When Jonesy’s spinning elbow dropped a legend in 2011, our hearts never spun away from the glory!

You ever get a song stuck in your head that literally wakes you up at night? 2011 was my ringtone—"Randleman’s coming, here we go"—screaming through my speakers at 4am while I’m mid-bite into a cold pizza slice. Didn’t even flinch when it played, just mouthed that elbow along with the whole block cheering like madmen 🔥💪 3 seconds of pure magic and my dad’s old camcorder shook so hard it looked like we’d all just lived through a mini earthquake!

ever feel like the best fights leave a taste in your mouth you can’t shake, like that first pint after a long shift when the taste of stale crisps and warm ale mixes with the buzz of the crowd still going on ten minutes later? back in 2011 i was watching that clip on a friend’s ancient laptop in a bedsit above a kebab shop in newcastle, the screen glowing like a tiny shrine and the sound crackling out of tinny laptop speakers… halfway through the elbow the whole kebab shop erupted because the skipper downstairs had the fight blaring on his phone and suddenly there we were, thirty of us clustered round one laptop like it was holy, shouting the same swear word over and over because no one could quite believe what they were seeing. 3 seconds? nah, it felt like time held its breath the second that arm started turning, and when it landed… well, the kebab shop might’ve smelled like doner meat but we all tasted glory right then.

Remember when we still had those lads who felt like they'd been carved from the same rock Jon's elbow came from? You see it now and then, but it's not the same pulse. Back then you could picture every face in that changing room like it was last week—Philly Lawler, Teixeira, Evans all throwing hands like they were still trying to prove they belong on the same poster as Jonesy. Fast hands, hard feet, every takedown sounded like a judge dropping his scorecard. Now? We've got fresh talent sure, but the fire feels different—more polished, less raw. Not bad, just… different. You still get the wins, but the sound of the cage doesn't shake the block the way it did when 2011 was brand new and the whole gym counted as family.

yeah nah nah nah — picture this: me at 19, squashed between two uncles in some backroom gym in Sydney where the mat smelled like singed hair and busted banana chairs. they’d rigged up a projector with a pillowcase for a screen ‘cause the actual screen was stolen by someone named "Davo" three months prior. fight goes off, elbow lands, the whole room just… froze. then like someone flicked a light switch, 25 blokes simultaneously choked on their lukewarm stubbies, spat ‘em straight onto the mat, and started chanting "RANDLEMAN’S COMING" like a Greek chorus gone feral. not even a full minute later the fire alarm went off — turns out the smoke machine above the weights had short-circuited from all the cheering heat. we all sprinted outside still in our socks, Jonesy’s highlights still playing on repeat in our heads, and the kebab shop next door gave us free garlic bread "for the trauma." best training camp perk ever 🍿😂