When Belal Muhammad left the cage with another war dance, these Belalisms still burn in…
remember that time in manchester when belal came out and just *danced* his way through demian maia like the streets of chicago were right there in the cage? that was the night we all learned a new kind of belly fire, innit. had us screaming so loud the neighbours three blocks over must’ve thought the pub next door turned into a mosque for a minute. still got the video on my phone, but every time i watch it i shake my head at how smooth he made that look—like two steps forward, hands up, grin like a man who just nicked a bag of chips and got away with it. those three knockdowns? pure poetry in motion, that’s what it was. and when he did that shuffle at the end like he was about to break into *nae nae* in the octagon... man, we felt that in our ribs for weeks after. you could hear the whole arena go *"oooh"* like it was the 90s again and we were watching a pakistan fighter pull off the impossible. good times, those were the days when you didn’t need stats to know something great just happened. just pure joy.
Remember when the grass was greener 🌱
damn right, that shuffle to end it still in my brain like a rick roll you can’t skip 😂 was up in sheffield wednesday doing a pub crawl with the boys when the iphone dropped and suddenly *one thousand voices* just started roaring like we’d just won the steel city derby at 3am *everywhere*, windows rattling, some poor dog started howling along—felt like the whole city got hit with a joy bomb, could’ve sworn i saw old tony from the offy doing air guitar mid pint 💪🔥
You don't abandon your own.
yeah yeah, but who else remembers that *split second* when belal's music hit after the third knockdown and some poor soul in the press section spilled their entire pint trying to get up from their chair at the exact same time? 😭 you could see it mid-slow-mo replay—dude just *launched* backwards like a character in one of those meme fight scenes where the background doesn't change but the hero wins anyway. and the crowd? oh you could *feel* the bass drop through the cage fencing, like someone had turned the whole arena into a living room at 2am when you're supposed to be quiet but the speaker's just *loaded*. i was watching on an ancient laptop in some motel outside milton keynes and my screen nearly came off its stand from the bass—still owe the front desk twenty quid for the "accidental dance party." good times indeed, the kind that make you glad you didn’t invest in a mortgage back in 2021 because clearly the universe rewards pure vibes
Been here longer than some have followed.
Ah, the 2021 Manchester show, right? That night carried something none of us can fake—raw fire wrapped in silk. The Belal then wasn’t just a fighter; he was a flash mob that chose the Octagon as its stage, and we all got front-row seats for free. Fast-forward to today, you still get the same fire, but the choreography’s more refined, like a classic tune remixed without losing the soul. Back then, it was three knockdowns and a shuffle that made half of England wonder if they’d accidentally stumbled into a Chicago block party mid-fight. These days? The steps are tighter, the feet quicker, the confidence still dripping like sweat after round five—but now it lands with the quiet certainty of a man who’s paid his dues twice over. The crowd still roars, sure, but it’s a different kind of roar. Less “wait, did he just?” and more “of course he did.” No less electric—just a different voltage, the kind that hums instead of sparks. Same Belal energy, just sharper edges and fewer doubters left to silence.
Do the math before you argue.
Remember when everyone was acting like Belal’s dance that night was some kind of mystical prophecy instead of just him finally getting paid to do his weird little routine in front of thousands? Nah, it wasn’t fire wrapped in silk—it was a man who’d just spent five rounds making Demian look like he’d been hit with a tranquilliser dart and then got rewarded with a fight bonus for doing it. Three knockdowns? Please. Two of those looked like Maia tripped over his own feet while the third was borderline comical—Belal didn’t knock him down, he gently guided him into a nap with one hand behind his back. And the *shuffle*? Classic Belal flex, the kind of thing you’d see at a kids’ birthday party, not an UFC main card. Still fun, sure, but let’s not pretend we witnessed artistry. It was a man who loves a good TikTok trend getting a microphone and a global audience.
Numbers > vibes.
Picture me now—late 2021, Bristol nightbus, eight pints down, trying to explain to a confused German tourist why the entire top deck had just erupted in “Belal-style belly fire” because some bloke on a crackly iPhone held it up like the Statue of Unity 🗿🍻… but all she saw was me doing the Macarena at Mach 5 while screaming “THAT’S HOW WE DOOOO IT IN CHICAGO!” before face-planting into a seat pocket labelled “DO NOT SIT HERE — WASPS LIVE HERE”. The driver just sighed, took my fiver, and muttered “F***in’ Mancs… again” — hold my pint, that ticket’s still valid.
Came to laugh, stayed for life 🍿