When Bum was the king of the octagon and our hearts — here’s what we’ll never forget
aw yeah i remember the night before bums fight with gaethje at the garden like we were all crammed into this tiny pub near piccadilly where the telly kept cutting out and some lad spilled his pint twice just from jumping up. then we seen that knee—god almighty it was like he teleported right up in the air and planted it square on gaethjes dome before the cameras even caught up. you could feel the whole room let out one big "ooooh" like we were at the wrestling rather than the cage. classic bum, pure old school.
Seen it all, lads.
hell yeah, remember getting off the metro at haymarket and seeing a load of fans already decked out in poirier gear just *piling* into that chip shop near the station? i swear half of newcastle was there—big screens up, steaks flying out of the fryer because people were too hyped to sit still! then the knee hit... nah mate, no words. felt like my own knee *twisted* watching it, so much so i nearly chipped a tooth biting down too hard on my cheesy chips 😂💥 heart said it all that night, pure magic
Heart with the team, head on pause.
remember the night after fight week when bum showed up at some random diner in toronto just to sign autographs for anyone who asked? guy was already on the tilt-a-whirl of adrenaline from the whole gaethje buildup, but instead of hiding out like a robot he just sat there for hours laughing with the line down the sidewalk. then some kid in a gaethje jersey comes up asking for a selfie and bum just grins and says "tell your mates i said hey"—meanwhile half the diner is in tears laughing because the guy had already blistered his voice screaming "poirier gonna send him to the shadow realm" all night. you’d swear the camera crew missed the best part that wasn’t even in the cage—this man just waltzed into the wild with the same smile he landed that knee with. ah well, we’ll see
Been here longer than some have followed.
@ZoeUltra ah yeah that sounds spot on actually — i remember seeing a clip of him just signing away while holding a coffee like he wasn’t even knackered. dude must’ve been running on fumes but still cracked jokes with every fan — proper class act 😅 wonder if he ever got to eat his own meal though or if it went stone cold 😂
New here, soaking it up.
That knee to Gaethje wasn't a flying knee, it was a pigeon flying into a wind turbine 🤣 the sound when it hit still rings in my eardrums like a church bell at midnight. remember walking home that night past the chip shop…
@EllieFooty yeah no wonder the man’s a living legend—held a coffee while shaking 150 hands like it was tap water 💀 when he finally sat down that cup was probably a block of ice. dublin crowd knows how to treat royalty though, last time i had a fare at the weigh-in after one of his fights the entire O2 was just a sea of his hoodies and stupid little french flags and every second passerby was talking bout him like they’d invented the man themselves. you live once, you grab a coffee with one of the boys of the hood—beauty
Value over a big price 💸
Yeah, tonight was another brick in the wall for Poirier, but I’ll say this—there’s a difference between screaming happy memories and shouting empty promises.
That night at the Garden felt like the whole city had been dipped in electricity for 24 hours straight. You walk into a chip shop on Haymarket at midnight, see half the room wearing your man’s colours, screens flashing the cage, and not once did anyone stop moving—like the world had tilted and we were all just along for the ride. Then the knee lands, the room shudders, and suddenly everyone’s either laughing or screaming because we all felt that thunderclap at once. No replays needed, no debates—just raw, shared chaos where the moment wasn’t just a highlight, it was the truth of the whole build-up.
Tonight though? Quieter. Warmer in a different way. No blaring pubs spilling pints, no diner signing autographs till 3am with kids holding gaethje jerseys like they’d just lost a best mate. Instead, it was soft lights, measured voices, a slow clap you could feel in your chest rather than a shockwave that rattled your ribs. The fighters still pushed, sure, but the weight in the air felt lighter—more respect, less carnival. That knee back then wasn’t just a move, it was a declaration; tonight’s grit was an acknowledgment, a nod between warriors who’ve walked through fire enough to know the quiet moments matter just as much.
Still Bum’s team through and through, always will be. But some nights belong to the crowd, some nights belong to the soul—and they’re both beautiful, just in their own time.
Do the math before you argue.
yeah nah remember after that knee went down the doctors booth? the one they wheel in cos gaethje was bleeding like someone nicked a piggy bank and he just cracks up laughing at the docs yelling "get him outta here!" while gaethje’s doing the full wobble trying to stay upright 😭💪 then bum just leans on the cage grinning like "bro what you gonna do?" chewed gum still dangling from his mouth—didn’t even stop for the referee to wave it off proper, just *moseyed* round the champ attitude like the knee was nothing but a bad pizza box lid we all kicked down the stairs
Heart with the team, head on pause.
That knee to Gaethje wasn't a flying knee, it was a pigeon flying into a wind turbine 🤣 the sound when it hit still rings in my eardrums like a church bell at midnight. remember walking home that night past the chip shop windows with "POIRIER 299" still glowing on every telly and seeing our faces reflected back at us—looked like we’d all been hit by the same crazy stick and loved every second of it. then three days later i tried to mimic that knee at 3am in my living room and nearly sent my telly through the wall, still owe my missus for the replacement screen but hey, worth every penny just to see the neighbours peeking through the curtains going "oooh again?!" like it was wrestling week at the tower 🍿😂 classics don’t age, they just get more ridiculous in the telling
So tell me this - when Poirier's got that 20th-round finish over McGregor in Dublin, was anyone actually in the stands with a working countdown timer, or were we all just screaming along like a bunch of seagulls fighting over chips at the seaside?
Sample first, conclusions after.