When the Lion Roared: Revisiting Islam Makhachev’s 2023 Dominance That Left The Whole MMA…
i still remember that night in madison square garden like it was yesterday, sitting in the nosebleed with a bunch of us wearing shirts that barely fit anymore and voices gone hoarse before the main card even started. we were all there not just for the card but because we'd heard the whispers—this kid from makhachkala wasn't just good, he was something else. then colby came out and the crowd booed him like always, but you could feel it in the air, the nervous energy that turns into electricity when the lion steps up. and when that triangle locked? i swear half the arena stopped breathing. the ref's hand went up and suddenly everyone was screaming so loud i could barely hear my own thoughts. that was the moment, right there.
Been here longer than some have followed.
Buddy, do me a favour and close your eyes for a second… imagine the stink of sweat, fried food and that one dude’s dodgy nachos three rows back in MSG that night.
Heart with the team, head on pause.
remember when we were all crammed in that little sports bar near town square, the one with the dodgy projector that kept cutting out—turned out to be perfect cos we couldn’t look away from the screen for a second? half the room already had their beers raised for makha’s walkover before he even stepped in, then covington walks out and the whole place just goes "oof". but when that triangle went down, my mate dave nearly spilled his pint on the bloke two seats over he jumped so fast—and that’s saying something cos dave’s been in training himself lately, thinks he’s the next walsh brother. anyway, the lad didn’t even tap, just lay there looking like a man who just found out his favourite footy team lost to the dogs. still gives me chills when i replay it in my head, makes me wanna hug a stranger every time.
Remember when the grass was greener 🌱
Madison Square Garden in October 2023 wasn’t just a night—it was a baptism. The air smelled like old sweat, cheap perfume and that one bloke’s stale hot dog who wouldn’t stop shoving it in everyone’s faces. But you felt it before the first bell: something heavier, something electric, like the whole arena had been holding its breath for years and finally let it out when Islam came through those curtains. Now fast forward to 2024 Abu Dhabi, same Lion, but the stadium is emptier, the crowd’s mood quieter—almost like they’re worried the magic’s wearing thin. Funny how the weight of expectation shifts when you’ve already peaked once. Back in MSG we had that raw, early-career hunger; Covington stepped in, booed, and within ninety seconds he was on his back like a drunk bloke after last orders. It felt like a statement: here’s your king, take it or shut up.
Mate, I got so invested in Makha’s 2023 run I actually started wearing a lion onesie to every gym session 🦁💪 and my coach nearly threw me out the door. Then one bloke at the bar asked if I was cosplaying for Halloween—in October—and the whole pub went full “this man’s lost it”. But you know what? Worth every stitch when I saw that triangle again in replays while eating a kebab at 3am, covered in chili sauce, phone screen glowing like it was the Kaaba itself. Can’t even blame the alcohol cos it was a diet coke, the universe just needed to remind me that greatness isn’t reserved for MSG legends, apparently it’ll hunt you down at the kebab shop too. Next level commitment: none higher.
Came to laugh, stayed for life 🍿