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I can’t even put into words how infuriating last night turned out to be.
I was on the verge of calling it one of the best cards I’ve ever seen. I texted a friend, “Unless there’s some crazy controversy, this main event can’t ruin the night.” Boy, was I wrong.
Khamzat came in as the future superstar. The grappling answer to ’80s Tyson—unhittable, fearless, ready to steamroll everyone. Instead, he sat on top of Du Plessis like a human blanket, GSP-style lay-and-pray for five rounds. No flurries, no big submissions, no urgency—just pitter-patter control that felt more like a clinic in boredom than domination. What a letdown.
Meanwhile, Dricus Du Plessis—built like a Greek god, multi-millionaire status, with financial access to the best U.S. and Caucasus wrestlers—chose to post flashy submission videos against guard players from Gracie-Barra, instead of really sharpening his wrestling for this fight. Watching him survive Cain-Velasquez-versus-JDS level ineptitude on anti-wrestling strategy was unforgivable. Five rounds of John Kavanagh/SBG improvisation: zero game-plan adjustments, zero counters, zero technical coaching. It was embarrassing.
A guy who needed two or three wins to be in Anderson Silva’s GOAT conversation ends up getting outpointed 50-41 in a title fight. That’s a legacy killer.
Even more pathetic? The most hyped grappler in UFC history racked up 17,654 crucifixes and did absolutely nothing with them—no close chokes, weak as piss ground-and-pound. He got stood up from side control, for crying out loud. He got booed out of the arena!
I’m deadly serious when I say this: I have zero interest in watching Khamzat. His fights now fall into exactly three scenarios:
Only the third option promises real entertainment—and it has about as much chance of happening as me winning the lottery. He’s become the guy you actively root against, who will probably only show up once a year, delivering the same binary, predictable performance.
What was a thrilling division just a week ago has morphed into a yawn fest. Another strike against the UFC, the spiral continues. It’s almost 2026, and we still have P4P-level fighters who cannot strike to save their lives. Shambles.
I was on the verge of calling it one of the best cards I’ve ever seen. I texted a friend, “Unless there’s some crazy controversy, this main event can’t ruin the night.” Boy, was I wrong.
Khamzat came in as the future superstar. The grappling answer to ’80s Tyson—unhittable, fearless, ready to steamroll everyone. Instead, he sat on top of Du Plessis like a human blanket, GSP-style lay-and-pray for five rounds. No flurries, no big submissions, no urgency—just pitter-patter control that felt more like a clinic in boredom than domination. What a letdown.
Meanwhile, Dricus Du Plessis—built like a Greek god, multi-millionaire status, with financial access to the best U.S. and Caucasus wrestlers—chose to post flashy submission videos against guard players from Gracie-Barra, instead of really sharpening his wrestling for this fight. Watching him survive Cain-Velasquez-versus-JDS level ineptitude on anti-wrestling strategy was unforgivable. Five rounds of John Kavanagh/SBG improvisation: zero game-plan adjustments, zero counters, zero technical coaching. It was embarrassing.
A guy who needed two or three wins to be in Anderson Silva’s GOAT conversation ends up getting outpointed 50-41 in a title fight. That’s a legacy killer.
Even more pathetic? The most hyped grappler in UFC history racked up 17,654 crucifixes and did absolutely nothing with them—no close chokes, weak as piss ground-and-pound. He got stood up from side control, for crying out loud. He got booed out of the arena!
I’m deadly serious when I say this: I have zero interest in watching Khamzat. His fights now fall into exactly three scenarios:
- He ragdolls opponents in the first three minutes - boring, predictable, no jeopardy.
- He feels any resistance, so he bunker-downs into a lay-and-pray snoozefest.
- Some miracle challenger stops his takedowns and batters him.
Only the third option promises real entertainment—and it has about as much chance of happening as me winning the lottery. He’s become the guy you actively root against, who will probably only show up once a year, delivering the same binary, predictable performance.
What was a thrilling division just a week ago has morphed into a yawn fest. Another strike against the UFC, the spiral continues. It’s almost 2026, and we still have P4P-level fighters who cannot strike to save their lives. Shambles.
