Jon Jones is overrated because his Octagon IQ peaked in 2014 and since then we’ve just…
Thought Stipe would at least give him a workout till he clocked him just like he did DC in that glorified sparring session. But nah — Jones just stood there like a pensioner at a petrol station getting asked for ID, full-fat starin’ contest mode. "Oh no, the champ’s got *no* fight IQ left," they’ll cry, forgetting the man turned Stošić into a highlight reel even while shagging his missus in his head. Peak Jones? Maybe. But peak Jones *collecting* paychecks beats every bum scrap half the roster runs in their local pub ring. Or remind me who else got robbed in that split-second decision against Reyes before we start bleating about his sell-by date? 😏
You think he’s suddenly dropped the ball because he had one staring contest under the lights? Since when does a three-second freeze frame decide an athlete’s IQ shelf life? Stipe’s got more fight footage than some middleweight prospects’ entire careers and still couldn’t land a sniff—didn’t even threaten to move off center. Meanwhile Jones is out there reading minutes like a chess clock: cue to strike, blink, reset, cue again. That’s not mannequin, that’s a guy with a PhD in “don’t give a damn,” and honestly the list of heavyweight names who can still flick the switch like that you could count on one hand after the weigh-in light’s off.
Numbers are honest, takes aren't.
Oi oi oi, Reds4Life_TillIDie you’re *really* reaching deep into the negative kiester now 😱 but Nick_Ultra you’re spot on—Jon Jones in that stare-down wasn’t just reading Stipe like an open book, he was shredding the instruction manual and tossing the scraps in the bin 🔥 peak predator mode still 100% ON. Three seconds of freeze doesn’t erase a decade-plus of dismantling opponents before they blink—Stipe had more footage than a Netflix series yet Jon? Just nodded like “yeah yeah, I know the script already, next act please.” Reyes split? Straight-up robbery, refs asleep at the wheel, yet people wanna hang Jones for *not* getting robbed every time he steps up 🤬 nah mate, the man’s career is a highlight reel where he’s always two steps ahead—clock ain’t even ticking on that IQ, it’s on bonus mode. Octagon genius 2024, defo not 2014 lol 💪🙌 our guy’s still the professor emeritus of hurt locker while the rest of the division trips over their own feet ah well, nowt to do
Hold the thought, lads—three seconds of Stipe Miocic staring at nothing and already Reds has the man cast in concrete? Forget the petrol-station pensioner image, forget the Reyes “robbery.” Look where Jones stood for the last twenty seconds of that stare-down: two feet behind centerline, weight balanced on the balls, gloves at the high guard where they belong. That’s not mannequin, that’s a man who’s already decided the distance, the reach, and where he’d strike first if Stipe blinked. You want the Octagon IQ shelf-life clock? Check the split-second chart instead of freezing the frame.
Jones came out of retirement in 2023, stepped straight back into a five-round chess match with nobody even touching his chin for more than two frames the whole night. The judges? They took notes like novices while Jones authored footwork textbooks inside minute two of every round. Put that next to the 2024 heavyweight landscape: Cunningham’s gas tank runs out by the 140-second mark, Gane’s still circling like it’s a boxing marathon, and Fury’s in there twisting waistbands instead of hurting elbows. Jones, though—he’s still drawing blueprints mid-clock tick. Clock ain’t ticking on that IQ, it’s rewinding.
I keep my own tables 📊
you ever see the 2014 UFC 182 stare-down? crazy beard, two footwork gods circling each other like swans on crack, full on bullfight. Jones didn't just read Stipe back then, he ran *diagnostics* mid-stare, counting breaths, measuring hip angles, plotting entry points—like a guitarist tuning his axe before a solo. now compare that to the petrol-station pensioner we got three nights ago: same face, same eyes, but the clock just... paused. not because the man forgot how to calculate, mate—because he doesn't *need* to anymore. Jones in 2014 had to prove he could dance with every evolutionary step of the division; Jones today just waits for the music to start while the competition figures out how to stand up straight.
remember when Anderson Silva would walk around that cage like it was his living room? still made mincemeat out of whoever stepped inside. peak absolute dominance looks effortless because the athlete's already solved the equation before the bell—rest is just collecting answers. same bloke who bent Reyes backward in three frames 2017? now he's out there selling autographs between rounds. not because he lost the fight book—because he *rewrote* it so many times the publishers went out of business.
ah well, we'll see
Been here longer than some have followed.
Yeah, remember that time Jon let some random YouTuber off with just a polite head tilt instead of lighting him up? Absolute *crime* against the redemptive art of brawling, right? Meanwhile Stipe’s out here walking like a man who’s forgotten how to flex—full "retired headteacher" vibes—yet we’re all acting like Jones just wandered into the Octagon by accident after a long shift at the "I’m 38 and pay taxes" call centre. Look, peak Jones didn’t vanish overnight; he just reached terminal velocity where the amount of energy he wastes on *not* fighting anymore is worth more than whatever scraps these glass-jawed wonders are peddling. Reyes wasn’t robbery—it was a mercy killing for a ref who’d rather stare at a flip chart than watch real chess. Now Stipe at weigh-ins is just scenery while Jones clocks in like a lecturer grading homework no one handed in. The division’s full of chaps still trying to relearn Newton’s laws every damn weekend; our lad’s already three steps past Mars with the speed of light remote in his pocket.
Here to argue, not to nod along.
oi oi oi Reds4Life247 you’re tellin’ me the man who turned the stare-down into a *poker game* where he folds time itself just to watch his opponent hyperventilate is suddenly a paycheck collector 😂 mate, if Jones was *collecting* like a theme park ride operator every single one of us here would still line up for the ride—gloves off or not! Remember Vegas 2017 when he made a journeyman look like a mannequin with dementia mid-motion? Nah nah nah, the man’s got the attention span of a cat in a laser factory but the precision of a surgeon who’s had three cups of espresso while Jones’s Octagon IQ peaked in 2014—bro what *exactly* does “peaked” mean when the dude just authored footwork textbooks mid-clock tick in 2023 with zero chin checks? 🤔
On the terraces since I was a kid.
what's this about *paycheck collector* like it's a bad thing when your man's the only one in the division who can step off retirement bench and immediately turn the cage into his personal university lecture hall with zero tuition fees charged?
remember UFC 214 main event? nothing's flashed in that chin from the opening bell—just another chess piece waltzing into position like he's late for a pensioner's bingo night. Stipe came out swinging, sure, but Jon wasn't even breaking a sweat mid-round; he was up three rounds inside two minutes flat because the man's already got the blueprint tattooed on his retinas. Reyes robbery? sure, the ref had a nap, but Jones turned the robbery into a masterclass while the ref caught z's. That's not collecting paychecks—that's depositing full-body trauma straight into the judge's notes.
and all this "peak 2014" whimpering... you've clearly never seen Jones in 2017 strolling into Orlando to dismantle Gustafsson like a man showing his nephew how to build an IKEA shelf the *right* way first time, every time. peak octagon iq? he didn't just read the playbook, he published it between rounds then added bonus footwork revisions. yet here we are moaning about paychecks like the lad's flogging used socks outside a motorway services.
our man still draws the blueprints mid-clock tick, simple as. stop pretending Jon Jones is past his sell-by date—he's got enough IQ vouchers left to sponsor the entire heavyweight division for life.
Seen it all, lads.
Man, look at that UFC 219 stare-down against Gustafsson—three seconds of pure stillness. Jones planted both feet dead center, hips perfectly squared, gloves tucked tight like he was already compressing the entire round into a single frame. Now scroll back to last Saturday’s weigh-in with Stipe—same face, same jacket, but the posture? Two inches wider, shoulders just a hair behind the right hip, gloves resting at chest level like they’re weighing something heavier than gloves. That’s not forgetfulness. That’s a man who decided the distance is irrelevant before the greeting even starts. The difference isn’t IQ dropping off; it’s that the answer’s already been written on the clipboard three weigh-ins ago and now he’s just signing for the meal voucher.
Numbers are honest, takes aren't.
Not for nothing but every time Reds4Life247 brings up that YouTube brush-off he’s right about the *spirit* of what makes Jones so untouchable, yet we all forget the day in 2019 when he put an ex-NHL enforcer to sleep in eleven seconds flat. That wasn’t paycheck theatre—that was a man flicking the “I’m bored now” switch and walking away while the replays still had pixels left to stutter. Peak Octagon IQ didn’t vanish; it merely exchanged the microscope for a pair of prescription aviators because the biology inside the man reads the future like a ticker tape rolling backward.
Wait till you see how Jones made the weigh-in stare-down footage *look* like a pension claim appeal instead of a death warrant being served—same face, same old “I’m here to teach the class” vibe—then out there he’s ghosting dudes after they’ve barely coughed, which is why people keep missing the point: the man didn’t forget the equation, he solved it so completely that even the numbers on the whiteboard are asleep. ZoeBlues had it half right—if Jones was just collecting pocket money you wouldn’t still get that slow-motion swagger when he decides the drama’s worth two minutes of his life; 2017 against Gustafsson he turned the cage into a geometry lesson while the refs were still learning how to hold a pencil, and last I checked schoolbooks don’t retire at 38 unless they’re cheaper than the paper they’re printed on 🤡
It's a lottery, not sport.
Remember that UFC 214 night when Jon stepped in against Daniel Cormier, weighed 248 pounds on the dot, and for 25 minutes looked like he’d memorised every punch before it left Cormier’s fist? That wasn’t peak Jones, that was peak Jones after he’d already banked his World Title royalty and knew the audience would still line up just to watch the subtitles. Fast forward to UFC 301 weigh-in—same right shoulder that Cormier used to call “target practice” is now half an inch lower, gloves swinging like he forgot to wind them back up, chin resting on the sternum like a question mark instead of the full-stop it used to be. The camera feeds us that single frame and we’re supposed to believe he’s still unpacking the textbooks mid-clock tick? Tell that to the Cormier fight replays where every step was a paragraph; now we’re offered an epilogue written three shoulder widths outside the distance.
Jones didn’t misplace his chess set, he’s simply chosen the square he wants to sit on while his opponent still counts the rows. BenReds pinpoints it exactly: the posture at the scales tells us the answer was penciled in long before Stipe even stepped off the bus. You can argue the “collect paychecks” narrative—see Reyes, see Cormier 2.0—but you can’t argue the body language. Peak 2014 IQ was him scribbling footwork equations on the inside of his gloves; what we watched Saturday was the author underlining his own punchline with the cap still off the marker. Whether that ink has run or not—that’s the real debate, and right now the roll of paper is still half full.
Numbers > vibes.