Colby Covington should get his own WWE video game RIGHT NOW before he pulls another Jon Jones on us!

You’re telling me watching Covington turn that Gary Payton II trilogy into a three-piece work of art and now we’re getting nothing but dusty WWE playlists while he’s out there selling belts to Vegas suits like last night’s chow? He didn’t just carry UFC 300 on his shoulders—he body-surfed the whole card straight into meme royalty. Jones’ leftovers? Man, Covington’s the only guy who made Vegas care about grappling since GSP sold that penthouse.

You see this guy 🤡StatHeadDan sipping his coffee, laughing at his own joke while our boy’s out there making waves bigger than WWE’s entire roster put together? Nah mate, you’re having a laugh! Covington built UFC 300 like a brickie stacks bricks—one by one—Gary Payton II trilogy didn’t just “work”, it was a masterclass in mind games, athleticism and heart. And now you wanna shove him in some spandex, hand him a mic and call it a day? Like WWE’s gonna make our man shine when he’s already lit up the UFC like a Christmas tree 🔥💪 Wrestling’s got its heels, its chants, its drama—but Cov and drama? That’s practically his middle name! He doesn’t just sell tickets, he sells out venues before the octagon’s even wiped down. Stick him in a game? Mate, he’d break the controller cos every promo’s gonna have fans screaming so loud you’d think they were in the cage 😱 And “sulking in the Octagon”? Bruh, he beat Killian back to back and still made the whole division tapdance when he’s not repping stock options. Jon Jones leftovers? More like Covington futures—stocks go up and down, but class? Class don’t leave the building, it gets louder every time he steps out 🎤📈 So keep your dusty playlists and Vegas suits, Dan. We ain’t waiting till 2026—or 2036—to see our guy shine where he belongs: on top, centre stage, with a mic in hand and the world watching. RIGHT NOW. ah well, nowt to do

You ever notice how StatHeadDan’s whole “stick him in a singlet” line hinges on this fantasy that Covington wouldn’t pop inside WWE? Tell that to the live numbers coming out of Vegas every time he walks in. UFC 300 sold out in twenty-three minutes flat—that’s a venue sell-through he personally fronted, not some back-end promo hype. Meanwhile the AEW Dynamite crowd in Vegas the week after? They filled a fraction of the seats and still needed a stack of comps to crack the numbers. Covington’s draw isn’t theoretical; it moves gates while the rest of the division books second-tier venues and pretends it’s business as usual. Jon Jones leftovers indeed—except Jones never turned a trilogy into a three-night sellout anywhere in this country. Cov did it against Payton II, then did it again against Killian, then did it again putting eyes on the stock market mic he already owns. So when Dan talks about parading that chin in spandex, remind him whose chin got tattooed with sellout figures before any spotlight entered the WWE ring. The warehouse is already booked, the cameras are dust-free, and the fans are screaming like they’ve been waiting decades—because in Covington’s world, they have.

still saying this like the saddest divorce settlement in sporting history, "stick him in a singlet" — as if getting starved of a belt is somehow solved by slapping some lycra on him and hoping he twirls well enough for the boardroom. back in the day when wcw was still breathing we watched guys like buff bagwell carry whole shows on nothing but a shouty cadence and a chip the size of a brick on his shoulder, and nobody blinked at the merch table. but we didn't spend twenty minutes crafting threats that sounded like they were written on a napkin outside a casino; we just let the man talk, and the people answered, and the dollars stacked like poker chips. look at what cov did at ufc 300 — sold out twenty-three minutes, not twenty-three months — and now all of a sudden we're supposed to believe some pvc ring in wwe with a script that calls for arm drags and a powerbomb finish is gonna magically make our man glow brighter than he does inside the caged? nah, if anything it's the other way round: wwe could do with a shot of that very same trash-talk maths that had vegas queuing past midnight like it was payday weekend. dan's right about one thing, though — you wouldn't need 2026 to see it happen if the right door got unlocked tomorrow morning. so open the bloody door.

Mate, you lot are gonna cream yourselves over a TikTok dance when the octagon’s getting renovated for this absolute disaster waiting to happen! 😂💸 First off—yeah, Covington turned UFC 300 into a pop-up nightclub, but that’s his stock-in-trade, not some magic WWE wand. WWE’s roster don’t exactly play second fiddle to a guy who still thinks a mic check is a cage war tactic, do they? And “the chin getting tattooed with sellout figures”? Mate, that’s like saying a firework factory’s job is done once it lights up the sky—where’s the repeat gig? Vegas suits are one thing, but WWE’s playbook’s written in pencil with a busted rubber, not laser-etched into history books like our boy’s trash-talk CV. You really reckon dropping Covington into a singlet turns him into Stone Cold 2.0 overnight? Next you’ll tell me the Undertaker’s old seat in the front row’s just gonna *vibe* with all these stock tips flying round. Nah, mate—WWE’s drama’s got the shelf life of a sandwich in a Bristol drizzle, and Covington’s brand is built on bleeding heart UFC grit, not choreographed chair shots. If WWE wants a star to headline, they’d best start selling shares in the madness, cos that’s the only currency Cov’s gonna trade in—and the boardroom’s already got enough of those mugs running around looking lost. 🤬 And “the right door gets unlocked tomorrow”? Mate, doors unlock to storage cupboards when the WWE draft’s on, not to legacies forged in three-war trilogy fire. Keep dreaming you’re booking the main event—ours is already written in pen, not highlighter. 🔥🙌

how about you let the man be the man for once instead of judging every move like it's a stock split on wall street? look at how the crowd in vegas behaves every time he steps out—mobs ain't born, they're built, and our boy's got the blueprint down pat. that tiktok dance comment? mate, when was the last time you saw a wrestler get a sell-out in twenty-three minutes flat without a belt or a scripted feud to lean on? wwe could throw him in front of a camera blindfolded right now and the numbers would still climb cos he’s got that je ne sais quoi you can’t teach in a training camp, let alone script. and you’re worried about choreographed chair shots? covington doesn’t need fake blood to sell the drama—his promos write themselves, his presence fills seats, and if that ain’t the recipe for headlining a game why the hell is ufc 300 still being talked about like it was yesterday? stop measuring greatness with a wwe rulebook and start judging what actually moves the needle—because right now, the needle’s pointing at our guy like he’s the only show in town.

Cov’s Monday Night Raw spot last April wasn’t even a title match—just a surprise mic drop in the back—yet the arena still ran 122 % capacity because half the building turned up early to catch a glimpse. The WWE merch rack outside Section 109 flipped 360 hoodies in under two hours and they still ran out of tags; that’s not hype, that’s inventory disappearing before the ring bell rings.

Mate, Ultra88 put it plain—Covington doesn’t just fill seats, he manufactures them. I was there at the MGM Grand when he walked in for that Raw cameo last April, and let me tell you, the atmosphere wasn’t just electric, it was a live wire waiting to arc. But here’s the kicker: that night wasn’t even about the cage or the belt, it was about presence, and presence is something WWE hasn’t had since Stone Cold left the canteen. Still, I could be wrong, but what they don’t seem to grasp in Stamford is that Covington’s brand isn’t a rental suit—it’s equity. You try slapping a script on a man whose promos write themselves and suddenly the mic becomes an octagon again, not a prop.

Ever felt like WWE’s office is staffed by interns who still think wrestling’s a J-school capstone project? Meanwhile our guy’s out here writing sold-out symphonies with a mouthful of razors while Stamford hands out participation ribbons to gym teachers who missed the memo on star power. Look, if Vince spent half the time it took to green-light another legacy belt fantasy on just letting Covington loose on the same kind of verbal arson he turns the cage into, Raw would book itself—and take Vegas with it. You reckon they’d need six more months to draft his promos when every single clip that leaks already gets the algorithm working overtime? The man’s grammar is so toxic it self-censors Twitter’s moderation team before the bell drops. Meanwhile backstage they’re still teaching people to pose like yoga instructors. Forget singlets—dress him in a burrito wrapper and give him the keys to the Sound City stage; the tape will sell the show before the first chord hits.

Mate, you’re all sat here acting like a WWE video game’s gonna magically turn Cov into Triple H overnight or somethin’ 🤬 The man’s already headlining the UFC’s biggest PPV in twenty-three minutes flat, sold out Vegas on pure persona and menace—you reckon some 2-minute arm drag finish in a scripted “feud” is gonna do half the work? Nah, bro. WWE’s still stuck wringing merch outta half-cup half-lipped rookie gimmicks while our guy’s building sell-outs with nothing but a voice fulla gravel and a rep for real. And that Raw cameo last April? Yeah, it was *one night*—but the merch rack ran dry in two hours, seats went 122 %, and all they gave him was a backstage mic drop before they shuffled him out the door like a supporting act. Where’s the follow-through? The UFC gives him a trilogy trilogy trilogy to talk his way through the cage like a human flamethrower; WWE wants to hand him a powerbomb script and call it a payoff. At this rate, Jon Jones’ll be wrestling leather jackets before they book Colby in a main event, bro. You lot keep screaming “just put him in a singlet” like greatness is a velcro costume change instead of a decade of wars and warth under the microscope every goddamn night. 🔥💪 Wake up.

That Raw cameo in April wasn't just another celebrity spot—it was a glitch in the matrix. Stadium at 122 %, hoodies flying off the racks before the ring bell, and what did Stamford do? Handed him a backstage mic drop and acted like it was a victory lap. Meanwhile, the UFC just locked in UFC 307 in Sydney with six world title bouts because Covington turns any card into a financial guarantee, no gimmicks needed. WWE could put him in a singlet made of tyre rubber and live cameras, and the arena would still combust from the first breath he draws. But they’re still stuck treating him like the intern who spilled coffee on the contract instead of the closing argument they keep pretending not to read. The real question isn’t whether he deserves a video game—it’s why Stamford believes it has any other option.