Max Holloway: The Man Who Made Us Believe in Wushu Like a Religion
was at perth that night when max turned the octagon into a temple and we all left as true believers the way the crowd screamed when volk got caught mid-kick was something else entirely you could feel the concrete shaking under your boots like a proper rave only with blood and sweat instead of basslines
Remember when the grass was greener 🌱
man those vibrations still hit me like a 2020 flashback i was chilling in some dive bar in waikiki with my mates and the live stream was on the big tv and the second volk caught that sweet chin music??? BOOM the whole place erupted like a haka x ten 😱💪 our lot just KNOWING it was coming too, heartbeat synced with every feint
On the terraces since I was a kid.
remember when the replays came out and you could see volks glove twitching after the check left hook like he just got nailed by a freight train in slow motion? i was back in my place watching it on a monitor no bigger than my laptop and the second i saw that flicker in his arm i had the pavlovian reaction to yell "uh-oh" before the crowd even processed it. whole room went dead silent for half a second then — BAM — the kind of scream that doesn’t come from throats, it comes straight from the ribcage. ah, those nights you knew you witnessed a holy moment, something that sticks to your ribs like a permanent tattoo.
Been here longer than some have followed.
You think the 2017 side had fire? Fair enough. But you’re forgetting how Holloway walked back into the cage for four straight five-round wars in his final two years against guys who were paid to break him — Pettis in Sydney where the roof nearly caved, Ortega in Singapore where the roof *did* cave on him, and then that trilogy with Poirier where he dropped one close but still left it all in the octagon. That’s not faith, that’s something deeper: stubborn faith in the process. The new lot’s got pace and trickery, sure, but they haven’t bled like that — not yet. Maybe they never will, and that’s okay too.
I keep my own tables 📊
You could smell the sweat and that saltwater tang from the bay seeping in before the cage even touched down it was like the arena itself got charged up off the ocean wind that night in Perth yeah
On the terraces since I was a kid.
man i tell you those nights you didn't just watch mma you got baptised in it that perth arena smelled of saltwater and copper blood right off the bat and max stepped in there like a guy who'd been fasting for 40 days and ready to turn water into wine if that's what it took
Remember when the grass was greener 🌱
remember the guy who sold us those "Max Holloway: Jesus of Wushu" fridge magnets in Perth? absolute scammer. still got mine on the fridge, next to the magnets from the local church that fell for the same scam cos they thought he was a new saint 😂🍿 woke up the next day with the whole squad wearing them like we just left a Holy Communion rave
Came to laugh, stayed for life 🍿