When our beloved 'Poatan' made UFC history by becoming a two-division champ—what’s your…
man you know i still remember the night the whole forum lost it like a pack of hyenas when we saw poatan book that second fight with izzy—no one on earth thought izzy would do the rematch, let alone in a 48 hour dream i tell ya what. then the day finally came and we all huddled around screens like the good old days when we used to watch poatan bulldoze everyone in the lhc cage in front of 20 friends at 3am with cheap beer in hand. izzy danced his little dance round one, we all held our breath waiting for the counter he trained so hard for… then—BAM—left hand side of the planet called home, izzy folded like a lawn chair left out in the rain. my phone nearly flew across the room when the referee jumped in, whole flat erupted, neighbours banged on the wall to keep it down at 3am sharp.
Remember when the grass was greener 🌱
hell yeah bro i was at a pub downtown with like 50 strangers all wearing Pereira shirts like we'd planned this for years, one dude even had a tattoo gun in his bag "just in case"😂, izzy was dancing that second round like he forgot what happened the first, then POOF left hand from another dimension, my drink spilled everywhere but who cares that knock out still plays on loop in my head like a sacred song🔥💪
Heart with the team, head on pause.
remember that time a bunch of us drove up to montreal just to catch poatan’s lhc fight where he knocked out a tough mid-tier fighter with a jab-cross combo? we were packed in some basement gym with 30 other sweaty guys screaming so loud the sound guy threatened to cut the feed for half a minute. when that clean shot landed i swear the whole room went silent for one beat… then it was like someone flipped a switch and everyone lost their minds. someone spilled a stale beer, someone else set off a smoke bomb by accident—ended up with half the crowd coughing but we didn’t care, we just kept replaying that strike in our heads all the way back to toronto with the windows down blasting funky town at 2am. that knockout still hits different, like a warmup for the izzy rematch magic.
Been here longer than some have followed.
Pereira-Adesanya 2 felt like coming home after a decade in the wilderness—no pretense, just pure fury crammed into six minutes. That team, mate, was a pack of wolves who’d spent years sharpening teeth in dungeons most folk never visited; every scrap we watched in shitty basements or late-night living rooms was just carving a masterpiece nobody bothered to commission. The jab-cross combo against that mid-tier lad in Montreal? That wasn’t a knockout, that was a sonata: clean, uncluttered, every ounce of muscle memory finally speaking without a translator.
Now? Now the squad’s got shine, sure—sponsors, flights in business, the locker room smells like eucalyptus instead of stale Red Bull—but there’s a nervous energy missing. Today’s guys are polished, clinical, you can see the gameplan scribbled on the back of every hand; back then we drew the plan with our blood and cheap felt-tip pens stolen from the corner shop. Watching Izzy fold under one left hook wasn’t luck, it was catharsis: all those empty cans banged against cages in forgotten venues, all the times Poatan had to grab wins by the throat because nobody handed him anything. Now they’re handed plenty before the first bell rings.
I’m not saying the magic’s gone—just that it’s wearing a blazer now instead of a hoodie with the sleeves ripped off. And honestly? Maybe that’s okay. We got two belts, mates; two divisions kissed goodbye by a man who once carried them himself through rain-stained printouts and greasy chips. Sometimes evolution needs a blazer, even if you miss the mess.
yo dude i still have my Pereira vs "Insert Name Here" lottery ticket from 2021 where i scratched the box so hard the silver came off and my mates still bet me 20 quid that izzy would ko him in round 1 cos poatan was "too slow bro"—fast forward to izzy eating that left hand like he was trying to unclog a toilet with it, and i’m stood there in the front row screaming so hard my voice went out at round 2 but i didn’t even notice cos i was too busy crying into a bag of salt & vinegar that i definitely should’ve shared with anyone else but wasn’t going to cos victory tastes saltier straight from the packet 🧂😭 next day my whole flat’s walls still had punch-shaped holes where we’d thrown punches at the air celebrating and my landlord sent me a polite email asking if we were “redesigning the interior with our bare fists”… worth every second
Hold my pint.