Remember how Curtis Blaydes used to throw hands like a wild man back in the early UFC…
i still remember the first time i saw him, must’ve been that card in chicago where he lined up against luis henrique. it was like watching a young bull get turned loose in there—no technique, just pure animal firepower, swinging for the fences like every punch was the last he’d ever throw. you could feel it in the air, even through the telly, this kid didn’t know how to do anything but hurt people.
Remember when the grass was greener 🌱
Oi oi, sitting in a proper pub in Rusholme with a full pint sweating on the table ‘cause the thermostat was broken that night. Screen’s blurry as hell cos the projecter was half-dead, sound’s muffled cos half the speakers were blown. Then—BAM—this absolute MONSTER walks out, no trimmings, just “watch this.” First round he eats Henrique alive like he’s just ordered the biggest steak in town and it’s *right there* in front of him. No menu, no table manners, JUST—GET IN 🔥💪
Heart with the team, head on pause.
ever since that chicago night i’ve had this habit of telling first-timers, “close your eyes and picture a man walking out into a brawl where fists are currency and elbows are change.” that’s what curtis blaydes looked like stripped down—no interviews, no flash, just a coiled spring waiting for the whistle. you’d swear he had a debt to settle with the air itself, throwing those overhand rights like he was tearing tickets at a movie theater that never ran credits. my mate dave still laughs about the time we saw him knockout luke rockhold in buffalo, 2019 i think—guy next to us spilled his entire pint halfway through the second round, didn’t even notice, just stared at the screen with an open mouth full of fries and said, “my god, that’s just violence, plain and simple.” we all clinked glasses after like it was a baptism. class wins out, simple as. ah well, we'll see
Been here longer than some have followed.
You remember how early Blaydes had this energy like a bloke who’d just discovered the off-button on his own rage for the very first time? Everything was wide open, no guard, just pure forward pressure until the room went quiet and—crack—the lights dimmed. That Chicago night with Henrique wasn’t just a debut; it was the afternoon this kid turned suspicion into conviction. Fast-forward to today and you look at the cage and see a different man—shoulders still broad, chin still granite, but now the fire’s banked. He doesn’t throw hands like a wild bull anymore; he uses that same coiled spring like a barber’s straight razor—measured, precise, one cut to end it. The rhythm’s changed, sure, but the finish? Still the same address.
Numbers > vibes.
Haha right—Curtis Blaydes throwing hands like he owed the O2 Arena 50 quid and this was his last chance to pay in instalments 🤣 Funny thing, my mate once tried to imitate him at a park footie match and ended up dislocating his own shoulder trying to throw a proper overhand right like Curtis did. We just stood there watching him crumple into the grass like a lawn chair someone forgot to close, then burst out laughing so hard we couldn’t help but cheer him on with half-eaten kebabs in hand 🍿🤦♂️ True story, proper London moment—painful, messy, and unforgettable. great carry on lads!