3. Chris Weidman vs. Lyoto Machida
UFC 175
July 5 | Las Vegas
Three weeks after Weidman prevailed in his sensational Ultimate Fighting Championship middleweight title defense against Machida at UFC 175, I was in a bar in Montreal. My eavesdropping attention was quickly grabbed when I heard a man -- who, in the interest of brevity, I will simply describe as a “grown hockey bro” -- holding court in a conversation with other like-minded, like-dressed gentlemen. Yet, in spite of whatever visual stereotypes he fit, his diatribe genuinely intrigued and endeared me. He was passionately breaking down Weidman’s recent performance and not at all like you would imagine a liquored dude in a bar would analyze it.
“No one figures out Machida, but Weidman did,” he said. “Machida fought like a champ and almost knocked him out, but Weidman is so smart. He’s a technician, man. He’s a real champ.”
He won my heart with those last eight words. MMA is a sport that, however erroneously, draws a hard divide between “hardcore” intelligentsia and the unwashed “casuals” that presumably spend their days drooling on themselves while crying out for Brock Lesnar. This guy in the bar screamed “casual,” yet he intuited exactly what was so compelling and enjoyable about Weidman-Machida -- a matchup where the real story was about tactics and execution in a championship MMA fight.
In his second UFC title defense, Weidman showed the strategic preparedness he used to take it and defend it from the legendary Anderson Silva. Weidman used a variety of low kicks and body kicks to score on Machida, thwart his movement and ultimately trap him against the fence. When he did get “The Dragon” backed up, he brilliantly disguised punching combinations and takedown attempts. When Machida tried to kick, Weidman had moved him so far back to the fence that the champion stepped through the kicks and landed with punches. Every exchange was tense, and this was by no means a blowout, but after 15 minutes, Weidman was perfectly balancing aggression and precision as a pressure fighter.
Round four then began, and it was time for Weidman’s first real taste of danger, not just as champion but as a professional. Weidman is a fighter that had arguably never previously lost a round in his 11-fight career. He was about to lose one beyond a shadow of a doubt, and we would all find out if he was a great young champion or a just very good fighter with a belt.
In the fourth, Machida landed left hands early and began to finally control and trap Weidman’s lead hand. Suddenly, it was the Brazilian moving forward, the fence on his back a distant memory. Machida’s lefts began piling up, “The Dragon” scorching Weidman with counters on every kick he threw. With 20 seconds left, the former UFC light heavyweight champion went into kill mode, landing with both hands and punching blood out of the champ’s busted mouth.
It set the stage for a perfect fifth round, where the narrative was neither a wounded champion desperately trying to hang on, nor that of a challenger who had his one aberrant moment of success. Instead, Weidman and Machida fought like their careers were on the line, the challenger ringing up the champion early with more punches and forcing the Long Island, N.Y., native to answer back. In the final round, Weidman found success cutting off Machida and trapping him in clinching range, where he scored with combination punches, elbows and knees. He got his man back to the fence late, took him down and took his back, fishing for a choke. Machida shook him off and fired desperate punches to the horn. It was a beautiful way to end a beautiful fight.
With scores of 49-45, 49-46, 48-47, the Serra-Longo fighter took the unanimous decision, but it was bigger than that. He beat a great former champion and perennial star and, in many respects, beat him at his own esoteric, dangerous game. He absorbed the best that a motivated, inspired, fiery Machida had to offer, and ultimately persevered. You do not necessarily need to be “hardcore” to “get” Weidman. He might be unassuming and drama-free beyond the Octagon, but when the cage door closes, his mentality is crystal clear, and what makes him special is abundantly clear to even a “casual” eye: He is a technician, man, a real champ.
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