This was a night where the only explanation went a little something like this: There was something in the water in New Orleans.
Or perhaps, given New Orleans’ proclivity for drinks mixed with ample amounts of alcohol, there was something in the bourbon?
What else is there to say about a night that featured five out of six main card fights being finished in the first round?
Along the way, Dustin Poirier unleashed his special brand of lightweight violence. Brian Ortega and Thiago Tavares put on an incredible fight, just one of many.
Ben Rothwell—Ben Rothwell, you guys!—not only choked out opponent Matt Mitrione, but then cut one of the weirdest post-fight promos in UFC history, complete with hilarious evil laugh. And then he had to answer questions about his fight from Jon Anik while clearly wishing he’d been able to walk out of the Octagon before answering more technical questions about the fight.
And then it was all capped off by Dan Henderson, the ageless wonder, absolutely starching Tim Boetsch, who was 10 years his younger and allegedly too much for Henderson to handle.
It took Henderson 28 seconds to make Boetsch wish he’d never stepped in the Octagon. 28 seconds for a 44 year-old man to say: hey, I might be old—and I might’ve started my career before some of my opponents were in kindergarten—but I can still bring the thunder.
And that’s exactly what Henderson did, in a manner of speaking. He hurt Boetsch early with the first right-handed H-Bomb he threw and, sensing a fresh kill in the making, loaded up on uppercuts to finish the job. And then he raised his hands and he screamed and he smiled, because he’d essentially been written off as someone who should probably be spending his time looking at plans for retirement and not training to fight men 10 or more years his younger.
He’d been discounted, and now look at him.
“It’s nice that when I say I’m not done, and nobody believes me, to come out and prove I’m not done yet,” Henderson told Anik after the fight.
Few mixed martial arts analysts expected Henderson to win the fight, which is kinda the moral of the story, at least when it comes to mixed martial arts. No matter how much tape you watch, and no matter how well-versed you are in the arts of striking and wrestling and jiu-jitsu, there are just moments of magic that seem to sprinkle up every so often in this sport.
There are things you just can’t predict. And Henderson is one of those things. Like Randy Couture, who kept electrifying audiences well past his prime, Henderson is an anomaly. He doesn’t always win—he has just two wins in his previous seven fights—but when he does, he makes you feel glad that you saw it happen. Whether you were in New Orleans or sitting at home, watching on your couch, you saw it happen, and you rejoiced and screamed and smiled right there alongside him.
We don’t know how long Henderson can keep doing this. Mixed martial arts seems like a sport catered toward the younger crowd, both in athletes and in audience. But there’s just something about old man Hendo, with his sometimes-toothless “aw shucks” grin, that resonates with both young and old.
And one thing is for certain: When he’s gone for good, we’ll probably wish we’d never tried to push him out before he was ready to go.
Jeremy Botter covers mixed martial arts for Bleacher Report. Follow him on Twitter.
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