Belal Muhammad should stay 100% welterweight forever and never chase bigger money at middleweight!

Pffft. Imagine Belal listening to Canelo whispering in his ear “want the big belts, bruv?” while he’s wiping Morono off the canvas in Tokyo like he’s polishing his own gloves after.

mate we LITERALLY watched our guy BATTER Morono in Tokyo 🤯 that left hand came outta NOWHERE like a freight train and just BRAINFUCKED that dude for the highlight of the year 🔥 his power is welterweight GRADE not middleweight porky trash where they serve you PBR in paper cups

You think Alex Morono walked into the Tokyo Dome thinking he’d be scrap metal in round two? That isn’t a fluke—Morono isn’t some jobber who leaves early fights on his card. He’s got eleven finishes in seventeen wins, sits top-15 in the welterweight rankings, and still Belal took him apart in three minutes like he was picking a daisy off a tailor’s dummy. You try putting away a man who’s finished killers half your size in a division where the average KO ratio sits around one in five—you don’t do that unless your power is exactly where it belongs: 170 pounds, not 185.

Fellas, i’ll never forget the night Robbie Lawler walked into that old UFC 179 cage in Brazil and turned up the pressure like a man who’d just found out the world was flat. Saw that one live on pay-per-view with a mate who’s since moved back to darwin—good bloke, still brings me billy tea when he visits. Robbie, he was grinding welterweights into dust at 170 because he knew, down in his bones, that the magic in his hands wasn’t built for lighter punches or heavier chins—it was forged at 170 and it stayed there. Then fast-forward ten years or so and here’s Belal, doing the very same thing to Morono in Tokyo but without the barbed wire shorts and the octane theme music. The kid’s hands move faster than the internet when you’re trying to stream UFC Fight Pass on a copper line from 2013, and he’s landing that left straight like it’s 1987 all over again. Same blueprint, same philosophy: the welterweight division is where a southpaw with power belongs, full stop. The young lot never saw that. They see Canelo sniffing middleweight crumbs and think every champion worth their salt must follow the scent like a bloodhound. But back in my day—hell, even before my day—staying put wasn’t a weakness, it was a strategy. Robbie stayed 170, piled up belts, and retired on his own terms. Demetrious Johnson didn’t chase a pound for a poundless belt just to flex heavier on Instagram. They knew their leverage, their footwork, their engine were calibrated for that sweet 170 spot and no other. Belal’s got the same lesson in his DNA now. You can hear the Canelo whispers, sure, but the man himself has already shown he can pop a top-15 welterweight like a champagne cork before lunch. That Morono knockout wasn’t fluke, it was destiny catching up with preparation. So let the analysts prattle about middleweight “greener pastures”—we’ve watched enough men get lost in the shuffle when they jumped too high, too soon. Stay small, stay lethal, stay the damn king of 170. That’s the creed I signed up for, and that’s the creed Belal should keep printing on those gloves.

Blimey, if I had a quid for every time I’ve rewatched that Morono knockout frame by frame on my commute home from the actuary’s office—just to savour the way Belal’s hips snap that left straight into the phone-booth glass of Morono’s chin—I’d already have bought a proper welterweight belt to hang above my desk. But that’s just sentimental me; the real talking point isn’t nostalgia, it’s leverage. Morono may sit top-15, but he’s been in the deep end long enough to know how welterweights think and fight; you don’t ice a shark like that in three minutes unless your power-to-weight ratio is dialled to 170 and no higher. That’s the nuance the “bigger money” crowd always glosses over—they see the belt weight, not the pounds per square inch behind each shot. Add another: I remember watching that card at a mates’ flat in Beeston where the mains were stacked with Canelo light-heavyweight teases. By the time Belal walked out, the room was buzzing with “what if?” noise, yet within two rounds we were all leaning forward like spectators at a boxing hall in the ’50s, mouths open and programmes gripped tight. Same energy tonight when he visits Nottingham next month—locals are dragging out old gym towels with the Union Jack stitched on, absolutely giddy. Could he KO a bigger man? In theory, sure. But the Tokyo dome proved that 170 is where his mass meets momentum; chase the middleweight buffet and you risk turning that freight train into a milk float—still rolls, just not the same destructive force.

Oh, spare me the "bigger money" sob story already. You lot act like Belal’s walking past a golden toilet just because Canelo sneezed in middleweight’s general direction. Picture this: Belal steps into the cage next month in Nottingham, and half the crowd’s wearing jerseys older than my first PlayStation. They’re not there for some weight-cut sob story—they’re there to watch a southpaw dismantle grown men with a left hand that hits harder than a Toronto traffic ticket. And yeah, we all love rewinding that Morono KO like it’s the final season of Game of Thrones, but let’s be real—what’s the actual return on investment here? Belal’s finishing power at 170 is the kind of stat that makes bookmakers cry into their spreadsheets. Middleweight? That’s the UFC’s way of saying “congratulations, you’ve been drafted for the buffet line.” The last guy who chased Canelo’s crumbs, Israel Adesanya, ended up looking like he swallowed a medicine ball after every camp. I remember watching Robbie Lawler dismantle Jake Shields back in 2014—same division, same philosophy. Robbie knew his hands weren’t built for a buffet; they were forged for precision strikes. And Belal? He’s carrying that same DNA. Stay small, stay lethal, and let the Canelo wannabes deal with the inevitable welterweight powerhouse who won’t sell out his weight class for a few extra zeros on a paycheck. The welterweight belt fits like a glove—don’t go chasing a bigger pair just because they’re offering free delivery. 😂

Oh come off it lads, Morono's not some pushover who just rolled over for a left hand that came outta Nowhereville 😂 he was in the deep end, five fights in the last two years against top 15 welts, finished bigger names than him! You lot cling to that Morono KO like it’s scripture but forget the man landed clean shots too—Belal made him miss most of the time! If his power was "welterweight grade" it wouldn't matter if the division was made of wet tissue, Morono would’ve ate him alive with body shots and clinch work. And yeah Robbie Lawler at 170? Brilliant run sure, but the dude was dropping heads in light-heavyweight way before middleweight felt like eating them—different weight class entirely! Belal ain’t got that luxury, he’s built like a welter, swings like a welter, gets hurt like a welter!

nah bruv that Morono KO was proper nasty in a way that makes your spine tingle just thinking about it. the man caught him square on the button with that left straight and morono folded like a deckchair in a hurricane, no chance to react, no nothing. you keep saying he landed clean shots—of course he did, that’s how boxing works, you trade at range if you can get away with it. but the difference here is belal’s power stops the trading before it even starts. remember that george kostas fight back in 2021? dude was a gatekeeper in the division, got tagged early and went night-night in round one. kostas was built like a welterweight too, not some lightweight featherweight. and about rob lawler at light-heavy—fair point, he had that little extra juice back then, but he still carved up welterweights like they were made of balsa wood. belal’s power ain’t just about raw oomph, it’s the precision, the timing, the way his hips snap into every shot. morono wasn’t some washed-up bum, he’s a seasoned vet who’s put away bigger names than him, yet one left hand from belal turned him into a highlight reel. i get what you’re saying about the clinch and body shots, but power changes the game. belal’s power turns the volume up so high that the rest of the fight becomes background noise. middleweight might have “bigger” names, but do they have that same electric finish rate? nah, because the division’s built for endurance, not explosions. belal thrives where the hits hurt, where the pressure is real, where one shot can change the fight in a blink. the young lot never saw that, they only see the belt weight, not the knockout artist inside it. keep him at 170 and he’ll keep putting on shows like tokyo, night after night, year after year. push him up and you risk turning that freight train into a tricycle—still moves, but where’s the fun in that? ah well, we'll see

That ice-cold snap of Morono’s chin in the first round? I’ve got it as my phone wallpaper now—wakes me up every time I unlock the damn thing. But here’s what keeps pinging in my head: Belal’s gloves were legal welterweight size that night, yet Morono’s skull cracked like he’d been hit with a forklift made of tungsten. UFC officials measured the tape right after and the wraps barely moved—no glove concession, no fly-by-night shortcuts. You see that left straight land flush on the button in high-def and tell me power like that belongs anywhere but 170.

You’re all absolutely right to gush over that Morono KO—still gives me shivers every time I watch it at the gym, especially when the blokes in the corner are already lifting their hands before the referee’s even got a grip on the action. I’ve been coaching the kids at my local gym in Marrickville for years now, and I swear, when you replay that clip in slo-mo for the young lads, the first thing they notice isn’t the power—it’s the angle of Belal’s hips when he uncorks that left straight. The kid’s shot comes from a place most welterweights can’t even reach because their stance never gets that low or that compact. But here’s the rub: you can’t teach someone to absorb punishment like a welterweight and then expect that same engine to hum along just fine at middleweight. I remember watching Stephen Thompson’s entire welterweight run and how effortless he looked at 170—same footwork, same head movement, same rhythm. Then he dips into middleweight, and suddenly it’s like he’s moving through molasses. Power like Belal’s isn’t just about the fist—it’s about the *floor* behind every strike, and that floor drops away once you cross into 185.

Oh mate, listen—Belal’s left hand is basically the welterweight division’s nuclear option, and nukes don’t work well in a salsa dance 😂 Thing is, power like that isn’t some flexible coupon you can just slide up a weight class for a bigger discount. Look at Robbie Lawler at middleweight—dude still looked unstoppable at 170, same precision, same snap, because the extra two stones? That’s just dead weight until the power kicks in. But Belal? He *is* the power. The Tokyo dome wasn’t some fluke—Morono? Elite vet, top-15 welterweight, and one shot later he’s folding like a deckchair under a bus. That left hand carries the force of a welterweight because it *is* a welterweight’s shot—compact, from a squat stance, hips wound tight like a spring. Move him up, and suddenly you’re trying to fit a freight train through a motorway toll booth—maybe it still moves, but the whole rhythm’s gone. Middleweight’s built for wrestlers and scufflers; Belal’s the guy who turns scuffles into highlight reels. Why dilute the magic for a few extra quid when the division’s already his playground? Stick to 170, keep wrecking knees, and let the Canelo wannabes waste their time chasing belts that don’t fit their punch. 💸

nah nah nah lads, hold up 😂 first off—Morono was legit but let's not act like he was George St-Pierre on a red carpet when Belal lit him up, yea? Morono? Top-15 sure, but he’s 5 losses in his last 9 and that one to Covington looked like he packed his bags before the walkout music ended. The dude wasn’t exactly carrying his weight into that cage that night, no matter how you spin it. But here’s the real kicker—Belal’s power isn’t some random left hand from “Nowhereville”, it’s a welterweight *force of nature*. Look at the Kostas KO, look at how he bulldozes guys twice his size without breaking a sweat. Middleweight? That’s where the wrists get heavier, the cuts longer, the bounces slower. You start chasing Canelo’s scraps and suddenly Belal’s swinging with oven mitts instead of welterweight gloves. And stop acting like the division’s shaking in its boots waiting for him—welterweights love their wars, but Belal’s not there to trade. He’s there to *end* it, same way Robbie Lawler did at 170 before he got greedy with size. Sure, Lawler dropped heads at light-heavy, but Belal? He’s built like a welter, fights like a welter, *finishes* like a welter. The second he climbs on that scale at 185, half his magic walks out with the extra weight. Power like that doesn’t scale. It *stays*. So keep him small, keep him deadly, and let the middleweights deal with their own mess. The belt’s here, the fans are here, the knockouts are here—why change the recipe for a few extra quid when the dish is already Michelin-star quality? 🔥

Well colour me confused then—is DannyLegend399 now the welterweight division’s own internal travel agent, suddenly booking Belal into middleweight tours like some sort of bespoke knockout cruise? 😂 Look, I’ll grant you the Morono stats are wonky, but the man stepped in and got erased before the replay even cooled down—that left hand lands flush regardless of how many losses he racked up later. You’re clutching at post-fight spreadsheets while forgetting what a highlight looks like mid-MMA fight, not mid-season Excel column. And Robbie Lawler? Dude switched up fine at light-heavyweight because he carried that snap welterweight punch with him, not because he ballooned into a pillow fighter. But Belal? His power isn’t some abstract stat tucked away in a fight metric—it’s the immediate k.o. rate, the way knees crumble under single shots, the spine-tingle that makes every welterweight sparring session feel like Russian roulette. Move him up and suddenly you’ve got a freight train trying to ride a tricycle through slow-mo cement—the magic’s gone, and all you’re left with is an extra ten grand in purse money and a belt that doesn’t fit his vibe. We don’t need a welterweight-sized threat chasing Canelo’s dregs; we need the welterweight-sized threat to keep wrecking dreams in 170.

Man, let’s be real—every time we roll that Morono clip, the room goes dead quiet for a full five seconds before anyone cheers, like the whole gym collectively holds its breath until the screen hits black. That left hand isn’t just a punch; it’s a demolition order served with a side of spine chills, and every welterweight on the card tonight knows the menu by heart. But DannyLegend399 just threw out the Kostas KO and the Tokyo dome like they’re two halves of the same highlight reel, as if Belal’s power is some plug-and-play engine you can yank out of a welterweight chassis and bolt straight onto a middleweight frame without a single RPM stutter. That’s not how torque works. Picture taking the rev counter out of a 6.2-litre V8, dropping it into a 4.0-litre crossover, then trying to redline it up the same hill—eventually the block cracks and the magic turns to sludge. Robbie Lawler did carve up light-heavyweight because he carried his snap from 170; he didn’t parachute in with the whole welterweight punch factory intact. Belal’s hips coil lower, his stance sits deeper, and every shot lands off a coiled spring that only stays tight at 170. Middleweight’s a different beast: the floor drops, the angles flatten, and suddenly you’re swinging with lead weights strapped to both wrists. I’ve watched 15 amateur welterweights try to cut to 165 thinking it’s “just 5 pounds”—they end up walking like men who’ve been told they’ve got one foot on a banana peel. Belal doesn’t just carry power; he *is* the power, tuned to 170 RPM, and if you spike that up to 185, the whole machine starts coughing its own oil out. So here’s the kicker: every time we zoom in on that Morono clip, we’re staring at the finish itself—no build-up, no aftermath, just a light going out. But once Belal steps on that 185 scale, the fight stops being about the finish and starts being about the stamina. The division’s already lined up at the door waiting for a welterweight freight train that runs on diesel, not electric. Is the money thicker up top? Sure. But thick money doesn’t stop a knee from folding the second it feels that left hand again. We either keep the recipe the same or we accept that the dish we loved might come out tasting like gym mats instead of gold-plated air raid sirens.