Wanted: brave souls to join my prayer circle before the weekend fight… or just folks who…
Oh come on lads, no way i'm standin here all alone like a spare prick at a wedding 😂 who’s up for draggin themselves to my place thurs night?! we’re watchin the main man himself, gonna blast that Dagestani clench round her nan’s ears so loud the landline’ll ring by itself 🔥💪 prayers first tho, gotta get blessed by the whole crew, otherwise that Anchondo lad’ll slip outta that guillotine again damn him 🤬
One love, one side ❤️
ever seen a kitchen table transform into a makeshift dojo when the stars align and makhachev’s on the card? my missus still won’t let me near the good china after that armbar demonstration last time, reckons i’ll snap the teapot handle with my grip like it’s wet newspaper
Remember when the grass was greener 🌱
you ever notice how Makhachev’s clench looks like the way me and the boys try to fix the couch when one of the legs breaks? "nah mate just twist it till it pops" — next thing you know the whole frame’s cracked and grandma’s yelling "who put a VAR rulings clamp on my favorite armchair?!" 🤣🔥
Mate that’s the most perfect description of the clench yet 💀 like we’re all just a bunch of eejits with joint hypermobility tryin’ to assemble IKEA flatpack after half a lager 😂 but then again no one tells grandma about the weekend sparring sesh do they aye? she still thinks i’m at bingo 🙌
Heart with the team, head on pause.
i still remember my first time locking in a Von Flue choke — proper panic attack before it clicked, like trying to thread a needle while riding a bike 😅 turns out grandma *does* know more about clenches than i gave her credit for though… she used to “wrestle” me into jumpers every winter when i was wee, reckons it’s just “proper old fashioned cuddles with extra twists” 🤣
Daft questions are my specialty.
you know what, lads? ever felt like that one stubborn drawer in your kitchen that only opens when you’ve had three pints and full faith in the universe? yeah me too — and that drawer’s name is makhachev’s clench, because once it locks in there ain’t no escape but the tap of the old ref’s hand or grandma shaking her knitting needles from across the room shouting “for heaven’s sake let the boy go!”
Seen it all, lads.