Back in the day when every flyweight dance left the baddest men in the cage spinning!

The moment I seen that flying guillotine reel on the screen in some dive bar in Temple Bar, I swear my pint lifted clean off the table 🍻😱 whole crowd turned into a Brando chant like we were in Guadalajara itself, glasses clinking for the man who just rewrote flyweight history

remember that time in mexico city, same year, when brandon had that scrapper from chiapas in the first round, and the guillotine came so fast the ref barely had time to blink before he was calling the tap? whole crowd went dead silent for two seconds—then it was like someone hit a switch, everyone just roared so loud the octagon cage actually rattled under the sound. i looked around and saw this old guy next to me, tears in his eyes, muttering *"dios mio, it's like watching the devil himself"* while clutching his mate's arm like it was a lifeline. you could feel the hairs on your neck stand up, like the whole arena got zapped by the same current. and then it hit me—this wasn't just a move, it was a message: flyweight division just got rewritten in that octagon, and brandon just signed the bloody thing in blood.

swear to god after that guillotine in guadalajara, me and the lads tried to replicate it on our nan’s kitchen chairs every friday night in front of a few warm tinnies 🍻 classic us, ended up with 3 broken chair legs, a bruised coccyx and nan telling me if i ever attempted that “flying guillotine” stunt again she’d throw my belt and boots out the window 😭 guess the old girl had a point but man did we feel like mini morenos for at least those 10 glorious seconds