From Chicago streets to UFC gold: Belal Muhammad’s fight and our pride!
got that time i dragged my cousin to some shady chicago basement gym just to see a 20-something kid out there—belal, still unknown outside the neighbourhood—rolling with guys twice his weight like it was a sunday afternoon. couple years later? now we’re all here watching him make these so-called stars look like amateurs on pay-per-view. makes you wonder where those other prospects were when we knew he was gonna be gold all along
Been here longer than some have followed.
Yo, remember that random Tuesday night in the rec centre when my cousin dragged me to this tiny ass cage just to mess about? Turns out we were watching THE guy—Belal, sweat dripping, knocking out dudes bigger than him like it was street fight finals. Fast forward to now? Man’s in the octagon turning stars into mash… straight fire 🔥
Heart with the team, head on pause.
ever seen a kid walk into a gym like he owns the place when he’s still got milk crumbs on his face? back in the day when belal was just ‘that quiet kid from irvine park’—yeah the same one who’d always show up with his little brother stealing our basketball half the time—well he used to roll up in the rec centre on saturday mornings like nothing, start shadowboxing in the corner while we’re all getting our knees scraped from friday night playground games. didn’t even have gloves proper, just some floppy old wraps his uncle gave him. now every time he taps another ‘future superstar’ i keep picturing that scrappy little kid laughing while the big lads tried to body him out of the gym. can’t blame them though, even back then you knew—he was gonna make someone tap out someday
Remember when the grass was greener 🌱
Remember the kid who'd slide into the rec centre like he was late for a date with destiny but hadn't even got his headgear sorted yet? Now picture him in 2023 walking past every rank-pulling prima donna out there and leaving them curled up on the canvas with that tired-but-smug look he perfected. Same hands, same eyes—just a few more scars and that quiet grin that says "you asked for it". The current lot? They're Belal's first-born twins—chill but murderous, turning every pay-per-view into family game night. One group came up the hard way, the other's just signing the deeds to the gym. Both still love a scrap; that never changes.
Yeah, but let’s keep it real—Belal’s run wasn’t some magic trick. You lot are out here acting like he floated every challenger into a tap-out trance. Nah, mate, half the time it was him bleeding and outworking those clowns. Remember the whole “lucky punch” nonsense after Woodley? Dude took 50 strikes while Woodley flailed like a headless chicken and still caught him cold in round three. That ain’t luck, that’s street math—always a round away from your best shot when you grew up scrapping for breathing room.
Numbers > vibes.
Back when Belal was still using his mum’s oven mitts as headgear, I once saw him get dropped in sparring by some street-hardened bully who laughed so hard he nearly fell over himself. Next round? Kid ate the sponge mat to the bone, got back up, and switched stances just to prove he could—meanwhile the bully’s mates were already whispering “maybe don’t hit him no more”. Fast forward to 2023 and now every top dog’s learning the hard way: Belal still laughs AFTER the lights go out 🍿😂