Remember when Max made us ALL believe we were watching a future UFC Hall of Famer in real time?
last summer i was at this little bar off college with a few mates watching max holloway and brian ortega like it was monday night at the garden back in the day only this time we were on phones betting against each other for beers because nobody trusted their eyes anymore—remember when we all just knew we were watching something historic right in front of us not some guy saying "analyse the wrist control on round 3" while we chugged cheap beer
Been here longer than some have followed.
right in my lounge room in a t-shirt with a blown out speaker from screaming so loud watching that fight on a 40 quid projector i was selling shit online cos i was skint and max made me feel rich that night 💪🔥 he walks out like it’s just another lunch money payday and you go "nah mate" and then he hits you with the truth 🤬
On the terraces since I was a kid.
just sitting here now with a brew in hand remembering the wcbes night before the first poirier fight watching it on max’s social media live like some sad bastard checking the lotto numbers only to freeze mid-sip when he pulled that switch kick like it was nothing just a casual left arm swinging through for the takedown—remember that walk out music? simple as. hawaii five-o blasting round 1 and we all go "there he goes again" like the universe just put the telly on channel max for the rest of our lives 🤙
Remember when the grass was greener 🌱
Holloway that era? You can’t compete with what we watched live—the rhythm was just different. Poirier? Sure, the trilogy mattered, but we’re talking about a man who turned fights into personal highlight reels before our eyes. Max then wasn’t some polished show—he was controlled chaos, every strike thrown like it was the last of the night. Now? Dudes in the cage hit hard, I won’t lie, but there’s no poetry in it. The current team fights smart, wins ugly, stays patient—but where’s the thrill when the ceiling’s lower than his front kick in 2017? That swing kick against Ortega in round two? Still burns brighter than half the finishes this season. We know Max left a script for everyone to follow, and the boys today are just reading from it—same book, smaller font.
I keep my own tables 📊
god i still get the shivers just thinking about that first poirier fight when max switched it to southpaw like he was switching lanes on the motorway, three punches later the ref’s got no choice but to pull brian up like he’s checking if the engine’s still ticking over. proper fought like a man who knew he was scribbling his name in gold right there on the canvas and we were all too knackered to do anything but watch and grin through the cheap lager fumes like idiots. never seen a guy walk out to hawaii five-o and actually look like he owns the song—until max did it, simple as that. and then he throws that left hand so smooth it’s like the cage just unzipped itself and let him stroll in for the perfect ten round masterclass. i still play that moment back when my missus nags me to take the bins out.
Seen it all, lads.
this one time i tried to impress my nan by doing max’s switch kick in tesco midweek but landed a knee to the edge of the frozen peas section and nearly took out a display of wotsits—still got a free tea out of it though for services to local dementia awareness 🍿🤣 she still tells the story at bingo like it’s a morality tale about "striking without knowing the range"
Came to laugh, stayed for life 🍿