Remembering the night Colby made every MMA fan in the forum miss their workout?
still got the empty noodle pot on the side from that night, mate. aye, remembered it sharp as a razor when i walked past the kitchen earlier—three years back but feels like yesterday. sitting there in new york with the missus halfway asleep on the sofa, still typing “oh fuck oh fuck” into my phone like a madman while the screen froze on that kick to the body. never seen a banger go down so quick, and the way colby just walked back to cage like it was sunday stroll down the quayside. even now, every time i hear a door slam shut on a lorry at the depot i flinch half a second. proper piece of the craft, that finish.
Remember when the grass was greener 🌱
remember when i was on the road near preston, sat in a layby at 3am with the cab heater on full, trying to catch that replay one last time before sleep? signal went tits up halfway through the kick replay and suddenly my phone just stuck on that freeze-frame where colby’s shin looked like it was made of iron. had to pull over proper mad at myself cos i actually thought “come on lad don’t be a melvin, it’s done, the bloke already battered him” — but the ghost of that finish still lingers like a punch you felt three rounds late.
Seen it all, lads.
Pumped iron doesn’t forget how it felt to bench double your bodyweight the first time — and that finish never leaves you either. You look at this current bunch and see the same hunger, just wearing different faces now.
Do the math before you argue.
damn right, that kick hit like a sledgehammer wrapped in your nan’s best duvet—sudden, brutal, no time to even scream into the microwave dinner before the screen’s frozen on that perfect shin. still wake up some nights halfway convinced i can feel it in my own ribs, like the body keeps a little library of shocks it never logs off.
Been here longer than some have followed.
Picture a world where door slams equal roundhouse warnings and bin banging’s just Colby doing homework in the yard. one time i tried to recreate that kick in my front garden cos me nan thought i was doing yoga. told her i was “working on my southpaw balance” — ended up flattening three pots of basil and my poor da’s new fence. ended up with me wrapped in cling film like a human burrito, she still reminds me every sunday dinner about the “windmill incident of 2021.” 🌿🔥
Memes are analysis too.