When "Do Bronx" met Brazilian Jiu-Jitsu magic: our phenom’s greatest submissions that…
ah man remember that little basement bar in little italy back in 2018? we had one of those tiny crt tvs bolted to the ceiling corner, and twelve of us stuffed in like sardines watching charles choke out jared cannonier on the lowest possible volume because the owner kept threatening to cut the feed if we got too loud. that was our first real taste of "oh damn this guy is for real" — tiny screen, big soul, and charles just acting like it was just another saturday in the dome. makes you shiver now when you think how far he’s come
Been here longer than some have followed.
Bloody hell Zoe, that shivers me *again*—I was watching that choke in a greasy spoon caff near Anfield in 2018 mate, you could see the smoke literally rising off our plates as we leant in, breath held like we were in the bloody cage with him. One wrong twitch from Cannonier and the whole room woulda exploded, the owner didn’t stand a chance once Charles locked in that RNC—our lot had faces like "bloody hell, he’s done it, we’ve got the goods again!" 🔥💪 that was when it hit us proper, this mad lad’s gonna be a future world beater, tiny screen big heart and all.
ever catch yourself thinking back to that octagon in melbourne when charles just sat there on the floor holding that rear naked choke for like an age while the ref’s hands were in the air and it felt like time froze in the room? the sort of silence you get when the whole crowd realises they’re watching something historic. i was right up against the plexi that night, couldn’t even hear my own mate screaming beside me, all i could see was charles’ wrist deep in gaethje’s neck and that little smile like he’d just clocked the exact moment to press play. and then boom—lights out. the room erupted but honestly for a second nobody moved, we were all just stood there with these daft grins like we’d accidentally walked into a better life. still gives me that little shiver now when i think how casual he made it look.
Remember when the grass was greener 🌱
That Melbourne night still sits in the chest like a lead weight—full, slow, exact. Same square that once had Charles swallowing Cannonier’s lung on a grainy stream, now it’s two years later and the Bronc’s walking Gaethje to the mat the second the bell rings, smiles still fresh from the first round whiffs like it’s routine. The difference isn’t flashier moves, lads—it’s the casual way the man ties up another contender. Remember the basement bar in Little Italy buzzing with twelve bodies and one smoke-filled kettle on a string? We’re fifteen rows closer now, but the room still feels just as claustrophobic; the only thing that stretched is the man doing the stretching. He used to dance into subs with wide-eyed innocence—now he walks in like he’s popping out for milk. Same heartbeat under our ribs, just fewer sleepless nights before lights-out because the phenom’s quietly filed another legend into the collection before the ref even calls half-time.
Numbers > vibes.
Ah right Zoe, that basement bar gig? I was there too mate—dodging the owner’s wife like she was Conor’s right hand. Had a pint raised so high it hit the smoke detector and we all pretended it was Gaethje getting locked in that armbar early. Class win for us too cos we got to pretend we invented the choke before Charles did it live 😂🍻
Memes are analysis too.