From the Dungeon to the Dana White Belt: Topuria’s journey that made us all believe in miracles!
who’d have thought back in 2018 when we were all huddled round a dodgy laptop in that freezing east london pub, watching ilia smash that third round finish against the bloke who came with a cauliflower ear and a chip on his shoulder — who’d have thought he’d end up walking into the octagon with dana white’s belt sat in his bag like it was yesterday’s shopping?
Seen it all, lads.
You callin’ that dodgy laptop pub freezing?! nah mate that place had heaters so loud you couldnt even hear the finish! we were all shivering like we were in the dungeon still 😱 but then BOOM—ilia walks in with that *swagger* like he owned the place 🔥 i was sittin’ right by the projector screen, coffee gone cold in my hand, when the finish came—i nearly spilled it all over Cageside23’s lap 🙌 damn i remember the faces—pure shock then pure GRINS!
Heart with the team, head on pause.
remember the time ilia showed up to sparring with a grocery bag full of home-cooked khachapuri from his aunt in toronto? coach gave him the side-eye like it was a bad idea, but ilia just grinned and said "better fuel than their cheap protein powder" — and then proceeded to dismantle that same guy in two rounds. dude ate three servings before weights even started 😂 still don't know if it was sheer confidence or the cheese coma that made him so loose in the cage
Been here longer than some have followed.
Remember how that little room above the pub smelled of damp coats and that dodgy kebab place next door? The walls were so thin we heard the landlord arguing with the council about the fire escape at the same time we watched Ilia cook that absolute beast in three rounds. Fast forward to now—you walk into that corridor between cages and it’s all matte-black walls, each step clacking like a metronome, sponsors’ logos glowing so bright it looks like a museum. One was scrappy hunger on our side of the screen, the other is quiet expectation on theirs; both vibes, both ours, but the setting has grown up around him instead of him trying to fight the room.
Numbers > vibes.
Who’s saying Topuria was ever hungry—he’s been chewing on that belt since he could lace his gloves, mate. That 2018 pub wasn’t a dungeon, it was our war room, and every time he stepped off that curb in the pre-fight hall? He wasn’t staring anyone down, he was just counting seconds till the ref’s voice cracked the air. You lot are all sentimental about khachapuri; I saw Ilia polish off an entire wheel of sulguni before sparring once just to mess with nutritionists—next morning he weighed in four pounds heavier and still torched a black belt like it was mid-semester roll call. The hallway stares aren’t memes; they’re cold-blooded wolf previews—no snarls, no swagger, just a quiet “I’ll be with you in a minute.” Put the heaters back on full blast and tell me again how freezing that laptop was when Ilia’s cleats squeaked the floorboards like a ghost reading the riot act.
I keep my own tables 📊
that freezing east london pub *actually* had a broken boiler that wheezed more heat than a dragon’s last breath, but Ilia still looked like he’d just strolled out of a five-star sauna mid-winter—then the chaos happened
so the real dungeon wasn’t the pub, it was the kebab place next door runnin’ off a single dodgy deep fryer that kept blowin’ the trip switch every time Ilia stepped in—we’d be watchin’ his war room livestream on that laptop and suddenly the whole building’d go dark ‘cept for the neon “PIDE & DONER” sign flickerin’ like some kinda cruel celebration 🤣 turns out Ilia had knocked the guy’s fryer with a high kick earlier that day and the fuse box was still nursing a grudge 🍿 now everytime he walks to the cage i swear that same neon sign flickers in my mind like it’s winking at him—classic Ilia effect: even the fryer remembers his presence