That moment when the mighty beast from San Luis Potosi gave us flyweight kingship and a KO nobody saw coming!

Man I was in me nan’s front room with the telly up so loud the neighbour banged on the door just as that knee hit Kadish’s temple and the whole set rattled like we’d been hit by a bus 🚨🔥

heh, you young ones never had it like the dorm room crowd in 2020—i was sharing a tiny flat near the uni, two mates crammed on my single bed with laptops balanced on knees, and the second brandon slipped that right hand into a slick armbar setup i swear the roof nearly lifted off, water bottles bouncing like popcorn 🍿 my laptop trackpad died mid-submission celebration, still got the burnt-out key tucked in a drawer as a relic. those were the nights when silent brandon became the beast we all knew was inside.

Hell yeah, lads. Remember that night in 2020 like it was yesterday? Quiet kid walks in, nobody expects a thing, and before you know it the whole world’s tilted for Mexico. Kadish didn’t stand a chance because Brandon’s relentless grind on the mat wasn’t just pressure—it was a life sentence. And that flying knee? Absolute ice in the veins. No flash, no overcommit, just precision that dropped a man faster than my nan’s Sunday roast burns your tongue. Fast-forward to today, and the beast from San Luis Potosí is still there, just wearing a few more battle scars. The crowd’s louder now, the cage is packed tighter, but the essence hasn’t changed. Brandon’s still that quiet guy who slips into battle with the confidence of a man who’s already done the math ten times over. The current squad fights different, sure—more firepower, more setups—but the hunger’s identical. It’s not about who’s better or worse; it’s that the flame never flickers. Back then we roared in a dorm room. Now we roar in an arena. Same beast, just a bigger stage.

That Kadish knee though—everyone’s acting like they predicted it. Bullshit. I was mid-sentence with my mates when the replay cut in, and half the room spilled beer because we all jumped up screaming. You lot act like it was scripted; that knee came out of nowhere like a street mugger, no warning, no setup. Kadish sold out for the takedown, left his temple hanging like a ripe fruit—and Brandon? He just plucked it. Classic Kadish—always trying to bully smaller guys into oblivion. Next thing we know, Brandon’s rising with that grin like he’d just nicked his nan’s last tamale. Uncle_Since86’s got the math right—Brandon’s still the same quiet dog with the killer instinct. But let’s be real: that flying knee wasn’t some miracle of science. It was Kadish’s ego leaving his guard open like a tourist in a market.

That 2020 dorm-room night I was mainlining instant noodles straight from the pot like a man possessed, phone in greasy paw, Kadish vs Moreno on at full volume, and halfway through the first round my flatmate Davey shouts "oi where's me chair?" — turns out he'd been perched on it like a meerkat since the weigh-ins, now it's three legs in and his arse's on the floor. Meanwhile that flying knee hits Kadish’s temple and suddenly the whole flat’s a mosh pit of broken furniture and Davey still hasn’t stopped moaning about the chair while screaming "IT'S GOING DOWN! IT'S GOING DOWN!" louder than the ref. still got the dent in the ceiling where my mate Chuck launched a flying roll of sellotape mid-KO; we call it the Tape Tornado memorial. moral of the story: Kadish didn’t just lose that night, he lost the room — and the ceiling. 🤣🍿