Hat-Eating Season
Seven fights, seven finishes, and a lot of admitting I was wrong
Ok.
So UFC Freedom 250 was absolutely incredible, and probably one of the greatest MMA cards I’ve ever seen.
That’s a sentence I didn’t think I would ever write. But hey, we’re living in a timeline of unrelenting peculiarity, and not much shocks me these days.
Now I admit there’s a bit of MAGA hat-eating to do on my part, and we’ll get to that, but let’s recap some of the most notable parts of the event.
The night got off to a rocky start, the much anticipated storms approached, and it looked like the many haters would get their wish of a wash out. I have to admit, part of me was hoping for a cancellation.
I’m not a fan of the administration currently ruling the USA, so some form of operational disaster would have given me a degree of pleasure as it was added to an ever growing list of government blunders.
However, most of me was just too excited for the fights, so I was relieved when the spirits of America’s forefathers worked some red, white and blue magic and split the storm cell in half to avoid drenching the octagon.
The purpose-built arena stood imposing on the White House lawn, huge metal arches encapsulated the cage and shone a vast array of light effects.
The sky cleared, and with only an hour delay the opening ceremony kicked into gear.
Then the most absurd visual plastered the TV screen; Donald Trump and Dana White on the balcony, tens of thousands of fans gathered around the White house, a military band playing a rendition of AC/DC as a squadron of F/A-18 Superhornet jet fighters thundered above.
It was fucking sick.
All the while I kept my eye on Instagram, and noticed an unlikely pairing of Sean Strickland and Craig Jones began to take shape. Sean was looking for a way into the fan arena; The Eclipse. Craig somehow had tickets, and the two most chaotic men in modern martial arts began their assault on the front line.
It wasn’t long before Craig’s story showed Strickland being escorted off the premises by what looked like a mix of ICE, Police and Secret Service agents. Brilliant.
The fighter walkouts were next level. Starting in the Oval Office, through the beautiful architecture of the White House corridors, onto the balcony before descending the stairs to the cage, all accompanied by exceptional live entrance music performed by the aforementioned military band.
Then, the fights.
Jesus H. Christ, the fights. Seven fights, seven finishes. Wild.
I am happy to announce I got most of my picks wrong, some of them I wasn’t even close.
Lopes knocked out Garcia in round two, decided against using his Jiu Jitsu to submit, proving again how dangerous he can be on the feet.
Annoyingly, Bo Nickal got the W via TKO over Daukaus. Which will most definitely result in Bo becoming even more arrogant and cocky as he scores his first win against someone who isn’t a tin can.
Ruffy obliterated Chandler, who has already claimed he would bounce back in “true Chandler fashion”. Old mate seemed to forget this was his fourth straight loss, bringing his total UFC record to 2-6. I still don’t think we’ll see him fight in this promotion again.
Derrick Lewis surprised no one and suffered an embarrassing loss to the loud-mouthed Josh Hokit. Hokit remained in kayfabe and made the entire world cringe in his post-fight interview claiming Michelle Obama was a man. The joke landed like a lead balloon and probably wasn’t quite the effect Josh had hoped for, but it kept people talking about him which is the true goal of his entire schtick.
Suga Sean got his much needed TKO over Zahabi, extending the UFC’s artificially created narrative for just a bit longer. Sean’s on thin ice, this will probably get him another title opportunity at some point. But the boy has to keep this momentum going before he’s cast to headlining events at the Apex.
And then the main events. As if we hadn’t been treated enough already, two of the most shocking results were waiting in the (west) wings.
In a massive upset, Cyril “Dirty Bastard” Gane kicked the shit out of Alex Pereira, knocking him out in round two.
Cyril looked great; fast, agile and locked in. Poatan, notably smaller and perhaps fast-tracked into a new weight class, didn’t look comfortable. His usual terrifying forward pressure was nullified by Gane’s reach. Eventually putting him to the canvas with a jab the snipers on the roof would have been proud of.
Alex lost. There is no doubt. It’s done.
However, something has to be done about the sheer amount of fouls Cyril Gane does in every single fight.
There were at least four illegal strikes to the back of Alex’s head as he went down. Although I don’t think Alex would have won, he may have been able to recover and continue for longer if he hadn’t eaten direct elbows to the nape of his neck.
Herb “If He Dies, He Dies” Dean’s refereeing should be under scrutiny as he also seems to let fighters regularly get away with such flagrant rule breaking. It’s his job to look after these fighters, and consistently proves otherwise.
I get it, fights are dynamic and the odd punch can miss the intended mark in the heat of battle. But either punish illegal shots, or get rid of the rules. You can’t have it both ways.
The tension was palpable leading onto the final fight of the night, and where my most confident prediction couldn’t have been further from the result.
Justin motherfucking Gaethje.
I don’t know what breed of dog is inside of this man, but he shocked the world that night by completely taking apart the undefeated favourite Ilia Topuria.
Justin farmed some serious aura in his walkout. Standing in front of the declaration of independence, the live band playing with an extra kick of patriotism as he marched with authority to the octagon.
I should have known there and then. An American fighting in front of the President on the White House lawn for what would have probably been his last chance at undisputed gold.
Losing simply wasn’t an option.
What followed was a four-round war.
Ilia, perhaps a victim of his own hubris, seemed to be hunting for the first round KO he had promised, and looked visibly shaken when Justin not only refused to go down, but was replying with his own onslaught of grenade-fists.
Justin and his team had game planned to perfection. Shutting Ilia’s tactics down and dismantling El Matador’s face with precision.
Because the event was held outside, the crowd noise was muted, cheers and jeers floated into the vast space, making the dull thuds of fists landing more prominent.
It reminded me of the COVID-era fight against Tony Ferguson—Justin delivering a beating so bad it quite literally changed Tony; he hasn’t been the same since. The lack of crowd in that fight meant we heard and felt every single punch too. It took awhile to get the sounds of Gaethje’s fists pounding the bloody mess that was Ferguson’s face out of my mind.
It was confronting and uncomfortable to watch.
Although Ilia fought valiantly, landing some ferocious liver-shots that would have killed a normal person, Justin would not relent and fired back with more skull-mangling shots of his own.
After continuing for one round longer than it really should have, Ilia’s corner threw in the towel, and accepted his first loss.
News outlets are reporting that he suffered fractures in both orbital bones and a broken nose amongst other more superficial lacerations, and I’m assuming a concussion from hell.
This has the potential to be a life-altering loss for Ilia, and I do hope he’ll take the time to heal properly, learn from his mistakes and come back stronger. The guy is incredible, and it would be a huge loss for the sport if he couldn’t come back from this.
Props to Justin, he would have died in the cage over losing, and what a way to finally get an undisputed title. That night he solidified himself as one of the most exciting and violent fighters the UFC has ever seen.
Overall Freedom 250 was a throw back to the excitement I used to have for PPV’s of old. Back when there wasn’t some form of UFC event every single week, and we had the time to get excited for them.
There’s no spectacle left in the UFC anymore. Dana announces fights from his fucking kitchen on Instagram live. AI slop is used for promotional material. Nina Drama performs cutting edge MMA journalism with questions such as “wats ur fav taco filling?”.
UFC Freedom 250 has shown there is value in these awe-inspiring, grandiose events. I don’t expect a card at the Taj Mahal next, but damn it Dana, put a bit of effort into it mate.
Because myself and 17 million other viewers—for those 3 hours at least—completely forgot that Donald Trump is a paedophile.
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