Dominick Cruz against T.J. Dillashaw is an awesome fight. What goes into awesome? Just a bunch of the usual ingredients…air casts, cadaver tendons, the scalp of Nosferatu, protractors, a few sands of the hour glass, the soul of Takeya Mizugaki, things like that.
Back when he’d only been shelved in the neighborhood of three years with ACL surgeries, a debate swelled up as to whether Cruz should be rushed back into a title fight against an active beast like Renan Barao. The competitor Cruz wanted it, and it was momentarily booked for UFC 169, but people were a little skeptical. Out three years? Against Barao, who hadn’t lost in a decade? That’s suicide, son.
Yet Cruz injured his groin and the thing was moot. Cruz was stripped of his title.
Then, as always happens in the fight game, perception went through the cheese grater. Urijah Faber, who filled in for Cruz against Barao and lost, urged the UFC to book his training partner T.J. Dillashaw into a title fight with Barao. The UFC did. Dillashaw, looking remarkably like Cruz, shocked the world (or at least a large fraction of the diehard MMA community) by dominating Barao, finishing him spectacularly in the fifth. He beat Joe Soto in his first title defense three months later at UFC 177, but the less said about that the better.
As for Cruz, he finally made it back to the Octagon at UFC 178, and, looking like a bowstring that had been pulled back for three years and let go, he destroyed Mizugaki in 61 seconds. That served as an important reminder that perhaps everything that had gone on in the bantamweight division in his absence was a masquerade. Now to get to the bottom of things, we had Cruz set up to fight Dillashaw.
Or did we?
As he was getting ready for Dillashaw, Cruz suffered an ACL on his other knee, solidifying his status as the most snake-bitten fighter of all time. Dillashaw instead got a Barao rematch, and this time disposed of him in the fourth round. One round quicker than last time. No fluky business this time. There’s no such thing as a two-time defending fluke. All the while Cruz, going through another agonizing period of convalescence and introspection, stood by as the accolades fell just outside his window.
So, just to review for those keeping track at home: In the space of a year-and-a-half, Barao was too much for Cruz (presumably), Cruz was too much for Mizugaki (literally), Dillashaw was too much for Barao (twice), Dillashaw solidified himself at the top of the division, Cruz remains crammed uncomfortably in that same space, and now Cruz and Dillashaw — which takes place on free television on January 17 in Boston — looks like a ridiculous, truth-telling, mind-bending fight, regardless if Cruz is coming off an injury again or not.
Why? Because Dillashaw fights so much like Dominick Cruz. Don’t tell Dillashaw or Cruz that, because they hate that naïve BS. Ask them if they are similar and it descends into a breakdown of footwork and angles and feints and dekes and combinations that are either deployed or not, set-ups, takedowns, sleight-of-hand, level-changes, clinchwork and how they don’t resemble each other in the least when doing these things.
They even argue almost exactly the same.
The technical intrigue in a fight like this goes a long, long way for the imagination. Whether or not you like to watch fighters mastering the use of space and geometry over (potentially) five rounds is a question of taste, but you can’t argue the sublime sense of self-preservation of Cruz (in the cage, anyway), nor the mellifluous blitzkrieg nature of Dillashaw, and how those things might play out when they come together. They are both smart. Very smart. They split mere seconds into whole narratives. That one could be the facsimile of the other, like mirrors with consciences and pride, only adds to the intrigue.
But what really hits the imagination is the long-awaited defining of a division that for so long danced around a pothole. Before his series of injuries, Cruz was the master of 135. He personally created the flyweight division by beating Joseph Benavidez twice, and later Demetrious Johnson. He presented himself as the end of all feel-good-stories who made their way towards his belt. Since 2007, nobody has defeated him. Hardly anybody hits him flush. Injuries alone have made him begin to vanish from the playing field. That 61-second cameo against Mizugaki in-between has only added to the many curiosities of this fight.
Is Dillashaw part of the masquerade? Is he only renting Cruz’s belt? Or has Dillashaw become today’s Cruz? What happens when today’s Cruz meets Cruz himself?
What an awesome fight.
Dominick Cruz against T.J. Dillashaw is an awesome fight. What goes into awesome? Just a bunch of the usual ingredients…air casts, cadaver tendons, the scalp of Nosferatu, protractors, a few sands of the hour glass, the soul of Takeya Mizugaki, things like that.
Back when he’d only been shelved in the neighborhood of three years with ACL surgeries, a debate swelled up as to whether Cruz should be rushed back into a title fight against an active beast like Renan Barao. The competitor Cruz wanted it, and it was momentarily booked for UFC 169, but people were a little skeptical. Out three years? Against Barao, who hadn’t lost in a decade? That’s suicide, son.
Yet Cruz injured his groin and the thing was moot. Cruz was stripped of his title.
Then, as always happens in the fight game, perception went through the cheese grater. Urijah Faber, who filled in for Cruz against Barao and lost, urged the UFC to book his training partner T.J. Dillashaw into a title fight with Barao. The UFC did. Dillashaw, looking remarkably like Cruz, shocked the world (or at least a large fraction of the diehard MMA community) by dominating Barao, finishing him spectacularly in the fifth. He beat Joe Soto in his first title defense three months later at UFC 177, but the less said about that the better.
As for Cruz, he finally made it back to the Octagon at UFC 178, and, looking like a bowstring that had been pulled back for three years and let go, he destroyed Mizugaki in 61 seconds. That served as an important reminder that perhaps everything that had gone on in the bantamweight division in his absence was a masquerade. Now to get to the bottom of things, we had Cruz set up to fight Dillashaw.
Or did we?
As he was getting ready for Dillashaw, Cruz suffered an ACL on his other knee, solidifying his status as the most snake-bitten fighter of all time. Dillashaw instead got a Barao rematch, and this time disposed of him in the fourth round. One round quicker than last time. No fluky business this time. There’s no such thing as a two-time defending fluke. All the while Cruz, going through another agonizing period of convalescence and introspection, stood by as the accolades fell just outside his window.
So, just to review for those keeping track at home: In the space of a year-and-a-half, Barao was too much for Cruz (presumably), Cruz was too much for Mizugaki (literally), Dillashaw was too much for Barao (twice), Dillashaw solidified himself at the top of the division, Cruz remains crammed uncomfortably in that same space, and now Cruz and Dillashaw — which takes place on free television on January 17 in Boston — looks like a ridiculous, truth-telling, mind-bending fight, regardless if Cruz is coming off an injury again or not.
Why? Because Dillashaw fights so much like Dominick Cruz. Don’t tell Dillashaw or Cruz that, because they hate that naïve BS. Ask them if they are similar and it descends into a breakdown of footwork and angles and feints and dekes and combinations that are either deployed or not, set-ups, takedowns, sleight-of-hand, level-changes, clinchwork and how they don’t resemble each other in the least when doing these things.
They even argue almost exactly the same.
The technical intrigue in a fight like this goes a long, long way for the imagination. Whether or not you like to watch fighters mastering the use of space and geometry over (potentially) five rounds is a question of taste, but you can’t argue the sublime sense of self-preservation of Cruz (in the cage, anyway), nor the mellifluous blitzkrieg nature of Dillashaw, and how those things might play out when they come together. They are both smart. Very smart. They split mere seconds into whole narratives. That one could be the facsimile of the other, like mirrors with consciences and pride, only adds to the intrigue.
But what really hits the imagination is the long-awaited defining of a division that for so long danced around a pothole. Before his series of injuries, Cruz was the master of 135. He personally created the flyweight division by beating Joseph Benavidez twice, and later Demetrious Johnson. He presented himself as the end of all feel-good-stories who made their way towards his belt. Since 2007, nobody has defeated him. Hardly anybody hits him flush. Injuries alone have made him begin to vanish from the playing field. That 61-second cameo against Mizugaki in-between has only added to the many curiosities of this fight.
Is Dillashaw part of the masquerade? Is he only renting Cruz’s belt? Or has Dillashaw become today’s Cruz? What happens when today’s Cruz meets Cruz himself?
Upon getting knocked out a third consecutive time on Aug. 23, 31-year-old Sam Stout decided to retire from mixed martial arts last week. The longtime UFC veteran was knocked out by Frankie Perez in Saskatoon at UFC Fight Night 74 in just 54 seconds. Before then, he had been knocked out by KJ Noons and Ross Pearson.
In his 30 professional fights before the streak, Stout had never been knocked out.
In other words, the writing was on the wall for the Ontario, Canada native. And just a few days removed from hanging up the gloves, “Hands of Stone” Stout appeared on Monday’s edition of The MMA Hour — with his one-year old daughter, Logan, sitting in his lap — to talk about the decision to call it a career.
“It’s strange man, it’s so hard for me to wrap my brain around,” Stout told Ariel Helwani. “But I think it was the right decision. I’m only 31 years old and a lot of people are like, ‘you’re still so young,’ but I’ve got a lot of miles on me. I’ve been doing this for half of my life. And I’ve got my daughter Logan here, and losing those last three fights by knockout. I’m not having any post-concussion symptoms, and I’m not feeling any memory loss or anything along those lines that you hear about some of these guys suffering from, but I don’t want to wait until that one shot that puts me over the edge and start having those. I’d rather not wait until it’s too late.
“I clearly can’t take a punch the same way I used to, so the decision wasn’t that hard for me.”
Stout said that he has been training with the same focus and vigor as he always has in his UFC career, so that it wasn’t from a lack of preparation that he began to decline. He said that for whatever reason he just couldn’t take the punches like he used to.
“I don’t know, you’ve seen it in the past, it happened with like Chuck Liddell, who kind of went through the same thing,” he said. “Some of the best fighters of all time just reach a certain age where they just can’t seem to do it anymore. It’s just wear and tear on your body, and I’ve been talking to some doctors and they say that once it happens once your body realizes, okay, I went unconscious this time and then the punishment stopped. Then it becomes your body’s way, like your body realizes that it’s a good defense mechanism against this kind of punishment.
“So maybe that’s what it is. I’m not a doctor, I can’t explain it. I just know I used to be able to walk through those punches without flinching, and now that’s three times in a row that I went down.”
Stout said that he would remain in mixed martial arts, helping train fighters in the short term, but that he was looking to go back to school to be a firefighter.
He said he had it in the back of his mind that he would retire if he got knocked out in Saskatchewan.
“It wasn’t something I was really dwelling on, it wasn’t something I was spending too much time thinking about and letting it get into my head,” he said. “But I had told myself…if I get knocked out by Frankie Perez, who’s a tough kid but he’s not really a stand-up guy, not known for being a knockout artist, he’s more of a submission guy — I was like, if I lose this one, that’s three in a row and I’m going to hang them up. So, by the time came back to the back room I already knew that my career was over.”
Stout finished his pro fighting career with a 20-12-1 overall record, with a 9-11 record in the UFC. Some of his career highlights included defeating Joe Lauzon at UFC 108 via unanimous decision — which Stout cited as one of his favorites — as well as winning two out of three fights in his big trilogy with Spencer Fisher.
Throughout his nine-year UFC career, Stout received seven different end of the night bonuses. He said that he wished he’d held onto his money a little bit more, but unlike some fighters he did take precaution to build a little nest egg. Asked if he wished there was some kind of help from the UFC for fighters to transition out of the game, he said it’s only natural to feel that way.
“Well, of course I wish that, you know it’s a difficult path and luckily I was smart enough not to just blow through all those fight of the night checks and all that,” he said. “I got hooked up with some of the right people to take care of my finances and help me out with that stuff. But, yeah it would be nice if there was a little more help. And you know, they do the UFC, the fighter summit and they talk to us all about that. But for a lot of guys that goes in one ear and out the other. I think as more guys start retiring, you’re going to see a lot of them that are in the Allen Iverson type of situation, where they’re flat broke. You’re going to see former athletes, guys that people used to look up to, working at diners, you know, barely able to make ends meet.
“But, I don’t know. It’s a hard thing to talk about, and I’m not going to complain after the fact that I didn’t make enough money, that I didn’t get this or I didn’t get that. I’m not that type of person. But yeah, it would definitely be nice if there was something for after. Because I’m 31 years old, and I kind of stopped my education and stopped what could have been, I could have been 10 years as a paramedic with a pension and benefits and medical benefits and dental benefits for my daughter here. And now I have none of those things. I don’t regret my time in the UFC at all, it’s the opposite in fact. But yeah, it would be nice if there was something to kind help you transition out.”
Upon getting knocked out a third consecutive time on Aug. 23, 31-year-old Sam Stout decided to retire from mixed martial arts last week. The longtime UFC veteran was knocked out by Frankie Perez in Saskatoon at UFC Fight Night 74 in just 54 seconds. Before then, he had been knocked out by KJ Noons and Ross Pearson.
In his 30 professional fights before the streak, Stout had never been knocked out.
In other words, the writing was on the wall for the Ontario, Canada native. And just a few days removed from hanging up the gloves, “Hands of Stone” Stout appeared on Monday’s edition of The MMA Hour — with his one-year old daughter, Logan, sitting in his lap — to talk about the decision to call it a career.
“It’s strange man, it’s so hard for me to wrap my brain around,” Stout told Ariel Helwani. “But I think it was the right decision. I’m only 31 years old and a lot of people are like, ‘you’re still so young,’ but I’ve got a lot of miles on me. I’ve been doing this for half of my life. And I’ve got my daughter Logan here, and losing those last three fights by knockout. I’m not having any post-concussion symptoms, and I’m not feeling any memory loss or anything along those lines that you hear about some of these guys suffering from, but I don’t want to wait until that one shot that puts me over the edge and start having those. I’d rather not wait until it’s too late.
“I clearly can’t take a punch the same way I used to, so the decision wasn’t that hard for me.”
Stout said that he has been training with the same focus and vigor as he always has in his UFC career, so that it wasn’t from a lack of preparation that he began to decline. He said that for whatever reason he just couldn’t take the punches like he used to.
“I don’t know, you’ve seen it in the past, it happened with like Chuck Liddell, who kind of went through the same thing,” he said. “Some of the best fighters of all time just reach a certain age where they just can’t seem to do it anymore. It’s just wear and tear on your body, and I’ve been talking to some doctors and they say that once it happens once your body realizes, okay, I went unconscious this time and then the punishment stopped. Then it becomes your body’s way, like your body realizes that it’s a good defense mechanism against this kind of punishment.
“So maybe that’s what it is. I’m not a doctor, I can’t explain it. I just know I used to be able to walk through those punches without flinching, and now that’s three times in a row that I went down.”
Stout said that he would remain in mixed martial arts, helping train fighters in the short term, but that he was looking to go back to school to be a firefighter.
He said he had it in the back of his mind that he would retire if he got knocked out in Saskatchewan.
“It wasn’t something I was really dwelling on, it wasn’t something I was spending too much time thinking about and letting it get into my head,” he said. “But I had told myself…if I get knocked out by Frankie Perez, who’s a tough kid but he’s not really a stand-up guy, not known for being a knockout artist, he’s more of a submission guy — I was like, if I lose this one, that’s three in a row and I’m going to hang them up. So, by the time came back to the back room I already knew that my career was over.”
Stout finished his pro fighting career with a 20-12-1 overall record, with a 9-11 record in the UFC. Some of his career highlights included defeating Joe Lauzon at UFC 108 via unanimous decision — which Stout cited as one of his favorites — as well as winning two out of three fights in his big trilogy with Spencer Fisher.
Throughout his nine-year UFC career, Stout received seven different end of the night bonuses. He said that he wished he’d held onto his money a little bit more, but unlike some fighters he did take precaution to build a little nest egg. Asked if he wished there was some kind of help from the UFC for fighters to transition out of the game, he said it’s only natural to feel that way.
“Well, of course I wish that, you know it’s a difficult path and luckily I was smart enough not to just blow through all those fight of the night checks and all that,” he said. “I got hooked up with some of the right people to take care of my finances and help me out with that stuff. But, yeah it would be nice if there was a little more help. And you know, they do the UFC, the fighter summit and they talk to us all about that. But for a lot of guys that goes in one ear and out the other. I think as more guys start retiring, you’re going to see a lot of them that are in the Allen Iverson type of situation, where they’re flat broke. You’re going to see former athletes, guys that people used to look up to, working at diners, you know, barely able to make ends meet.
“But, I don’t know. It’s a hard thing to talk about, and I’m not going to complain after the fact that I didn’t make enough money, that I didn’t get this or I didn’t get that. I’m not that type of person. But yeah, it would definitely be nice if there was something for after. Because I’m 31 years old, and I kind of stopped my education and stopped what could have been, I could have been 10 years as a paramedic with a pension and benefits and medical benefits and dental benefits for my daughter here. And now I have none of those things. I don’t regret my time in the UFC at all, it’s the opposite in fact. But yeah, it would be nice if there was something to kind help you transition out.”
UFC heavyweight champion Fabricio Werdum is ready to defend his title. And he doesn’t want to wait until March of 2016.
At the UFC 191 post-fight press conference in Las Vegas this past weekend, UFC president Dana White said that Werdum would likely defend his title against former champion Cain Velasquez in March.
“Unfortunately, this heavyweight division is tied up right now,” White said. “This fight won’t happen probably until March, the next heavyweight [title] defense. So we’ll see how this thing plays out, and we’ll go from there.”
Asked why so far off, White said it was because, “that’s when Werdum wants to fight.”
Yet according to a report on UFC Tonight, Werdum’s management refutes having said that he wants to wait until March to defend his title. His management team, Dominance MMA, said that they informed the UFC that he would be ready to fight again in either December or January.
The then-interim champion Werdum married the heavyweight titles with an upset victory over Velasquez at UFC 188 in June, scoring a third-round submission (guillotine). Though the heavyweight division is currently stacked with contenders, the UFC opted to give Velasquez an immediate rematch.
UFC 188 took place in Mexico City, Mexico, at over 7,000 feet in elevation. Velasquez, who wasn’t as acclimated as Werdum, appeared to gas early.
UFC heavyweight champion Fabricio Werdum is ready to defend his title. And he doesn’t want to wait until March of 2016.
At the UFC 191 post-fight press conference in Las Vegas this past weekend, UFC president Dana White said that Werdum would likely defend his title against former champion Cain Velasquez in March.
“Unfortunately, this heavyweight division is tied up right now,” White said. “This fight won’t happen probably until March, the next heavyweight [title] defense. So we’ll see how this thing plays out, and we’ll go from there.”
Asked why so far off, White said it was because, “that’s when Werdum wants to fight.”
Yet according to a report on UFC Tonight, Werdum’s management refutes having said that he wants to wait until March to defend his title. His management team, Dominance MMA, said that they informed the UFC that he would be ready to fight again in either December or January.
The then-interim champion Werdum married the heavyweight titles with an upset victory over Velasquez at UFC 188 in June, scoring a third-round submission (guillotine). Though the heavyweight division is currently stacked with contenders, the UFC opted to give Velasquez an immediate rematch.
UFC 188 took place in Mexico City, Mexico, at over 7,000 feet in elevation. Velasquez, who wasn’t as acclimated as Werdum, appeared to gas early.
Late last week, when Conor McGregor went bigger than everyone else at the UFC’s “Go Big” event, it felt a little bit like an unveiling for the monster we’ve created. If you didn’t see it, do yourself a favor.
McGregor picked fights with the entire pantheon of fighters who were gathered to bring home the sheer immensity of the occasion. Holly Holm, sitting right next to McGregor, was like the bookish girl who got stuck next to the obnoxious kid in class. She was mortified. Donald Cerrone, sitting directly behind McGregor, was ready to kick that Irish ass. He had ten gallons of descending shadow playing over his features the entire time. In fact, Cerrone was so caught up in McGregor’s tirade(s) about the stumblebums around him and the mired lightweight division that he coolly pointed out that McGregor hadn’t beat anybody at 145.
Poor Chad Mendes, who gave it the old college try at UFC 189, was sitting right next to Cerrone, pinching himself to see if he was real. McGregor had everyone forgetting their manners. He was turning polite company rude. He was presenting himself as a lottery ticket that could make any of them rich. He did this all with his fly down.
It was perhaps the high point of his out-of-cage experiences.
McGregor stood out as something extraordinarily singular in a solitary sport. He saw no need to be civil to the people who share his profession. He didn’t respect a single soul, least of all Jose Aldo, the lone panel guest who has a date lined up to do him bodily harm. He turned the game’s greatest fighters into shrinking violets. McGregor offended everyone from 155-pound champ Rafael dos Anjos to Joseph Duffy, the last man to beat him. Dan Henderson stood by like a farm animal chewing cud as the farmer streaked through the barnyard banging pots and pans.
Or so it seemed. Compared to McGregor, everybody else seemed a little slow-witted and ordinary.
Even more remarkable was that he injected himself into every equation. As the event went on, it wasn’t Frankie Edgar against Chad Mendes, it was Mendes getting a full camp against McGregor, or Edgar getting his shot at McGregor. It wasn’t Cerrone and RDA, it was Cerrone and McGregor. It wasn’t Duffy and Dustin Poirier, it was Poirier getting another crack at McGregor. It was Duffy, the “journeyman,” against McGregor. It was everyone against McGregor, which, if you want in on a secret, is something like achieving the very essence of the fight game.
To steal shows and activate your imagination. To enter your name in every scenario. To dwarf common men.
Yet, at the same time, man…the UFC’s “Go Big” event also felt like the moment McGregor’s booming amplitude began to hurt our ears a little bit. What was it that Abraham Lincoln said? If you want to test man’s character, give him power? McGregor, in his short time in the fight game, is already well on his way to becoming insufferable. Everybody sees this. It’s a matter of time. He’s like the spoiled child that we’ve enabled, and he can’t help himself. The only thing that outshines his talent is his ability to tell you about it. His confidence borders on absurd. He’s new money, and he’ll rub it in your face with two shaking fistfuls.
“Uncle Frank,” from some ivory tower, has created a monster.
We all have. How long can this continue? How will he evolve?
See, these are the underpinnings in a case like McGregor’s. It’s an extraordinary naivety that simply can’t last. The only thing we like better than hoisting a star into the sky is tearing it back down. There were a dozen fighters up on the panel at the “Go Big” event chomping at the bit to be the ones to start him towards ruin. The more McGregor talks, the more comeuppance ripens as a side plot.
Still, you’ve got to respect his ability to just go for it.
“F*ck everybody else up here,” McGregor said at one point, as Dana White turned a little red with admiration. “I’m the money fight in the division.”
It’s true. McGregor is the firebrand of the sport. He gets it. He has no parallels. Even the game’s most transcendent star, Ronda Rousey, finds herself in competition against McGregor. They are vying for gate records. Rousey is headed for Etihad Stadium in Melbourne, Australia, which can cram 75,000 souls into its confines.
McGregor is headed some place less certain, but nobody in the sport embodies the now quite like him. UFC said to “Go Big,” and McGregor got the memo. He went big. Maybe too big. Maybe to the point where he outdone himself.
Late last week, when Conor McGregor went bigger than everyone else at the UFC’s “Go Big” event, it felt a little bit like an unveiling for the monster we’ve created. If you didn’t see it, do yourself a favor.
McGregor picked fights with the entire pantheon of fighters who were gathered to bring home the sheer immensity of the occasion. Holly Holm, sitting right next to McGregor, was like the bookish girl who got stuck next to the obnoxious kid in class. She was mortified. Donald Cerrone, sitting directly behind McGregor, was ready to kick that Irish ass. He had ten gallons of descending shadow playing over his features the entire time. In fact, Cerrone was so caught up in McGregor’s tirade(s) about the stumblebums around him and the mired lightweight division that he coolly pointed out that McGregor hadn’t beat anybody at 145.
Poor Chad Mendes, who gave it the old college try at UFC 189, was sitting right next to Cerrone, pinching himself to see if he was real. McGregor had everyone forgetting their manners. He was turning polite company rude. He was presenting himself as a lottery ticket that could make any of them rich. He did this all with his fly down.
It was perhaps the high point of his out-of-cage experiences.
McGregor stood out as something extraordinarily singular in a solitary sport. He saw no need to be civil to the people who share his profession. He didn’t respect a single soul, least of all Jose Aldo, the lone panel guest who has a date lined up to do him bodily harm. He turned the game’s greatest fighters into shrinking violets. McGregor offended everyone from 155-pound champ Rafael dos Anjos to Joseph Duffy, the last man to beat him. Dan Henderson stood by like a farm animal chewing cud as the farmer streaked through the barnyard banging pots and pans.
Or so it seemed. Compared to McGregor, everybody else seemed a little slow-witted and ordinary.
Even more remarkable was that he injected himself into every equation. As the event went on, it wasn’t Frankie Edgar against Chad Mendes, it was Mendes getting a full camp against McGregor, or Edgar getting his shot at McGregor. It wasn’t Cerrone and RDA, it was Cerrone and McGregor. It wasn’t Duffy and Dustin Poirier, it was Poirier getting another crack at McGregor. It was Duffy, the “journeyman,” against McGregor. It was everyone against McGregor, which, if you want in on a secret, is something like achieving the very essence of the fight game.
To steal shows and activate your imagination. To enter your name in every scenario. To dwarf common men.
Yet, at the same time, man…the UFC’s “Go Big” event also felt like the moment McGregor’s booming amplitude began to hurt our ears a little bit. What was it that Abraham Lincoln said? If you want to test man’s character, give him power? McGregor, in his short time in the fight game, is already well on his way to becoming insufferable. Everybody sees this. It’s a matter of time. He’s like the spoiled child that we’ve enabled, and he can’t help himself. The only thing that outshines his talent is his ability to tell you about it. His confidence borders on absurd. He’s new money, and he’ll rub it in your face with two shaking fistfuls.
“Uncle Frank,” from some ivory tower, has created a monster.
We all have. How long can this continue? How will he evolve?
See, these are the underpinnings in a case like McGregor’s. It’s an extraordinary naivety that simply can’t last. The only thing we like better than hoisting a star into the sky is tearing it back down. There were a dozen fighters up on the panel at the “Go Big” event chomping at the bit to be the ones to start him towards ruin. The more McGregor talks, the more comeuppance ripens as a side plot.
Still, you’ve got to respect his ability to just go for it.
“F*ck everybody else up here,” McGregor said at one point, as Dana White turned a little red with admiration. “I’m the money fight in the division.”
It’s true. McGregor is the firebrand of the sport. He gets it. He has no parallels. Even the game’s most transcendent star, Ronda Rousey, finds herself in competition against McGregor. They are vying for gate records. Rousey is headed for Etihad Stadium in Melbourne, Australia, which can cram 75,000 souls into its confines.
McGregor is headed some place less certain, but nobody in the sport embodies the now quite like him. UFC said to “Go Big,” and McGregor got the memo. He went big. Maybe too big. Maybe to the point where he outdone himself.
After his second-round knockout victory over English fighter Jimi Manuwa on Saturday night at UFC 191, Anthony Johnson had a message for the media sitting along press row.
As he walked by, Johnson remarked how the media should ‘write about t…
After his second-round knockout victory over English fighter Jimi Manuwa on Saturday night at UFC 191, Anthony Johnson had a message for the media sitting along press row.
As he walked by, Johnson remarked how the media should ‘write about that.”
In the lead-up to UFC 191, Johnson was under scrutiny for an incident that happened at the gym in Florida while he was training, between him and a woman working out nearby on her yoga mat. Johnson, who has had a history of domestic abuse, went on social media to exacerbate the situation by ranting about the woman. The UFC conducted an investigation in the matter, which was resolved when it was agreed upon that Johnson would undergo counseling and donate money to a charity of the woman’s choice.
Asked about his comments to the media at the UFC 191 post-fight press conference, “Rumble” said he wasn’t bothered by the media’s coverage
“It wasn’t rough, I was fine,” he said. “You guys weren’t fine.”
When asked to elaborate on what he meant as he walked by media row, Johnson did.
“Like I said before, you guys are going to write whatever you’re going to write,” he said. “A lot of you guys write a lot of bullsh*t, but that’s what you do. That’s what you do to have to get paid and I’m fine with that. But if you’re going to write something bad, write something good.”
The 31-year old Johnson (20-5) was able to bounce back from his loss against Daniel Cormier back at 187 in May, finishing Manuwa with a big right hand in the second round. He credited his new grappling coach at the Blackzilians for helping him prepare for the fight, and that he thought he had a mental edge going in.
“I feel great,” he said. “Working with Neal Melanson has been amazing, and he’s just brought my game to another level. I can tell that Jimi was worried because Thursday when we had our staredown, we faced off and I saw his hands shaking a little bit. So I knew I was in his head. But you know, he could have been nervous then and still been ready to fight tonight, so I just had to go out there and do what I do.”
This is the UFC 191 live blog for Andrei Arlovski vs. Frank Mir, a heavyweight bout at Saturday night’s UFC event at the MGM Grand Garden Arena in Las Vegas.Arlovski, who has won five straight fights, will face Mir, who has won two of his pa…
This is the UFC 191 live blog for Andrei Arlovski vs. Frank Mir, a heavyweight bout at Saturday night’s UFC event at the MGM Grand Garden Arena in Las Vegas.
Arlovski, who has won five straight fights, will face Mir, who has won two of his past five fights, on the main card.
