CARL'S FIGHT BREAKDOWNS, EPISODE 41: KING NOTHING

UFC 282: Błachowicz vs Ankalaev

PRELIMS 2:30 PM PST/5:30 PM EST VIA ESPN+ | MAIN CARD 7 PM PST/10 PM EST VIA PAY-PER-VIEW

I'm not going to lie to you: I'm a bit bummed out. Teixeira/Procházka was one of the most philosophically interesting fights of the year for me and turned out to be one of the most exciting fights of all time, and as much as I dislike instant rematches for fights with definitive endings, I was excited for the runback. Losing that main event is unfortunate. Giving Paddy Pimblett a co-main event is unfortunate. Inexplicably screwing Glover Teixeira out of a championship match is unfortunate. Scratching Robbie Lawler and Ovince Saint Preux at the last minute are...well, I can't say unfortunate, exactly, I like living in a world where 2022 doesn't end with Lawler getting unnecessarily lamped again, but boy, it does give us even less to talk about. But we're here, and this is still a good card, and by god, we're going to put our hip waders on and figure it out.

MAIN EVENT: THE WAR OF ASHES
LIGHT-HEAVYWEIGHT CHAMPIONSHIP: Jan Błachowicz (29-9, #2) vs Magomed Ankalaev (18-1, #3)

Boy, things sure change fast in this sport.

Jan Błachowicz's place in UFC history is apparently destined to be just fucking weird. When he made his organizational debut in 2014 it was as one of the top stars of Poland's KSW, having won their Light-Heavyweight Championship and twice defended it, with all three bouts coming against UFC veterans. Even then, the asterisks began: Because he'd failed in his first attempt to capture the belt, having had his leg kicked in twain by the fighter he'd later take the title from in his second crack at it, Rameau Thierry Sokoudjou, a man who somehow alternated for his entire career between being an unbelievably scary striker and one of the worst underperformers in the sport.

But Jan was a no-brainer of a pickup for the UFC. Well-rounded, hard-hitting, champion in one of the most well-regarded international promotions, had only lost one fight since his rookie year. His title contention seemed inevitable.

And then he came a hair's breadth away from getting fired. Twice!

In the first three years of Jan's UFC tenure, he went 2-4. He knocked out professional fire hydrant impersonator Ilir Latifi in his debut, but immediately got outfought by Jimi Manuwa and Corey Anderson; defeated Igor Pokrajac, only to get turned away by Alexander Gustafsson and, most shamefully, Patrick Cummins. After coming in with all the hype in the world, Jan seemed like a bust. Which may sound harsh, but you have to remember that, contextually, this was all happening over the decade-long drama that was the Jon Jones/Daniel Cormier death grip on the 205-pound title picture. If you didn't look like you had anything to offer the two most untouchable fighters in the division's history, the world got disinterested in you very, very quickly.

But then he turned it all around! Jan Błachowicz, 2017's most-likely-to-be-pink-slipped light-heavyweight, snapped off a four-fight win streak in just twelve months, defeating the still-terrifying Jared Cannonier and avenging his loss to Jimi Manuwa in the process. When he beat Russian champion Nikita Krylov, the conversation had changed entirely. Błachowicz was back, baby, and this time nothing was going to stop him.

Except, uh, Thiago Santos. Thiago Santos was going to stop him. Thiago Santos, who just ten months earlier had been getting knocked out at middleweight, moved up to a division 20 pounds heavier, knocked out two of its toughest guys, fought the potential #1 contender in the Polish powerhouse and obliterated him in the third round. All of Jan's momentum was gone, all over again. But he was going to get it back, and quickly.

Thanks to more middleweights.

Thiago's success, mixed with Jones and Cormier's runs through the division and multiple ill-timed retirements, had left a gaping hole at 205 pounds that was being filled by middleweights who didn't want to sit in the back of the sauna anymore. And by god, Jan Błachowicz was going to fight damned near all of them. Luke Rockhold was the first--which was met with skepticism by many, being as Rockhold had just gotten knocked out twice by other actual middleweights, and sure enough, Jan notched his first UFC knockout in five years by flooring him. Then it was Jacare Souza's turn, and Jan barely scraped out a split decision. Suddenly, he was back in position for contendership, and suddenly, his once-vaunted knockout power found its way back into his arsenal. He rematched Corey Anderson, the man who'd dominated him a half-decade earlier, and knocked him cold in three minutes. He met Dominick Reyes, the man who'd taken the once-again-fleeing-the-sport Jon Jones the distance and, most non-judges thought, beaten him, and took him out in two rounds.

At last, after a winding, seven-year journey, Jan Błachowicz was the world champion. He'd had to go through the entire division the long way to get there, but by god, he was the king of the mountain, and he was ready to stop fucking around with middleweights and fight all the best challengers the light-heavyweight division had to offer.

So it was a bummer when his first and only title defense was middleweight champion Israel Adesanya. He beat him, which was cool, but the virtual entirety of the attention for the bout was on Adesanya, to the point that people were more disappointed he lost than impressed Jan had won. And then one fight later Glover Teixeira crushed and choked the belt right off him, and the dream was over. He tried to mount a professional comeback this past May by fighting top contender (which the UFC deeply loathed, considering him incredibly boring) Aleksandar Rakić, and even that wound up doing almost nothing for him--Rakić's knee gave out abruptly in the third round, ending the fight on an anticlimactic injury.

And now, Jan's getting the thing he most wanted--a chance to be the champion of the world one more time--and it's in a title fight everyone considers deeply disappointing. He didn't even know about it when it got booked. He found out he was fighting for the championship when he got off a plane and turned his phone on to a thousand texts and voicemails from his manager.

Which is deeply unfair, because for the second time in a row Jan is facing the rightful top contender in the division. Magomed Ankalaev has exactly one loss in the UFC, and it was a debut fight wherein he, like so many before and since, dominated and repeatedly hurt Paul "Bearjew" Craig only to inexplicably jump into a triangle choke and lose by submission with mere seconds left. It was a big, silly mistake, the kind born of the jitters almost every fighter feels when they first make the pilgrimage to the UFC and suddenly have to figure out how to adjust to the bright lights.

Ankalaev adjusted to them in the best way possible: He never lost again.

While his background was in Greco-Roman Wrestling, Ankalaev's hype came from his striking, and he quickly returned to his roots as much for marketability as to avoid being stuck in anyone's fucking guard again unless he wanted to be. He started headkicking people. Violently. He faced a Marcin Prachnio who'd just permanently shamed his ancestors by losing to Sam Alvey and entrenched his failure by putting a foot upside his face. He took on UFC rookie Dalcha Lungiambula, ground-and-pounded him for two straight rounds, and put an exclamation point on it with an Anderson Silva front kick knockout. He fought Ion Cuțelaba and headkicked him in half a minute for an easy win, and then, uh.

Well, then things got messed up. No matter how regular your story is, no one gets out of the light-heavyweight division unscathed by some form of bullshit. Ion Cuțelaba cried early stoppage, and unlike the vast, vast majority of complaints, he actually had a case. He hadn't been dropped, his wobbling had visibly been played up to open up counterattacks, he was blocking incoming attacks on his forearms and he was actively firing back with punches when the referee jumped in. A near-frenzy ensued as Cuțelaba jumped around the cage screaming at the referee, the cornermen and anyone who would listen, and an instant rematch was ordered to ford off the controversy.

And then COVID happened. And suddenly, the rematch took the entirety of 2020 to surface. And when it did, having forced one of the top contenders in the division to lose a year and freeze up the contendership conversation altogether, it was the same exact result--a first-round knockout victory for Magomed Ankalaev--it just took four minutes this time. But it was done, and the light-heavyweight knockout machine was ready to resume his path to the championship.

Which he did. Uneventfully. Having made his career on powerful striking and high-level grappling, Ankalaev won his next three fights--bouts with Nikita Krylov, Volkan Oezdemir and Thiago Santos--by deeply, deeply uneventful decisions. So when the UFC had to decide between giving a title shot to Magomed Ankalaev, who had dared to fight to decisions to protect his position or Jiří Procházka, who had only been in the company for two fights and had nearly gotten knocked out both times but produced highlight-reel finishes, well, god dammit, you know what business we're in.

But Ankalaev punched out Anthony Smith in his last fight, so, hey, why not. What could it hurt? It's not Jiří's going to explode his shoulder and disappear forever and force us into a deeply uncomfortable position where we have to crown a new champion on two weeks' notice.

So let's talk about the elephant in the room: Why on Earth is Glover Teixeira, who was in the main event and is uninjured, not in this fight? As Glover tells it, he was perfectly fine slotting into the main event if it was a rematch with Jan--they'd fought before, he was familiar, Glover would take him on gladly--but Ankalaev was a different beast, and he wanted that potential bout pushed back to UFC Rio in January so he had time to prepare.

The UFC staunchly refused. No one wants to see a rematch between you two, they told him, and Jan is too old anyway, so it's Ankalaev or nothing, which is a particularly bizarre thing to say when your openly-stated Plan B still involves Jan fighting for the title. The UFC wanted Teixeira to blink and step in against Ankalaev and would accept no alternative, and when Teixeira held his ground, the UFC booted him off the card altogether.

So instead of a pay-per-view headlined by the rematch of one of last year's biggest upsets, featuring a guy who was champion just six months ago and had one of the best title fights in company history, we have this co-main event which is now for a belt.

I know running an MMA company is incredibly complicated, but sometimes the choices made just genuinely baffle me. But by god, here we are, and we have what we have. Who's walking away with a world championship?

Let's just say it bluntly: Jan hasn't looked great in his last two fights. Teixeira mauled him on the ground in their championship fight, and while Jan won the first round of his fight with Aleksandar Rakić, he was getting grounded and controlled again in the second and looked like a very long few rounds were coming down the pipe. Ankalaev is more than enough wrestler to give Jan exactly those same troubles, and he's also a dangerous striker who's very difficult to hurt.

Jan's going to have to either rattle him with power punches and leg kicks early or settle into a pattern of sticking and moving, because Ankalaev can absolutely walk him down behind his kicks and drag him to the canvas once he's against the fence. And what he lacks in Teixeira's top game and submission offense, he makes up for in gas tank. He can out-grapple him all night, and unfortunately for Jan, he probably will. Magomed Ankalaev by decision.

CO-MAIN EVENT: THE LAST CHANCE TO RUIN DANA'S YEAR

LIGHTWEIGHT: Paddy Pimblett (19-3) vs Jared Gordon (19-5)

I really thought I wouldn't have to do a Paddy Pimblett co-main writeup until sometime midway through next year, but providence chooses, I guess.

It's Paddy Pimblett time, and may we all be damned. The UFC has set their marketing giant up very, very well, and honestly, the infuriating part about him isn't that they've done it--it's actually cool and good to effectively utilize and market your fighters--it's that they're so fucking choosy about who does and doesn't get that treatment and the choices are always so very Dana White-specific. You could throw millions of marketing dollars behind an Ilia Topuria or a Shavkat Rakhmonov or an Erin Blanchfield, and all would be fantastic future talents with very realistic title aspirations who could pay dividends for years to come.

But they don't want them. They want people with lanky arms and bad hair, and by god, no one is lankier or more pageboyed up than Paddy Pimblett. Or, as I put it the last time we saw him:

Padbert Pamplemousse is the latest and inexplicably most successful attempt by the UFC to desperately make a new Conor McGregor, which is to say taking an international fighter with a pre-existing fanbase, giving them some favorable matchmaking, marketing them to the point of absurdity and then waving their hands and saying "It's just something about him! Padtrick Plumbrog just has that x-factor that makes people care! You can't teach it!" while quietly burying millions of dollars in advertising under the rounding errors in the accounting books that pay for Dana White's exotic skull collection.

And it has totally worked! Not just because the UFC can marketing engine the fuck out of people whenever they actually want to, but because for all of the many, many valid complaints around his booking, his antics and his impressive ability to get repeatedly banned from pre-Crisis Twitter, Paddy Pimblett is actually a decent fighter--and it's not so much about his skills as his ability to adjust on the fly. In each of his three UFC appearances thus far he's actually looked kind of lousy in the opening stretch: Luigi Vendramini was punching him clear across the cage, Rodrigo Vargas had him badly hurt within seconds, and Jordan Leavitt was slamming him and controlling him for the first round of their fight.

But once he got a feeling for what they were doing, he neutralized their advantages. He forced Vendramini into a close-range brawl, he suckered Vargas into the clinch where he could bully him to the ground, and he used the fence to frame up Leavitt so as to deny him space to effectively wrestle. He's a slow starter, but he's good at zeroing in on weaknesses in his opponents.

Which is why the UFC is easing him a little closer to the deep end of the pool. Vendramini, Vargas and Leavitt are all good fighters, but each fight was stylistically favorable for Paddy. Jared "Flash" Gordon is...well, still kind of stylistically favorable for Paddy, actually. But slightly less! A little!

Gordon's had a very difficult run of it in the UFC. He's a very good, very aggressive fighter with an extremely well-rounded game, but he's too ardent a follower of the wild aggression path of combat to gather much career stability. He may be 7-4 in the UFC, but three of those losses came from his choosing to press all-too-recklessly forward behind his strikes, abandoning the timing and technique that made him successful in favor of swinging away, and unfortunately, that's the biggest reason he has three knockout losses in the UFC and his only knockout win--his only stoppage win period--came from sticking to his wrestling and his ground and pound.

But it's that fourth loss that's most likely the reason we're here tonight. Gordon won his last fight against a retiring Leonardo Santos quite handily, but just before that he suffered the most thorough loss of his career after being soundly outwrestled, outgrappled and eventually submitted by Grant Dawson, who was just too big, too strong and too thoroughly technically gifted for Gordon. Once it was clear he couldn't stop the takedowns or the top game, there was nothing to do but wait for two and a half rounds of misery to end.

In other words: Jared Gordon is a very good fighter with very good skills but he likes to brawl too much for his own good and he has problems with bigger, stronger grapplers with bigger, stronger wrestling games.

Sure would be something if he fought a British submission stylist with half a foot of reach on him and knockout power to match, huh?

I would love for this to be the night Dana gets one of his Christmas presents taken away, but as much as I do enjoy Jared Gordon, I just don't see it working out well for him. Paddy can brawl with him and hit considerably harder in the process, Paddy's got a real solid chance of avoiding his takedown attempts thanks to his own throw game, Paddy's submission attacks are fast, tricky and very hard to ward off once he's on you, and additionally, if it at any point looks like Jared Gordon might actually win, the production team has been instructed to push the candy-red button that leaks knockout gas into the arena so no one sees them tranquilize Gordon and gently place him in a rear naked choke. Paddy Pimblett by submission.

MAIN CARD: WAITING TO SEE WHAT ELSE GETS REPLACED
CATCHWEIGHT, 180 LBS: Santiago Ponzinibbio (28-6) vs Alex Morono (22-7 (1))

Santiago Ponzinibbio has had a rough fucking time.

It is important to understand: Santiago Ponzinibbio was supposed to be the welterweight champion. He won The Ultimate Fighter Brazil 2, he beat odds-on favorite Leonardo Santos, and after taking a couple growing-pains losses during his first year and a half in the UFC he found his stride and began not just defeating but crushing top prospects at welterweight. By the end of 2018 he was #7 in the world, on a seven-fight winning streak, and had just flattened Neil Magny in the biggest fight of his career. He was big and scary and had laser-beam fists and the defensive wrestling to keep fights right where he wanted them, and the entire world saw his title contention as merely a matter of time.

Time does not like being taken for granted. Time got mad. Ponzinibbio injured his hand, and then he re-injured it after breaking it on Neil Magny's head, and then he injured his leg, and then his leg injury turned into a bacterial infection that nearly killed him. He was in the hospital for weeks, he spent three months with a catheter pumping antibiotics into his heart, and once he was finally allowed to return to training he experienced excruciating pain that turned out to be a fucking bone infection along with horrifying arthritis. He lost most of his muscle, took even more antibiotics and started from square one. He rebuilt his body, he resharpened his skills, and in 2021, after more than two years on the shelf, he made his grand return to mixed martial arts, vowing to pick up right where he left off.

He got knocked out in one round.

The comeback hasn't gone quite as expected. He managed a victory over rising prospect Miguel Baeza but dropped two split decisions, one to Geoff Neal's straightforward striking arsenal and one to Michel Pereira's eclectic, oddly-angled attacks. Santiago Ponzinibbio was 9-2 in the UFC before his various medical crises; since his return, he's 1-3. His opponent for this card was supposed to be former champion Robbie Lawler--a fight that was supposed to happen back in 2019 before his entire body imploded--ostensibly to give Ponzinibbio a high-profile bout, realistically to give him a stylistically favorable matchup against a fading star.

But nothing is going Ponzinibbio's way right now. So Lawler pulled out just four days before the event, and in his place rose Alex "The Great White" Morono.

Alex Morono is not a star. It's not his fault--he tries. He really does. He's been in the UFC for almost seven years, he's got sixteen fights under its banner and he's won the vast majority of them, and he tries his best to be memorable. He runs forward and swings hooks and haymakers and he does his damnedest to be a fun, marketable fighter. It just...doesn't work. He doesn't have the knockout power, he doesn't have the dangerous grappling, he barely even completes takedowns. He guts out his wins with grit and aggression and an extremely solid chin.

The only people who've made him falter are vastly superior strikers like Anthony Pettis, vastly superior grapplers like Keita Nakamura, and even more vicious brawlers like Jordan Mein and Niko Price. He carries the universal curse of the all-around fighter: He has trouble with specialists. Fighters who match his varied approach to fighting fall immediately into his trap; he suffocates them with voluhme and ferocity, and even though he rarely produces a knockout, he'll outland, outgrind and outlast them. When you throw him at a human missile launcher like Khaos Williams he's at risk of getting his head punched into the third row.

And I cannot help feeling like that analysis shortchanges him, because it begs the idea that we're not so much discussing how Alex Morono could win as how Santiago Ponzinibbio can lose. But, truthfully, that's barely about Morono himself. Everything about Santiago Ponzinibbio's career right now is a referendum on how much of his fighting abilit is still there. Ponzinibbio vs Lawler was signed specifically because both men have looked depleted and underwhelming, and their ability to compete at this higheust level of competition needed measuring.

Alex Morono jumping in with just a few days before the event only amplifies that feeling. People were already uncertain about Santiago's ability to handle a 40 year-old Robbie Lawler who hasn't won a fight against a currently active fighter since 2014. Can he deal with a new opponent, an entirely different style of opponent, who's very much in their prime?

Alex Morono by decision. I'm not happy about it. Ponzinibbio could spark Morono--he's got plenty of power and his hands are still very, very dangerous--but even on a full camp Morono is a tough stylistic test for him, an iron-jawed brawler who can and will outlast you. Making that adjustment after preparing for months to fight a patient, conventional striker is the worst-case scenario for this type of fight, especially given Ponzinibbio's trouble with pressure and high-paced fights. If Morono himself is in shape and not just rolling off the couch to take this fight for the money, he'll grind Ponzinibbio down over three rounds.

MIDDLEWEIGHT: Darren Till (18-4-1, #9) vs Dricus du Plessis (17-2, #13)

As a peek behind the curtain, I started this card's write-up on Saturday the 3rd. As of now, it's Monday and multiple fights have been shuffled on this card. This, thus far, isn't one of them. But by god, I'll be stunned if we get to fight night and it's still on the card.

Darren Till's position in the UFC has always been more smoke than fire. Dana had a personal, deep-seated love for Till thanks to his being a) British, b) a striker and c) undefeated, and that's resulted in a UFC career that can best be described as a series of facades that have never really been borne out by reality. The UFC pushed Till as a big, scary knockout artist and he proceeded to pull off exactly two stoppages during his going-on-eight-year time in the organization: One against a quickly-wearing-down Donald Cerrone, who belonged two whole weight classes below him, and one against the stiffest of competition, the Brazilian kickboxer Wendell "War Machine" Oliveira, who 15% of you are currently googling to see if I made up a person.

Yup, real guy. Crazy, huh?

The UFC did an incredible job hyping Till. He soared to a title eliminator after beating exactly one ranked opponent--the aforementioned Cerrone, who himself barely had a top ten win and was coming off two consecutive losses--and coasted to a title shot after taking one of the worst hometown decisions in MMA history against Stephen Thompson in a fight where Till blew the welterweight limit by five pounds. He barely had a credible victory, he could barely make weight, and there was so much marketing behind him that he still came in at even odds with Tyron Woodley, who'd held the welterweight championship for years. The UFC was just that certain that this was the guy, and he would lead them into the future as a fighter and a celebrity.

The pay-per-view was one of the worst-selling of the entire year. Woodley dropped Till on his ass and choked him out in two rounds. In the four years since that fight Till has pulled out of five fights, competed in four and gotten completely dumpstered in three. And the UFC still will not give up. When Till moved to the middleweight division on the back of his two-fight losing streak he was immediately put on track to contend for the title within two fights. Even now, having won only one bout in four years, the UFC touts him as a top ten middleweight in the world.

In other words: Try not to be shocked, but they would really prefer it if Dricus du Plessis were to lose.

And it's feasible. du Plessis's only been with the company for a couple years and he's had a Tillesque performance--not in his fighting as in his uncanny ability to have had five separate fights scratched in the time it's took him to only compete three times--and he's undefeated in that run, but not without struggle. Trevin Giles was bouncing punches through his guard and off his face, Markus Perez made it very difficult for du Plessis to find his range, and Brad Tavares, ever the brawler, became the first fighter to ever drag du Plessis to a decision.

But du Plessis, in the end, won all of those fights. He turned the corner on Perez, he punched out Giles, and he somehow turned his volume up even more as the Tavares fight wore on and drowned him in strikes. It's what put him on the UFC's radar in the first place and made him a champion in South Africa and Poland: Unless you stop him in his tracks, he will never stop trying to claw his way to a stoppage. He swings away until the bell rings and he jumps on chokes if he thinks there's even a slight chance he'll get them. He will make himself throw 100+ strikes after ten minutes of grueling fighting if that's what it will take.

Which is precisely why the UFC wants him against Till. I complained about the UFC pushing Darren Till for the things he's not, but that doesn't mean he's in any way devoid of talent. He IS a very good striker, but his talent is in interception. His best performances come from probing at a distance, forcing opponents to come to him and catching them with long punches over the top as they try to catch him. His drubbing at the hands of Woodley and Jorge Masvidal happened because he deviated from the plan: He charged Woodley and got dropped, he let Masvidal get into the phone booth and got destroyed.

Dricus du Plessis is the kind of fighter who will give him innumerable countering opportunities. du Plessis likes to spam leg kicks and toy with distance too, but it's always a setup for the blitz. Those blitzes are Till's opportunity to put a right hand down the pipe and make him pay, and he'll have dozens to work with. It's an eminently winnable fight for Darren Till and the UFC's best opportunity to keep Darren Till in the top ten for another two years.

So, uh. Dricus du Plessis by TKO. Sorry. I do not believe in Darren Till. If he couldn't keep up with Jorge Masvidal's pocket entries and punching power, du Plessis's probably going to fuck him up.

FEATHERWEIGHT: Bryce Mitchell (15-0, #9) vs Ilia Topuria (12-0, #14)

Hoo, boy. See, this is what I'm here for. Two or so years from now this could easily be a championship match and we just happen to be getting it ahead of time.

Bryce Mitchell's talents as a fighter are directly proportional to his idiocy, which is to say: Vast. And lest you think I am bringing this up just to complain about yet another fighter who's heavy into blood-red fringe Republicanism, COVID denialism and liberal-world-order conspiracy theory--astute, but for once, it's actually relevant to his fighting itself. Bryce Mitchell is so good at wrestling that it enables him to be better than he should be at everything that isn't wrestling, because the awareness that he can bring a fight to his comfort zone at any point lets him get creative and aggressive in areas he probably shouldn't. He came out to fight Edson Barboza, one of the most technically gifted strikers in combat sports history, by walking him down hands-first. And it worked. He dropped him just to prove that he could and then proceeded to wrestle him into paste.

But the thing is, that approach only works until it doesn't. Bryce Mitchell is the kind of idiot that finds ways to make it work to his advantage; he's also the kind of idiot who missed a half-year of competition by nearly destroying his own testicles after he left an active power drill inside his own pants.

Which makes Ilia Topuria the ball-crusher in this metaphor, I guess. Ilia Topuria is one of my favorite prospects of the last few years: An all-power all-the-time wrestleboxer who constantly flirts with danger by putting himself in unnecessarily bad positions and fighting out of them. Just one fight ago he, as a 5'7" featherweight, jumped to be a last-minute fill-in to fight Jai Herbert, a 6'1" lightweight. Topuria nearly got knocked cold about three separate times in the first round--and then in the second he swam right through a 10" reach disadvantage with a four-punch combination that left Herbert out cold on the mat. After that crushing highlight-reel victory over a British fighter in front of a British crowd, Topuria cut a promo calling out Paddy Pimblett.

You will notice that both men are on this card and Paddy Pimblett is, for some reason, decidedly not matched up with Ilia Topuria.

In some ways this is a mirror match and in some ways their styles couldn't be more different. They're both hardcore wrestleboxers whose kicks are more for rangefinding and distraction than offensive weaponry, but Mitchell likes to throw in loose, potshotting rhythms punctuated with straights and Topuria likes tight, in-the-pocket combinations with booming hooks. They both use wrestling as their core style, but Mitchell likes moving, rolling fluidity and Topuria likes brute, slamming force. Mitchell likes esoteric submissions; Topuria likes to punch people's faces in.

The betting odds are on Topuria's side, and with Topuria's knockout string I understand why, but I think Mitchell should realistically be favored. Ilia's got him beat for power, but Mitchell is extremely durable, extremely tricky and extremely well-conditioned, and Topuria's tendency to use muscle the way he does has a price: He gets a lot of finishes, but we've only seen him go the distance in the UFC once and by the third round he looked like he wanted to die. If he can't get Mitchell out of the fight early, the back half could easily become very, very unpleasant for him.

Bryce Mitchell has an awful lot of ways to win this fight, and even as someone who's been banging on endlessly about future champion Ilia Topuria for two years now, it would surprise me if Mitchell didn't walk away with a decision here.

So anyway, Ilia Topuria by knockout. Because fuck Bryce Mitchell, that's why.

PRELIMS: EDMOND'S REVENGE

HEAVYWEIGHT: Jairzinho Rozenstruik (12-4, #9) vs Chris Daukaus (12-5, #11)

Oh, Jairzinho. We had such hopes. "Bigi Boy" was on top of the world just two years ago, having very literally punched his way to the top of the mountain, only to discover the top of the mountain is very, very slippery. He helped eject Junior dos Santos from the UFC and felled Augusto Sakai to maintain his spot in the top ten, but Francis Ngannou, Ciryl Gane, Curtis Blaydes and Alexander Volkov have all turned him away from getting anywhere near the pinnacle again, and it's hard to see Rozenstruik escaping gatekeeper status at this point in his career.

Chris Daukaus, meanwhile, is trying desperately to avert his first slide. The former cop had one of the better rookie years in UFC heavyweight history, notching four straight knockouts that culminted in well-ranked wins against Aleksei Oleinik and Shamil Abdurakhimov, and honestly, hey: Nothing to sneeze at. Olenik was only two fights removed from beating Fabricio Werdum, Abdurakhimov had recently taken out Marcin Tybura. Solid victories! And then they threw him in there with Derrick Lewis and Curtis Blaydes in a deeply misguided attempt to rocket their cop heavyweight into the title picture and he got his skull punched all the way out of his face twice in a row.

Which makes it more baffling that instead of a Marcin Tybura or Sergei Spivac or Blagoy Ivanov or something, they've decided to book Daukaus to rebound against Jairzinho Rozenstruik, one of the only high-powered kickboxers left in the top ten who hasn't already beaten the shit out of him. Either they really, really believe in Chris Daukaus, or they really, really dislike Chris Daukaus. I'm sure he'll show some stylistic improvements and I'm sure he'll land a bunch of good straights, and then Jairzinho Rozenstruik will win by KO.

BANTAMWEIGHT: Raul Rosas Jr. (6-0) vs Jay Perrin (10-6)

We have arrived at our obligatory Contender Series baby debut, only for once the "baby" part is almost literal. Raul Rosas Jr. got picked up after his chain-wrestling, grappling-heavy style earned him a DWCS win back in September, but they had to wait an extra couple of weeks to actually sign him because he hadn't turned fucking 18 yet. No longer troubled by the difficulties of having to wait for his legal guardian to drop him off after school, the UFC is giving him a pretty big softball.

Jay "The Joker" Perrin is one of those fighters who's seemingly there to reinforce the barrier between the UFC and the rest of the world. He's 10-3 in the regional circuit, with two regional championships to his name thanks to his heavy hands, his aggressive brawling and his sheer grit; he's 0-3 under the UFC's promotional banner, having gotten grappled to death both in the clinch and on the ground by bigger, stronger and more technical wrestlers.

Hey, guess what Raul Rosas Jr. is really good at! That's just such a coincidence. Raul Rosas Jr. by decision.

MIDDLEWEIGHT: Edmen Shahbazyan (11-3) vs Dalcha Lungiambula (11-5)

Oh, redemption road. Edmen Shahbazyan was supposed to be a thing. As of the end of 2019 he was an undefeated, 22 year-old kickboxer with deeply varied striking offense, fairly sound defense, and the kind of aggressive accuracy that can only come from being young and having never known what losing feels like. There's a common problem in mixed martial arts, though: No matter how much promise you have, you're only as good as the people you surround yourself with. Shahbazyan was under the tutelage of Edmond "Ronda Rousey is the best boxer in the world" Tarverdyan, the master of refusing to fill gaping holes in a fighter's defense. So when Derek Brunson proved that you can double-leg Edmen and beat him senseless, he fell into a two-year-long. three-fight-skid from which he has yet to emerge. Even more damningly, in his last fight Edmen was getting tooled on the feet by Nassourdine Imavov, and HE chose to start shooting takedowns--at which point he was effortlessly reversed and once again crushed.

And the UFC is hoping Dalcha Lungiambula can help him recover. Dalcha has proven himself incredibly good at snatching defeat from the jaws of victory. He's an exceptionally powerful fighter--to the point that if you see that Magomed Ankalaev guy in the main event who's near-undefeated and fighting for the world championship a whole weight class up, keep in mind that 5'8" middleweight Dalcha Lungiambula knocked him on his ass with a right hand--and he's got some good power wrestling and some particularly fun suplexes. But the sheer amount of muscle he throws into everything he does saps him, and his own aggression starts getting him trouble. He's seen three straight fights where he's had his opponents hurt and wound up getting overwhelmed and losing anyway. Sometimes it's a superior striker picking him off once he tires; sometimes it's Lungiambula desperately shoving his head directly into a guillotine choke trying for a misguided takedown.

Both guys are on three-fight losing streaks, both guys are very likely fighting for their jobs, and both guys have a solid argument. Edmen's the more conditioned fighter, but he wilts under high pressure; Dalcha's pressure is severe but unsustainable. If he can't get Edmen out of there early, he could easily spend the latter two rounds getting picked apart. But I'm going with Dalcha Lungiambula by TKO anyway. The early power and technique will be a big problem and the Imavov fight doesn't convince me Shahbazyan's going to be able to weather them.

MIDDLEWEIGHT: Chris Curtis (29-9, #14) vs Joaquin Buckley (15-5, NR)

This is the kind of fight that seems like such a no-brainer actionfest that I'm weirdly convinced it's going to somehow be boring. I don't know why. I don't know! Chris Curtis is literally nicknamed ACTION MAN and I have the sinking sensation the awareness both of these dudes have of how easily they could shut one another's lights off will turn this into an at-distance chess match. Curtis is a patient but power-punching guy whom we last saw losing his three-fight winning streak to Jack Hermansson after getting picked off at distance and controlled by kicks and takedowns.

So now he's fighting a power striker instead, which he's probably pretty relieved by. Joaquin Buckley is a very powerful, very accurate fighter who is unfortunately cursed by having done one really cool thing two years ago and now it's the only thing anyone wants from him. The jumping reverse screw kick knockout he scored on Impa Kasanganay is one of the best highlights in the sport's history, but it's also impossible to replicate and it's led to him chasing down heavy strikes when a conservative approach might have been better.

The difficulty Curtis had dealing with Jack Hermansson's kicks just one fight ago are of particular concern against someone who kicks as hard as Buckley, but Buckley's tendency to overswing is just as liable to get him countered. I'm going on a hunch here: Chris Curtis gets a TKO.

EARLY PRELIMS: THIS WAS ORIGINALLY A JOKE ABOUT OVINCE SAINT PREUX
FEATHERWEIGHT: Billy Quarantillo (16-4) vs Alexander Hernandez (13-5)

Alexander Hernandez reliably making featherweight at all remains deeply concerning to me, honestly. That dude was made of muscle and losing enough to comfortably hit 145 is either going to draw him out badly or force him into a lighter frame altogether that...uh, actually, that could be pretty good for him, if he learns to not swing for the fences and get repeatedly picked off. Billy Quarantillo wants to be the Clay Guida of this decade, a constant hurricane of punches and dump takedowns who never lets his opponent breathe, but unfortunately he actually lost to Clay Guida in a grappling competition last year so now he has to be the next Shane Burgos instead. Wait, he lost to Shane Burgos, too. The next Dong Hyun Kim?

Either way, Billy Quarantillo by decision. There's just a lot working against Hernandez here: The pressure and pace Quarantillo will put on him while he's adjusting to a new weight class and the difficulty Hernandez historically has switching between wrestling and striking, which Quarantillo will have absolutely no problem with. It's a rough debut.

FEATHERWEIGHT: TJ Brown (16-9) vs Erik Silva (9-1)

I THINK this fight is still happening? TJ Brown pretty famously left his camp in Arkansas to train with James Krause and his affiliate camps, and James Krause and literally everyone associated with him are currently banned from the sport as part of the single biggest gambling scandal in MMA history, so I'm kind of surprised there hasn't been some public confirmation one way or another regarding this fight. If it does happen, it's going to be a rough fight for Brown. He's had a lot of historical trouble with stronger, more technical wrestlers pinning him down and teeing off on his face, and that's kind of Erik Silva's whole thing. The competition Silva's faced is thus far decidedly below-tier for the UFC, but watching tape on him, he seems to have more than enough gun to muscle Brown down.

Erik Silva by submission.

FLYWEIGHT: Vinicius Salvador (14-4) vs Daniel da Silva (11-4)

I'm going to quote myself from this past August, because it's unfortunately relevant:

I feel for Daniel da Silva. He was a hyped talent out of Shooto Brazil whose only loss came from a freak shoulder injury when he signed with the UFC, and in his first stab at the international talent level, he was soundly, thoroughly outfought by Jeff Molina, and suddenly, he was no longer virtually undefeated. He had to follow up by fighting Francisco Figueiredo, one of the most dangerous finishers in the division, and he was submitting to a kneebar in sixty seconds, and suddenly, he was 0-2 and facing a possible release if he loses again. And Daniel da Silva--a man of sufficient desperation that his training partners nicknamed him Miojo after the ramen packets he carried in his backpack because he couldn't afford anything else--took a replacement fight on six weeks' notice against Victor Altamirano, a remarkably well-rounded fighter and Contender Series winner who lost his UFC debut by a razor-close split decision. And where normally I talk about tune-up fights or how you build and market fighters and express sympathy or anger that a fighter I like is getting stiff matchmaking--it's flyweight. There are no tune-up fights at flyweight.

We're beyond no tune-up fights now and well into sacrificial territory. Vinicius Salvador is much more to Dana White's liking: A taller, scarier guy with stiffer striking and a better chin. Is he still sort of untested? Yes. Was he at 12-4 fighting an 0-0 guy with a braided topknot named Wallace Vampirinho two fights ago? You better fucking believe it.

Is he still going to win? Probably. Vinicius Salvador by TKO.

BANTAMWEIGHT: Cameron Saaiman (6-0) vs Steven Koslow (6-0)

Boy, sometimes you get lucky. Cameron "MSP" Saaiman, bantamweight champion of South Africa's EFC and Contender Series baby as of this summer, was supposed to make his UFC debut here against Ronnie Lawrence, which is a hell of a tough draw for a guy like Saaiman--Lawrence is a high-cardio clinch wrestler and Saaiman is so much a striker that his response to getting taken down in his DWCS fight was angrily slapping his opponent's sides. Lawrence pulled out with an injury last week and got replaced on ultra-short notice by Steven Koslow, who I want to lose purely on the basis of his nickname being "Obi-Wan Shinobi The Pillow," which is the equivalent of not knowing what you want your badass wrestling entrance song to be so you just have them blast all three versions of The Undertaker's theme at the same time. Koslow's a warm body: He's got some grappling chops and he could be a problem if he gets on top of Saaiman, but his takedowns aren't great and his top control looks shaky even against the 4-4 fighters of the world.

Cameron Saaiman by TKO.