Tiny Little Gloves

So tonight, my girlfriend kindly offered to transcribe my hoots and yelps during the UFC’s all-heavyweight main card, so that I could get on with swearing at everybody. A fine idea, undone by Josh Rosenthal: at whom I unleashed such a torrent of foul language that she simply refused to continue. 

Look: I’m all for letting fighters fight, but when someone’s face is pissing blood like a sprinkler and they shake their head like a sneezing dog while they’re talking to the fight doctor, you might want to take the decision out of their hands. You’d at the very least want to keep an eye out for an opportune moment to stop the fight, instead off letting them take a career-shortening series of face-punches from a barely-functional half guard. I’ve watched that stoppage five times and every time I think I’d have jumped in three punches earlier - I can’t believe there isn’t more outrage about this elsewhere. I was actually gearing up to have a go at Yves Lavigne for letting Shane Del Rosario get his face elbowed to a paste, and this stoppage was worse. Elsewhere on the card, my notes simply say ‘Fuck’s sake, Mazzagatti,’ presumably a reference to him letting Jamie Varner grab the cage for balance while he pounded out Edson Barboza. Not, all in all, a great night for refereeing. 

The one referee that didn’t have much of a job to do was Herb Dean. In-keeping with his job as the nicest man in the face-punching business, JDS seemed almost polite in the way he’d blast Mir with belly punches and occasionally stiff-jab him in the face throughout a fairly one-sided title fight. Even the little hammerfist he ‘finished’ with was almost an afterthought, more like a little nod to the Dean Machine: ‘You’re stopping it, right? You are? Definitely? Great.’ JDS looks like a monster at the moment, easily the best puncher out of the heavyweights and seemingly impervious to being taken down. Something struck me as weird about his stance and I’ve finally worked out what it is: he stands in a really wide version of an orthodox boxing stance, left leg quite far forward instead of being squared off like most MMA fighters. It makes him basically invincible to blast doubles, and though it’s relatively easy to scoop up a single, his balance in defending such things is insane. I hate to think how much he’s drilled hopping around on one leg, but love to see that there’s an archetype out there for traditional boxers to copy. 

What else is there to say about that card? Johnson/Struve didn’t go long enough to tell if Struve’s learned to fight like the giant he is yet, but Johnson needs to take some BJJ lessons if he wants many more outings in the Octagon. My girlfriend saw that armbar coming before he did, and she was mostly-focused on my excellent spiced chicken salad. The traditionalist in me was pleased to see that after calling over a thousand MMA fights Mike Goldberg still doesn’t know what a head-arm triangle choke is - ‘He’s got the arm in…DOESN’T MATTER!’ from the Teixeira fight - and the poet in me was sad that he didn’t finally correctly identify a thing happening in the Octagon as ironic (Crocop fan and shorts-mimicker Miocic having no defence to getting his liver destroyed by kicks). Oh, has anyone else noticed that Paul Sass is 3-0 in the UFC, undefeated in a 13-fight career, and has only gone to decision once alongside 11 first round submissions?True, he can’t punch or do takedowns, but maybe there’s literally no lightweight in the world he can’t heelhook or triangle. He was supposed to fight Dunham last time out - that’s as good a next fight as any. 

Finally, great to see Hardy back in the win column. At first glance the shootout that led to the knockout looked terrifyingly close to Hardy Vs Condit, but in reality it showed that he’s grown as a fighter. The feint he threw before it was flawless, and the jab Ludwig caught him with was sheer reflexes. Hardy’s got genuine knockout power - much as I love them both and don’t want to see either lose, I think he’d make a great matchup with Akiyama. Only possible downside: I don’t think my TV could take all the swearing.

It’s difficult to articulate what I love most about the Korean Zombie. Firstly, there’s the fact that he comes out to The Cranberries’ ‘Zombie’ - does he know it’s about the cycle of resentment and injustice that led to an IRA bombing in Warrington, or did some UFC runner just do a search for his nickname on Spotify? Then there’s the fact that he consistently wears the only fighter-branded shirts I’d ever consider sporting in the sorts of hipster bars I go to. And then there’s the fact that he responded to a ridiculous decision loss against Leonard Garcia by hitting the never-before-seen-in-the-UFC Twister - which he’d learned from Youtube. Realistically though, what I love about Jung is the same thing I love about all my favourite fighters - he has minimal interest in winning decisions, and exactly zero interest in holding someone down to coast to a points win. By way of an example, he was easily winning round two in his fight against Poirier, who didn’t seem to have any answer to his very solid mount. But rather than simply drop half-arsed hammer fists for two minutes, Jung decided to jump on an armbar, then unleash a hellstorm of triangle/armbar/triangle/elbow attempts that left him absolutely exhausted for the third. And when he got his breath back in the fourth, he immediately went for a flying knee, then finished with the little-seen Darce. I doubt he can beat Aldo, but I hope they’re throwing so much bonus money at him that it leaves bruises.

Oh, and the other fights? Cerrone seems to have learned from the Diaz loss, no? He made Stephens - who only ever needs one big punch to win - look like a chump, mainly thanks to the same sort of economical down-the-pipe striking that the Stockton boys have made famous. I’m glad Lawlor got the knockout bonus, and I barely care that Sadollah robbed Lopez, who wasn’t doing much except cage-grinding anyway. Another solid card, but in the only thing in my head - aha-ha-ha - was the Zombie. Now, let’s just petition to change that theme tune. 

Well, that whole card was nothing short of glorious. 

It can’t be coincidence that Nate Diaz’ last two opponents (three if you count Gomi) have done their post-fight interviews with a sort of cat-in-a-washing-machine glaze on their faces that says they aren’t sure what the fuck just happened. These are very tough professional fighters who’ve spent eight weeks specifically preparing to fight a guy like Nate Diaz, and the actual Nate Diaz straight up mercs them so badly that they can’t quite believe it. Nate Diaz might be a fighting genius, and I think I’ve worked out why. 

He fights everywhere. Watching him fight Miller, I was struck by those moments when there’s a micro-lull in the fighting, when somebody takes a clean punch and resets, or when a clinch breaks and there’s a little pause. Or rather, I was struck by the lack of them, because Nate Diaz hits you in those micro-lulls. Diaz was firing those 70-percent punches every time Miller’s face was in range, and them getting through was clearly frustrating Miller. Add in the fact that Diaz is even more relentless in jiu-jitsu than he is in face-punching, and he’s a dangerous man. He’ll probably be in the same situation as his brother soon, where guys can beat him with lay-n-pray or point-fighting but I won’t ever accept that he’s actually lost. I’m actually looking forward to it. 

Palhares isn’t the best gameplanner, is he? He’s all happy if he can rip your leg off, but if that doesn’t work out he sometimes seems a bit lost. But much as I love the Treetrunk, I can’t be too sad after being treated to what was a masterful display of grappling (offensive and defensive) from Belcher. It’s fascinating to see the ground game evolve, and if you aren’t watching the Gracie Breakdowns then you should be, if only to increase your enjoyment of future events. 

Koscheck can moan about that decision all day, but he poked Johnny Hendricks in the eye twenty seconds in and still couldn’t land a decent right hand on him. If I’m going to watch wrestlers dominate at welterweight then I’d rather they be epically-bearded power-sluggers, and so I approve Hendricks’ rise. Ellenberger for a title shot next. 

And Pat Barry? Well, that blue-belt level BJJ aside, he needs to fight smarter and stop being so prepared to slug it out. He can land with accuracy, he’s just too happy to fight for the fans. 

In conclusion: number one contender bouts for everybody except Johnson, and if THQ don’t put the Diaz ‘Don’t be scared, homie’ taunt into the next Undisputed, I will likely cry. That is all.

So it turns out that Jon Jones might be the greatest fighter in the world. Or at least, if he isn’t, he will be soon - I can’t think if it’s some X-Men villain or the Borg out of Star Trek that constantly adapt and can’t ever be beaten twice by the same strategy, but the only way to have any success against Jones seems to be showing him something knew, and if you don’t finish him with it he’ll simply assimilate your tactics and smash you in the next round. In years to come, MMA historians might see Saturday’s fight as the singularity where Jones finally absorbed everything the light-heavyweight division has to offer and starts creating his own fighting styles at exponential speed. Much as I dislike him - even during the intro package he managed to come across as impossibly supercilious with his ‘you really want Evans as champ?’ schtick - the hand-fight elbows he threw in the second round were just a thing of magic, and Rashad never looked the same after they landed. Jones is a fighting genius, and I really can’t see the likes of Davis and Gustaffson keeping up, however carefully the UFC might nurture them. Who can beat him? Hendo has as much chance as anybody, but other than that I think it might be up to Velasquez, when Jones finally ventures up to heavyweight. 

On the subject of freakish super-athletes, Rory McDonald looked amazing. I’m not sure what kind of Faustian pact Che Mills signed to hurdle into co-main event status as a prelude to getting his face smashed in, but I hope he doesn’t suffer for it - he’s an excellent fighter who was simply outclassed, and I’d like to see him in some fun wars against the lower tiers of the welterweight division. My other notes from the night (yeah I take notes) say simply: ‘Rogan really stoned.’ I could be wrong, but he sort of vacillated between long periods of silence and meandering thoughts about fighters and fighting in general, unlike any normal commentator. I actually really liked listening to him talk about Chuck Liddell for two minutes of the Hominick fight, but when he was talking about an ‘ocean of betrayal on the seas of hatred’ during the Evans fight, shit got weird. 

Speaking of Hominick, by the way: there is fucking nothing I hate more than watching a fighter do pretend press-ups after losing a boring decision. You know what, M-Dogg? If you were feeling that spritely, maybe you should have thrown some big shots in the final 30 seconds, instead of just coasting to an uninspiring loss. JC Santana once said to me that he wants his guys to be absolutely exhausted after they fight as long as they win, and Eddie Yagin looked ruined after giving it everything he had. Well done to him. 

Joe Silva generally has a good rep, but for my money Matt Brown vs Stephen Thompson was one of the greatest fights he’s ever made. Seeing the karate wunderkind tested by a horrible, come-forward, drag-you-to-the-ground-and-elbow-the-shit-out-of-you brawler was exactly what I wanted to happen, and in the event it told us a lot about where Thompson is. He needs more than a blue belt and his lord and saviour Jesus Christ to protect him on the ground in the welterweight division, and at 29 it’ll be interesting to see if he can manage it. Brown looked great, fought with heart, and I’m always happy to see him tear it up as a welterweight gatekeeper.

Finally, hooray for Ben Rothwell. I’ve heard of ‘taking one to land one,’ but his fight was more like ‘taking fifteen to land a single atomic megapunch.’ He ate everything Brendan Schaub could throw to clip him with an uberleft, and looked in great shape doing it. Will he be a force against a new generation of heavyweights? Probably not, but I’m applauding him anyway.  Good show all round, though the less said about my seven-fight mega-parlay the better. 

So two days before the UFC made its debut in the land of meatballs and constitutional monarchy, I was moaning about the lack of top-flight talent on the card. ‘You always say this,’ a colleague reminded me, ‘And then it’s always the most exciting card for ages.’ I may have hmphed. 

Two days later and with the co-main and main events still to go, I’d already declared something like three fights in a row Fight Of The Night, shouted ‘karate karate karate!’ during a wheel-kick showcase by Dennis Siver and jumped out of my seat to applaud delightedly and swear at the TV during one match. You know which one.

Isn’t John Maguire fucking brilliant? Like every other true-hearted Englishman, I’ve been waiting what feels like forever to see a Brit whose gameplan includes takedowns, and for him to be a fellow fan of Bret Hart feels like the icing on the cake.  I’m also convinced that declaring himself a pink belt in Gypsy Jiu-Jitsu is a stroke of genius - even though he’s displayed a vicious kimura in his non-UFC fights and grapples at a pretty high level, nobody knows quite how seriously to take him. The answer for Damarques Johnson was ‘Not seriously enough,’ as he uncorked an absolutely masterful armbar counter to a kimura attempt (see? you know a move and you can defend it) for what was unquestionably the sub of the night. It was basic jiu-jitsu, but pulled off flawlessly under big pressure and against an excellent fighter. Brilliant.

Pickett: also excellent. He needed a win, and fought a great fight, though he still seems a bit too willing to trade when he could be using his superior skills to dominate. Good to see Jason Young picking up a win too - his losses have been the narrowest of decisions so far, and it would’ve been a shame to see him get cut without showing what he can do. Siver deserved his win - okay, that fight was basically almost like a kickboxing sparring match, but there were moments of genuine brutality when the kleine Deutschman got in close, and Nunes looked far too happy to sit back and counter. I was sad to see Paulo Thiago get dropped, but that’s what you get for leading with your face. 

And so to the co-main event. It felt a lot like Legionarius was a gimme fight for Stann, who’s exactly the kind of American hero the UFC might want to push into a middleweight shot when Silva retires. Sonnen made him look dreadful and Palhares would rip his leg off, but I’m sure he’d like to fight Bisping, and he’s got enough one-shot power to make a fight of it. Bisping might not like it, but a win would put him near the top of the pecking order - and if Sonnen can beat Silva, it might even make sense to rematch him into a title shot. Perhaps I’m just overexcited. 

Oh! And for the first round of the Gustaffson fight both men were moving at the speed of lightweights, which was tremendously exciting. Gustaffson’s not quite at contender-level yet, and he probably ought to fight Bader to see if he’s learned to deal with wrestlers. But basically a brilliant card, and a welcome return after three weeks of fight-less weekends. Evans/Davis ought to be amazing, which in the Bizarro-world logic of the UFC means that it will actually be a tedious snoozer. But I am enormously excited about it anyway. Evans for the win!

Possibly the biggest compliment I can pay Miesha Tate after this weekend’s fight is that I didn’t even blink when she had her elbow bent in half like a pipe cleaner.

You, gentle reader, might argue that I’ve simply become desensitized to limb-bending from all the Youtube videos I watch of amateur BJJ tournaments - and you’d be right that I’m not jumping on the worst-armbar-evah bandwagon, since watching Tim Sylvia’s forearm get popped like a breadstick was infinitely worse. But that’s not it at all. Until now, top-flight women’s MMA has never seemed to quite match the skill levels you see among the men - Cyborg Santos, the most dominant woman in the division, is only a purple belt in BJJ, and you regularly see quite serious errors in groundwork even during title matches.

Rousey/Tate changed all that. With an Olympic bronze under her belt, Rousey is one of the highest-level judoka ever to compete in MMA (the only better ones I can think of are Satoshii Ishii and Hidehiko Yoshida), and she’s already the most successful in terms of using her base skillset to win fights (8-0 including her amateur record, all by armbar in the first round). Women’s judo is every bit as competitive as men’s, and so what you’re watching during her fights is a genuinely world-class competitor with utter confidence in her skills. Tate is former national champ in wrestling with a solid submission game, and had a huge experience edge on Rousey. The fight they put on wasn’t just a good women’s fight, it was one of the best fights this year - four minutes and twenty-seven seconds of throws, reversals, submission attempts and punching, and not one second of time-wasting or fighting for a decision. When the end came, I was looking at Miesha Tate like I’d look at any other championship-level fighter - someone

fully cognizant of the risks and rewards of trying to escape a fight-ending armbar, and someone completely capable of deciding whether or not to get their elbow dislocated. Tate knew what she was doing, and nobody else can really say anything about it. It was a great fight, and a great night for women’s MMA, and if someone’s going to get their elbow popped in the name of entertainment, then I’d damn well better watch it happen.*

 

*I didn’t watch the other matches.

True facts: I can usually gauge how good a UFC has been by the amount of times I shout ‘Fuck YOU!’ at the TV during the live broadcast. That makes it sound more malevolent than it is - yes, sometimes it slips out when a fighter I don’t like gets savagely concussed, but mostly it’s a celebration of some phenomenal bit of technical skill, heart or virtuousity in the octagon. That ends in someone being savagely concussed.

I’m pretty sure UFC 144 set a record for ‘Fuck YOU!’ moments, because top to
bottom I can’t think of a card that was more exciting. Edgar/Henderson was fantastic, as expected - that picture up at the top is Hendo throwing a fucking Enzuigiri (actual translation: medulla oblongata chop), which as far as I’m aware has never even been attempted in the UFC before. I’m late enough in writing this post that it’s been established that Hendo will be rematching Edgar, which I don’t hate as much as I would if you’d suggested it immediately after the fight. Yes, Edgar will have rematched his last three opponents and spent three years basically fighting the same three guys, but I didn’t want him to drop to featherweight either - if he loses against Aldo, as he very well could, that’s a stratospheric plummet from champ-in-a-stacked-division to working-up-the-ladder-in-a-division-not-everyone-cares-about. I guess this means that Pettis fights the Miller/Diaz winner for the next title shot, which is a bit unfair if it’s Miller but a great way to thoroughly establish any of the others. 

Edgar/Bendo wasn’t the noisiest match, though. The highest-volume profanity came courtesy of Yoshihiro Akiyama, who has to be wondering what he’s done upset the UFC - most people on a losing streak get a chance to rectify their slide against weaker opposition, but he’s fought Bisping, Belfort AND THEN SHIELDS. Because he doesn’t give a shit, Akiyama fought like he always does - with an utter disregard for anything except doing flawless, textbook-perfect judo throws. Between his reluctance to cut weight and his unwillingness to stick to a boring gameplan he might never make waves at welterweight, but if you’re declaring him overrated on the basis of his UFC run then I hate you. Shields was solid and I’d like to see him make another run at the top, but he really needs to find a way to take people down when they’re treating his punches with the utter contempt that they deserve.

Second most-likely-to-upset-the-neighbours was Kongo/Hunt. Normally two
things are inevitable in a Kongo fight: I will make a load of jokes about
how Kongo always knees his opponent in the balls, and then Kongo knees his opponent in the balls. This fight there wasn’t time for either, and massive props to Mark
Hunt for having the tenacity to chase down (and punch unconscious) an
opponent who was openly running away. I was absolutely horrified to watch Gomi fight like an exaggerated version of his old self (head forward, loads of hooks) but glad that he won. And was sad to watch Yamamoto, but I hope Vaughan Lee can ride the momentum, pocket his submission bonus, train hard and come back as a new British prospect.  In conclusion: bring back Akiyama, let Gomi fight Lauzon, and go Google ‘Kid Yamamoto Flying Knee KO’ to remind yourself of what once was. Goodnight, everybody.  

I thought I’d kick off this post by saying that I’ve never actually seen Nick Diaz lose a fight. Then I thought about it a bit more and decided that although I’ve seen Nick Diaz lose fights in the technical sense - being damaged more, taking more punches, having his skin cut open by his own tectonic-plate bone structure - I’ve never seen him end a fight not looking like he was going to win.* Somewhere there’s a parallel universe in which every fight is contested under Sakuraba/Royce/Pride rules - 10 minute rounds, keep going until one person has to stop - and in that universe, Nick Diaz is undisputed open-weight champion. It’s arguable whether he lost against Sanchez or Parisyan, Sherk did nothing to him that the police would even regard as actually bodily harm, and he was so pissed off about dropping a decision to Joe Riggs that he carried on fighting him in the hospital. Everything Nick Diaz does in a fight is designed to allow him to beat you up more, whether it’s taunting you with his hands down or calling you a bitch in between rounds or walking through 40 leg kicks so he can punch you in the liver. He doesn’t get tired and he is always trying to hit you. He is awesome. 

So why didn’t he beat Condit? Regardless of what I think (maybe Diaz in round one, definitely Diaz in round two when he started to flurry on Condit as soon as he backed into the fence, Condit in three and four via leg kicks as Diaz slowed down and Diaz in five because he went for two subs that Fightmetric didn’t bother to score) or how badly Cecil Peoples needs to be fired (he scored five for Condit, which suggests to me that he’s never seen a rear naked choke before), that fight was really too close to be upset about the decision, and you can’t blame Condit for fighting smart, even if you (me) were shouting abuse at him in the opening ten minutes. I wouldn’t necessarily be in favour of a rematch if GSP would be ready to go in June, but since he’s probably out until the end of the year, it’s absolutely the best solution.

Not much to report on the rest of the card. I can’t dislike Roy Nelson, but a thumping overhand right, cement-like head and self-deprecating sense of humour won’t get him to the top of the division, and I’m getting a bit worried about how much he gets hit. I thought Pierce beat Koscheck, but everyone knows you can’t trust judges these days. Barao looked great, and Ed Herman looked like a guy who will starch anyone with an obvious weakness but isn’t likely to break the top ten. And I was ready to worship Stephen Thompson as the new karate messiah right up until the point he thanked his lord and saviour Jesus Christ for helping him kick a man in the face so hard that he’s probably lost some wonderful childhood memories. Overall a decent card, and I’m genuinely glad to have scotched the Nick Diaz eulogy I started writing minutes after he announced his ‘retirement.’ Well done, everybody. 

*I haven’t seen his first fight with Jeremy Jackson, so this is technically fine. 

Comments

Ed’s note: Rather than dwell on Miller/Guillard - from which the only real lesson is that Guillard can’t seem to remember how to defend submissions under pressure - I’ve leapfrogged straight to Evans/Davis with a guest post from writer, MMA-lover and vicious leg-kicker Jon Denton. If you notice that this one’s more coherent and thorough than usual, that’s all him. 

What constitutes a boring fight? 15 minutes of Jon Fitch blanket-grinding some poor chump into mush? Nik ‘Stahl’ Lentz leaning you into the cage while tickling the backs of your knees? Or is it now anything that doesn’t live up to the Everestian heights of Shogun/Hendo or Alvarez/Chandler? After Saturday’s perfectly solid, functional and technically sound main event, I was surprised to see such vitriol pouring out of the net’s darkest octagonal corner against Rashad Evans’ dominant, star-affirming turn against the human triangle Phil Davis. 

If anything, it reminded me of a boxing main event – an overmatched but supremely talented contender being outclassed round after round. Suga showed his mettle, his drive and most of all his skill as he outboxed, outwrestled and outgrappled Davis in every exchange, breaking him down systematically until his confidence was sapped from his giant mesomorphic frame. If anything, the fight had really begun two days prior at the fantastically entertaining press conference. Rashad’s biting – and at the time seemingly misplaced – barbs seemed to get to Phil. Suga insinuated that Davis had no wrestling technique, that it was ‘trash’. A bold claim against someone with two national titles, when Rashad has few pure wrestling credential of his own. He backed it up, though, and how. This was the first time that Phil Davis hasn’t been the best at something he does. It’ll be interesting to see how Mr Wonderful bounces back.

Perhaps more justifiably slapped with the ‘boring’ tag was the night’s opener, Demian Maia against Chris Weidman. After 20 minutes of dry banter from Curt Menefee, Randy Couture and the deer-in-the-headlights Jonny Bones Jones, we were hungry for action. Instead, what we got was one former jiu-jitsu emperor practising  a floppy one-two against a man who’d cut 30 pounds in 10 days and looked ready to collapse at any moment. The fact Weidman was able to power through and take the decision against the plodding Maia is testament to his heart and will, but quite what happened to DM is a mystery. Yes, he’s not a striker, but this is still a man who comfortably outboxed Dan Miller and slammed a closed fist directly into Mark Munoz’ subconscious. Rumours have circulated that he too was poorly before the fight. Regardless, it was not the most spectacular opening to a show on Big Fox. Even worse than those godawful trumpets that burrow their way into your cerebellum. 

The most entertaining scrap, of course, was Bisping vs Sonnen, although few could have predicted Mike bullying Chael against the fence for the majority of two rounds and refusing to stay layed-and-indeed-prayed. Bisping’s sprawl still needs work, but his ability – and sheer tenacity - to shrimp to the cage, lock in the wizzer and work his way to the feet is a lesson for any European fighter hoping to make it on the big stage. Just because you get taken down, doesn’t mean you have to stay there.

By the third, Chael did manage to maintain top control, and Bisping struggled to summon up the energy to explode back to his feet yet again, but Sonnen did no damage to speak of, while Bisping himself landed the coup-de-grace, actually hauling Chael off his heels, dumping him on the mat and dropping some savage elbows as the final horn echoed throughout the arena.  Both thought they’d done enough, and I thought Bisping had the first two in the bag, but the judges saw it the other way. 

A controversial decision, then, and a terrible outing for Clay Goodman and his baffling 30-27 scorecard, but it could turn into a win-win for the UFC, Chael and indeed Mikey B. We’ve now got the Sonnen-Silva rematch that the world’s been clamouring for, almost certainly taking place under the bright floodlights of a Brazilian football stadium and primed to make Mixed Martial Arts history. Good. Bisping, though, won the fight in Dana’s eyes. He won in many a fan’s eyes. And he won in his own eyes. He acquitted himself brilliantly in a matchup where no one gave him a chance, and he’s probably only one more win away from a title shot himself. Bisping/Palhares, or Bisping/Munoz? Make it happen.

So, boring? At times, possibly. The decision to keep Manatee-man, Randy and rebellious prefect Jones talking instead of showing off Lavar Johnson’s hideous KO of Joey Beltran, or Cub Swanson’s highlight-reel mouthpiece-rebound right hand, is questionable, but these are the kinks that Fox and the UFC will work out over the course of their gargantuan seven year deal. Sometimes sports just aren’t as dramatic, fierce and air-punchingly, eye-wateringly amazing  as we’d like. Suck it up, appreciate the technique, and get the beers in for Condit Diaz. Someone’s getting punched in the face. Hard.

Well that was almost entirely brilliant. 

To get the awkward bit out of the way, I think Rogan was totally wrong to keep saying that he didn’t agree with the Silva/Prater DQ, especially directly to Mario Yamasaki’s increasingly-despondent face. It’s sometimes nice that Rogan gets to say what the fans are thinking, and he did excellent work under pressure during bag-of-ice-gate, but trying to get an official to admit that he’s just made a mistake during a live broadcast is outrageous. A rare slip from a great commentator. 

Aldo/Mendes looked like it might be a snoozer, and seeing him use a combination of flawless balance, perfect timing and astonishing power to knock the little man out was basically everything I wanted. The man’s a tiny monster, and seeing one of my BJJ training partners, who moonlights as Octagon security, try to restrain him from crowd-surfing out of the arena was the celebratory cherry on an extraordinarily violent cake. Still, the match that made me the happiest was little Toquinho almost tearing Mike Massenzio’s knee in half. If I’d been Massenzio, I’d have tapped as soon as Palhares touched my leg with his giant hands - he seemed happy to watch the heelhook being put on, wait until it hurt and then tap, and by the time a heelhook hurts you’re already guaranteed a trip to the rehab ward. Regardless, the post-fight flexing routine and backflip were like a special extra secret present directly from Palhares to me, because I love that crazy bastard. Everybody in the middleweight division should be scared to fight the Tree Stump right now, and with his barrel-forward takedowns and weird high kick, he’s a threat everywhere. He’s got a realistic shot at the title when Silva retires. 

Finally, I’m a big fan of Victoria sponge and react to dieting like a horse does from fireworks, and so I can sort of sympathise with Rumble Johnson expanding in size with every fight he takes. Unfortunately, he’s also a professional fighter, and coming in illegally heavy for an event where you’re going to try and concuss another man is not very forgivable. I was enormously pleased that Belfort got the tap (jiu-jitsu! jiu-jitsu!), and I hope Rumble learns that size isn’t everything while he’s fighting his way back from the minor leagues. Otherwise, well done everybody. Oh, except: Rio? Firing laser-pointers into fighters’ eyes is definitely not cool. 

It might not have escaped you, gentle reader, that I haven’t updated this blog for a couple of UFC’s-worth of events. I’d like to say it’s because I got all confused about my feelings on Jon Jones, but that sounds weird - so instead I’ll simply admit that I’m busy and lazy and get on with this three-in-one special. Bonus: it means less wittering about the undercards. 

So what are my feelings about Jon Jones? Everyone else was pretty quick to anoint him Best Fighter On The Planet after his handling of Lyoto Machida, and I certainly think - without getting into the semantics too much - he’s going to be the hardest to beat. Rangy limbs, demonic greco throws and katana-sharp-elbows are a tough combination for anybody to get around, and once he’s decided to dump you on the floor and start slicing your forehead open it’s pretty tough to stop him. But is the most complete fighter around? No. Machida took the first round, Jones hasn’t suddenly learned to love being punched in the face since the Rampage fight, and for all anyone knows he can’t fight off his back. I’d say the best shot anyone has of beating him is marching forward throwing solid punches straight at his chin, and coincidentally that’s the only gameplan Dan Henderson has ever employed. I’m not sure Hendo can win it, but I think he’s in with a chance. I was wrong about every other fight on the main card, so all I’ll say is that I was pretty sad when Nogueira’s arm snapped. 

Strikeforce: Melendez vs Masvidal didn’t do anyone any favours. Noons looked terrible, but I’m still glad that he won, because taunting your opponent and smiling isn’t a valid way to score points. Mousasi showed that he can still wreck mid-carders, but didn’t do anything that made it look like he can beat a really tenacious wrestler. Melendez looked like he was out to send a message to the UFC lightweights by winning a match with nothing but punches - and for two rounds he looked like he might manage it. He’s so superior to Masvidal on the ground, though, that I have no idea why he didn’t take it there eventually. There’s a complete dearth of challengers for him in Strikeforce, but ending a title defence looking smashed up isn’t going to impress the UFC’s lightweight roster.

As for UFC 141: please let me be the first to say that I will watch either of the Diaz brothers fight anyone, anywhere, ever. Usually, super-hyped grudge matches disappoint - neither man wants to lose, so both play it excruciatingly safe, dry-humping against the fence or exchanging lacklustre jabs for 15 minutes. Fortunately, Nate Diaz does not fight that way - he’d rather throw a hundred straight punches at your face every round, and if he has to take some kicks, so be it. Apart from being a fascinating test of Calzhage-style slapboxing against very technical Muay Thai, this was just a fantastic tearup - the way Cerrone visibly wilted as Diaz flipped him the bird before the final round was a testament to the power of the 209. Diaz vs the winner of Lauzon/Pettis for a title shot, surely. 

And that was it for Brock Lesnar. Better men than me have deconstructed his career in ridiculous detail, so I’ll just say that anyone who thought he ‘quit’ in that fight has simply never been kicked in the liver with any kind of appreciable force. I have, and I crumpled exactly like he did, and I wasn’t getting kicked by a 6’5” horse-meat-eating behemoth. As for quitting his career, I wish more fighters could get out as soon as their decline starts, with a massive sackful of cash, and live happily ever after. I hope Lesnar has a nice time out in backwoods Dakota, and that the wildlife can handle his wrath. Adieu, big man.  

Yes, it’s the return of the column that’s currently 4-1, thanks to Rick ‘Bedtime’ Story. I’m if anything less confident about this week’s picks, but sheer luck dictates that I ought to get two right. So. The big question for Saturday is: has anything in Lyoto Machida’s notoriously karate-saturated upbringing prepared him for a fighter like Jon Jones? The part of me that saw Bloodsport when I was seven wants to say yes: it seems impossibly unfair that you could be trained in the martial arts from birth by a disciplinarian father and still get trounced by a big tall man who’s only been fighting professionally for three years. But…it’s tricky. Machida fights best when he’s out at range, and Jones’ pterodactyl-like wingspan can only cause him problems there. Machida knocks people out best when he catches them and then lets rip with the karate flurry, and I can see that being difficult with Jones. Jones’ striking isn’t the Anderson Silva-level stuff some believe - he leaves holes, he doesn’t like being in the pocket, and he literally turned his back and ran at one point in the Rampage fight - but against a counter-fighter, I think he’s less likely to be pressured into the sort of mistake that can take him out. I think Machida’s still much more dangerous than his fights against Shogun made him look, but I’ll say Jones, stoppage, round 3. I will, however, be praying to the karate gods that Lyoto’s been saving his secret exploding-fist punch for exactly this fight.
 
As for the other fights…staph or not, Nogueira is a much better fighter than he looked in his first bout against Mir, and I don’t think Mir’s smart enough to stifle him to a win. Lil’ Nog is trickier - he’s probably a better fighter than Ortiz, but he’s characteristically happy to let the fight happen wherever his opponent likes, Ortiz is tougher to sweep than Jacob Volkmann, and American judges think whoever’s on top is winning. Unless Ortiz decides to slug it out/let Antonio use his head as a pinata, he should take the ground-and-pound win. I can’t tell if Claude Patrick’s being built up as the next Canadian Hope or Ebersole’s being rewarded for forearm-smashing Dennis Hallman’s tiny dancer off pay-per-view, but whichever it is I think Ebersole’s just unconventionally vicious. And much as I would love to see Chan Sung Jung drop a locoplata on Hominick, I think the Canuck’s got the experience edge on him.

Final picks? Jones, Big Nog, Ortiz, Patrick, Hominick. May Fumio Funakoshi, badass inventor of all things shotokan, prove me wrong.

There’s a saying in BJJ that when a black belt gets punched in the face once, he’s a brown belt. When he gets punched twice, he’s a purple belt. If that’s true, Diego Brandao must be some belt I haven’t heard of yet, because he got punched across the entire visible spectrum and still uncorked one of the sweetest armbars in fracture-clinic history. It was a good night for solid BJJ, and Tony Ferguson’s lovely rolling omoplata attempt was a thing to behold. 

The story of the night, of course, was Michael Bisping’s destruction of Mayhem Miller. The turning point of the fight actually seemed to be Mayhem’s accidental headbutt - until it landed, Bisping looked like he might get dragged into a dry, technical battle, and definitely lost the fight’s first ground exchange. As soon as he got cracked in the eyebrow, though, he started to look affronted that Miller wasn’t already unconscious, and Aggressive Bisping - the one who normally needs to smell somebody else’s blood - came out. Miller started to look scared - I’m sure he wasn’t, I’m just projecting - and it was basically all over. For those saying that Miller’s cardio was the issue, watch that punch that Bisping does - the one where he sort of paws at your head to tee up a massive right-hander to the body as you’re against the fence, it’s such a Bisping signature move that it should be in Undisputed - again, then try to decide if you’d be breathing right after taking it in the lung. Bisping once told me that he can’t understand anyone who isn’t conditioned to throw punches for three straight rounds, and he never even slowed down. Great night for knees to the body, too, although I hate to think what would have happened if the weird headkick he threw as Miller was taunting him on the ground had landed. 

What next for Bisping? Well, in an ideal world I’d be saying Sonnen/Silva soon, then Bisping/Munoz for the number one contender slot, but Silva’s injury and Henderson’s presence in the picture make that tricky. Sonnen should still be next, and if Hendo wants in - assuming you don’t just give him the shot - then him fighting Bisping would sort of make sense. It’s certainly a fight Bisping should want, and could win, assuming he circles to his right this time. Can he beat Silva? Maybe, if he lets Angry Bisping out early in the fight and doesn’t get caught. Easier said than done. 

*This is something I actually shouted during the fight. 

Well, what can I say about that? Firstly I got four out of five right, obviously, but also I can’t remember a fight when I’ve traversed the whole spectrum of shouting-at-the-TV so comprehensively. From yelping ‘Head kick! Head kick! Flying knee!’ at Shogun like he was a UFC Undisputed character with an infinite stamina bar in the early rounds, to a series of guttural yelps at the end (with a load of swearing in the middle), that was immense. Even my dinner-party guests - yes, I had dinner-party guest during the UFC - were enthralled. I was in a fugue state so I couldn’t really focus on the scoring, but I thought, at best, it could have been a draw. I don’t mind that it wasn’t, though - I’d rather see both guys move on than try to recreate such a career-shortening fight, and it barely even counts as a loss for Shogun. Best fight of all time? It was more technical than Griffin/Bonnar, longer and less-marred by groin-hitting than Hughes/Trigg and more meaningful than Misaki/Santiago, so I’ll say possibly. I’d have to watch it again, though.
 
What’s next for both guys? I say let Hendo do whatever he wants, he’s earned it. A shot at Jones would be easy to sell, because there’s always the chance of that H-Bomb landing any time in a fight, and a loss to the big man wouldn’t really derail the Hendo legend.  Another defeat against Silva would slightly mar the end of a career that’s peaked late - but if that’s what Hendo wants, fine. Shogun/Rampage 2 would make sense, too.
 
Silva didn’t look resurgent so much as he looked like Wanderlei Silva: in other words, however much trouble he looks like he’s in, you’d better not make any mistakes or he’ll send you to the rhinoplasty ward. Cung Le might have suffered minor ring-rust, but he suffered more from having never fought a man who wanted to hurt him so badly before. How do you prepare for a fight against Wanderlei Silva, except for telling your family you love them very much? Anyway, I wouldn’t mind seeing either man work the middleweight retirement circuit against Franklin and Belfort now.
 
What else? Faber looked improved enough to merit another title shot, Story blemished my record by not fighting sensibly, and I will happily watch Stephan Bonnar fight everbody he cares to. Not that any of that really matters on a night where the finale had me momentarily forgetting whole chunks of my vocabulary. That’ll do, UFC. That’ll do.

So it occurred to me that because I’m frequently right about how fights are
going to go down, it might be a good idea to post my predictions ahead of
time and look clever. It’s like betting, except I’m wagering my intellect
rather than actual money, and I can always edit the posts if I get it wrong.
Win-win!

I can’t see a way Shogun beats Dan Henderson. Pride Shogun always relied on
insane, relentless pressure - see his absolute dismantlings of Arona and
Jackson - and though he’s mellowed since, he still works best when he
dictates the pace of the fight. The trouble is, Dan Henderson fears no man,
and will happily walk forward flinging overhand rights at your head for as
long as it takes to knock you unconscious. The way to beat Hendo is to
somehow wear him down and submit/decision him, and I don’t think Shogun has
the discipline to fight like that for 15 minutes without taking an H-bomb in
the face. I’ll say Hendo, round two.

Silva vs Le confuses me, probably because I love Silva. Le’s very good at
methodically taking apart fellow strikers, so he sort of ought to win.
But…he’s been out for a while, and did I mention that I love Silva? I’m
saying decision win for a Silva, in a fight with at least one knockdown.

The other fights? Go on, then. At another stage Kampmann might have taken
Story out, but with Story coming off an unexpected loss in a fight he
arguably shouldn’t have taken, he fights the smart/boring way and takes a
wrestling-based UD. Faber’s still improving despite his recent losses, and I
reckon he’ll find a way past Bowles. And I can’t bet against Bonnar, even
though Kingsbury’s come out of his disappointing TUF run like a new man.

Final picks: Hendo, Silva, Story, Faber, Bonnar

So it turns out that when you put the best two heavyweights in the world together in a cage, there’s a chance that one of them’s going to get knocked out really quickly. Not the end of the world, but not brilliant if it’s the only actual fight happening on your inaugural bout on mainstream TV. It certainly seemed to upset Dana White, who - just before noting that new baddest-man-on-the-planet Junior Dos Santos tends to tire in later rounds - used the post-fight presser to express his disbelief that Cain Velasquez didn’t immediately push for the takedown. Notwithstanding the fact that Velasquez did go for an (admittedly half-arsed) shot in the opening minute, I find this a bit weird. Here’s why. 

Firstly, obviously, you don’t criticize your former heavyweight champion. As well as detracting from the new heavyweight champion who’s just pummeled him into unconsciousness, it hamstrings your attempts at hyping a rematch. White knows this: everyone in the UFC knows this. That’s why every fighter in the world talks up their opponent: if you denigrate him and then he breaks your orbital socket, you’re the one who ends up looking like an idiot. 

Secondly, JDS looks incredibly hard to take down. Plenty of commenters are ready to note that he hasn’t been ‘tested’ that much, in the way that someone who finds themselves constantly crushed against the fence, scrabbling for an underhook, is having their takedown defence ‘tested’. But that’s because JDS never gets in that position. His footwork very rarely leaves angles where he’s open to a straight blast double, he’s very astute about not being backed into the chickenwire, and he always, always looks ready to uncork a brain-shuddering uppercut into anyone foolish enough to drop down for a single. Chuck Liddell fought like this: Crocop Prime fought like this. I thought what they were doing was obvious to anyone who’s watched enough fights: but, given White’s reaction, maybe not. 

I like Chris Leben. He’s got underrated BJJ, fists like breezeblocks and, like all good videogame bosses, actually gets more dangerous when he’s on the brink of collapse. Last night I literally screamed ‘Zombie attack mode!’ two or three times during brief lulls in the pounding he took from Mark Munoz, and each time Leben responded, lurching forward in an attempt to regain the initiative despite having had several million brain cells eradicated. The defining image of the fight - and possibly Leben’s career - was him screaming, covered in blood, as he tried to wrench closed a Hail Mary guillotine. In the end, though, wounded-animal tenacity was no match for a Munoz who came prepared, stuck to the gameplan, and dismantled the Crippler like a man looking for a title shot. He’s probably one more impressive performance way from that, though - maybe against the winner of Bisping/Miller.
 
One man who didn’t respond so well to the promise of an impending run at gold was Brad Pickett, going up against an unheralded-but-lethal Renan Barao in the co-main event. Fighting a) In England and b) After a layoff, Pickett looked a bit too keen to impress, exchanging hands instead of fighting smart, and paid for it via a vicious knee and slick rear naked choke. He wasn’t the only Brit to falter: Vaughan Lee’s famous submissions were stifled by solid BJJ fundamentals from Chris Cariaso, Rob Broughton seems to have decided that being a heavyweight just means eating more cake, and Jason Young was so confused by Michihiro Omigawa’s superior head movement that he forgot which one of them was the top-flight judoka. The UK hero was Terry Etim, who clinically dispatched inexplicable 2-2 inclusion Eddie Faaloloto, but the standout performance - for me, anyway - was put in by John Maguire, who strung together takedowns and submission attempts like an extra-aggressive Jake Shields. Seeing a Brit with solid wrestling’s a rare treat, and I wouldn’t mind seeing Maguire fight Charlie Brenneman next. Elsewhere, a resurgent Che Mills absolutely blasted Chris ‘That Woo Guy’ Cope, and if you try to stand up with Thiago Alves, he will do his best to kill you. Also, I’m not sure whether the UFC deliberately save their famous Baba O’Riley intro for the live crowd, but it sent the British audience into a sort of collective frenzy. If they use it on their Fox debut they’ll either double their audience overnight or be responsible for truckload of punched-through TV screens.

I’m just going to come out and say this: let Nick Diaz do whatever he wants. I don’t care if he never goes to a press conference or answers a media call again: if I want to know what he thinks about anything, I’ll simply wait for him to post one of his rambling in-car video blogs. No more taking him out of good fights because he doesn’t like microphones.  
Nick Diaz might actually be afraid of interviewers: I don’t know, I’m not a psychologist. What he’s not afraid of is being punched, which he welcomes on the sole proviso that he’s going to hit you in the face at least three times for every time you hit him. Nick Diaz fights like you’ve stolen his girlfriend - he doesn’t care what the judges are doing, he’s simply going to try to hurt you from any position he ends up in. Combine that gameplan with a triathlete’s cardio and Calzhage-style slapboxing (not an insult) and you’ve got a fighter who’s completely incapable of being boring. He beat up BJ Penn, who normally starts and finishes fights looking exactly the same except for the blood of his victims on his knuckles, so badly that the Hilo native is considering retirement. And then he called out GSP: not with a Sonnen-style pro-wrestling nod/wink, but by expressing the sincere belief that the welterweight champ is scared of him.

Nick Diaz knocked out Robbie Lawler when he was the jits guy going up against the UFC’s new punch-machine, and he called Takanori a bitch after the former Pride champ had spent ten minutes hitting him in the face. He was so unconvinced by his decision loss to Joe Riggs that he carried on fighting him when they both got to hospital, and this is what happens when he falls off a bike. Obviously, GSP’s going to wrestle him to a 50-45 decision, but Diaz won’t mentally break and he probably won’t acknowledge it as a loss. And that’s absolutely fine: that’s the way MMA works, and I still want to see the fight more than almost anything else on the horizon. If the UFC still wants him to fulfil his press obligations, then pay for his therapy or make everybody be extra-nice to him until he starts to see the world for the magical place that it is. Until that happens: nobody ask him any questions that he can’t answer with his fists.