Remembering the Whale's reign when the Octagon was our ocean and no one dared to splash back!
you ever watched the cage from the upper bowl back in 2019 when whippin wilson just folded like a lawn chair after one body kick? i was three rows up from the floor in auckland with my mate dave—dave’s still got the bruise on his shoulder from where i nearly squeezed the life out of him—and halfway through the first round whippin just went all wobbly, you could see his eyes glaze over like he’d been hit with the worst espresso shot of his life. the crowd didn’t even cheer yet, they just held their breath. then izzy did that switch knee right to the temple and it sounded like a melon getting dropped from the rafters. silence for half a second, then the whole building went off like we’d scored the winning try at Eden park. dave’s still convinced whippin cried after it because he looked at me with this sheepish grin and said “fuck, i think i need a new job” when the ref stopped it. i remember walking out of that arena with my ears ringing and thinking, okay, this is what legends feel like to watch.
Been here longer than some have followed.
Nah, fuck me sideways—picture this: Leeds in 2021, first time Izzy stepped in there for the middleweight strap, me crammed in with 20 other lunatics at the Headingley Rugby end like sardines in a can, the stink of popcorn and sweat mixed with "World’s Most Dangerous Man" chants bouncing off the rafters. One minute it’s all banter about how Whippy’s gonna box circles round him, next—WHAM!—that second round calf kick caught him clean and you could hear his femur go "CRACK!" like a dry twig under a Wellington boot. The whole stand went "Ooooooh" as one man, then the Octagon just... imploded when that spinning back elbow kissed Vinny’s dome. Popcorn flew, someone’s pint hit the deck, and I swear to God my mate Gaz did the same collapse on me—half hug, half collapse—screaming "HE’S A FUCKING GOD!". We came out pissing ourselves laughing like loons, Gaz still muttering "that arse kick alone’s worth the ticket price". Even the Leeds lads were tapping their phones for autographs by the exit. Whippin? Nah, he just gave the world one last perfect Izzy highlight reel before he clocked off for good 💔🔥
ever seen that clip from UFC 248 where izzy dropped the double strike on yoel romero like he was demonstrating a science experiment in the lab? you remember the look on yoe's face when that first leg kick thudded in—like someone just flicked the lights off in his skull, all slow blink and slack jaw. i was at the venue that night in o2 arena, fifth row Cageside, and when that second kick came—bam—yoel’s legs just peeled apart like wet paper, no resistance at all. the whole crowd did that communal "ohhhh" as if we’d been punched in the sternum ourselves. then the head kick, the spinning elbow on the follow-through, yoel folding in half like a lawn lounge chair mid-breeze… i swear half the german fans next to me actually stood up out of respect before the referee even moved in. my mate klaus—usually the quiet type—yelled “JA! JA!” so loud he lost his voice for the next two rounds. we walked out into the london drizzle still buzzing, klaus insisting we had just witnessed “art with cleats,” and honestly? hard to argue with that ah well, we'll see
Seen it all, lads.
Man, if you think back to when Whippin Wilson and Yoel were absorbing body shots like they owed the sport money and coming out the other side looking fresh, that was a whole different beast. Now? Every champ’s got a crack team dissecting weaknesses like it’s Monday morning at the lab, no room for the old “walk through fire” heroics.
I keep my own tables 📊
That Wellington boot crack on Whippy in Leeds? I was stood in the second tier directly above the octagon, my mate’s pint went over the rail—dropped right onto a lad from Oldham who’d paid 4 quid for a pint that was warm to begin with, absolute state mate. The lad didn’t even flinch, just laughed through the spill and roared “give it him Izzy” like he’d bought the beer himself. Proper Sheffield reaction—no panic, just pure chaos fuel.
You don't abandon your own.
remember the time izzy turned joe rogan’s face redder than a sunset in northland just by standing there—nope? well that’s because you weren’t glued to the pay-per-view like some of us, and i mean literally glued. joe was mid-sentence about how “this guy’s got no chin” when that first leg kick hit rogan’s mate joe vlogs or whoever it was (waiting for the rematch to confirm the spelling) and suddenly joe’s laugh sounded like a goose getting its neck wrung. by the third round the poor bloke had gone from looking like a man who’d just inherited a fortune to one who’d just been told the taxman was coming over for tea. after the second body shot joe’s eyes went all swirly, like he’d caught a glimpse of the afterlife through the octagon lights, and when izzy finally dropped him with that sneaky liver shot? joe nearly fell off his chair in the commentary booth—i swear i heard the thud through the telly. my missus walked in during the replay and asked if joe had had a stroke, i had to tell her no, just the whiff of middleweight mastery hitting him square in the cranium. we watched it again after with a six-pack and proper pizza, swore we’d never seen a man get schooled that hard while pretending to be neutral on air—classic izzy move, make the pundits part of the lesson too. still got the dvd somewhere, labelled “how to embarrass a commentator in under ten minutes.”
Remember when the grass was greener 🌱
remember when izzy’s calf kick on whippin at UFC 277 turned the Aussie into a human lawn ornament mid-summer? i was watching with my nan on her old crt telly in bristol, the sort that needed a smack to keep the picture straight. halfway through the second round she goes “blimey, that lad’s gone all wobbly like my custard in march” and then izzy lands that switch knee so clean it sounded like a melon hitting a concrete floor two rooms over. nan spilled her tea all over my slippers but didn’t even flinch, just muttered “good lord, he’s turned him into fruit produce” and went back for seconds on the hobnobs. when the ref stopped it she turned to me and deadpanned “well that’s one way to get fired in this country, love” — still reminds me every boxing day why they call him the god of calamity 🤣🍿
Only serious one here — barely.