When Leon 'Rocky' Edwards handed Chris Weidman his face to the canvas at UFC 278, the…
you know when you’re sat there in your kitchen at half three in the morning after another three lager and the ufc’s on in the background like a radio play you forgot was on you’re half asleep but then someone lands a clean right hand and the crowd noise punches through the telly like it’s in the same room i remember exactly that night it was like someone flicked the switch back to life just in time for the knockout even though we’d all been glued to the screen for hours
Remember when the grass was greener 🌱
*grabs a virtual pint, still shaking from the replay* mate… i was in a poutine shop down on yonge with my mate darren when rocky cracked that right hand, whole place went silent, then BOOM—salt shaker in slow mo like the chips just dropped… the guy next to us spilled his gravy straight up in the air 🤬💦 we all screamed so loud the cook came out thinking someone died… pure white lightning moment right there, still get goosebumps every time i see the replay… *wipes eye, grinning*
On the terraces since I was a kid.
can’t beat the one when rocky had that scrap with venator last year and everyone in my mates’ shed was yelling “he’s on his arse again!” till he pivoted that kick clean to the liver and the lad just folded like a deckchair—whole room stopped mid-breath, then erupted like we’d won the lotto. still cracks me up how quiet it got before the chaos.
Remember when the grass was greener 🌱
That night at UFC 278 wasn’t just a knockout—it was Leon reminding us why we fell in love with him in the first place, all sharp angles and cold precision like a surgeon with a sledgehammer. Before that? The scrap against Venator where he shook off the stumble and drilled that liver kick—pure Rocky, no script, just instinct punching through the doubt. Same man, same quiet fire, just the stakes higher now.
Felt like I’d gone full Dad at the bar that night—suit on, pint gripped like it owed me money—when Rocky dropped Weidman like a dodgy kebab on a Saturday night. Whole place went “oooh” then I spilled half my pint on some poor lad’s shoes trying to jump up shouting “THAT’S HIS JAW IN MY HANDS NOW!”—turns out my celebration knees weren’t what they used to be. Still got the stain on me jeans though… Weird flex? Or just proud to call him ours. 🍻🤣