There’s something both wild and weird about the UFC 314 show. And I can’t quite put my finger on it, but here I go trying to make sense of it. So, Michael Chandler — that’s “Iron” Mike to those who’ve been following the whirlwind that is his career. And normally, I’d be all about him hanging up the gloves now. But oddly enough, that’s not the vibe I’m getting anymore.
I’ve been on the Chandler train since, like, 2011. Long time, right? Back then, he was not just winning fights but exploding onto the scene like a firecracker — beat Eddie Alvarez, which was, by the way, possibly the best thing I’d ever watched on a screen. There’s a part of me that’s kinda sad thinking that back in his prime days at Bellator, Chandler could have made guys like Pettis and Henderson look like amateurs — in some topsy-turvy world where promoters played nice and let fighters battle it out across promotions.
Here’s the deal — Chandler isn’t what he used to be. Last night’s Chandler at UFC 314? Not the same ball of fury he once was. The guy who used to bulldoze into the cage? Gone. All that wear and tear? It creeps up when you’re, I dunno, mid-30s and hadn’t fought for a couple of years.
But let’s remember: Chandler’s peak didn’t happen in UFC. I kinda wish it did, though — I’m forever wondering what “prime” Chandler might have done in the promotion’s ring. He was already a little frayed around the edges by the time he showed up, but dang, he still gave us some remarkable fights.
Yet here we are. Chandler’s fast pace? No longer there. You see him against Paddy Pimblett, and it’s evident. The spark’s missing. Pulling off those wild athletic moves? That’s history, and obviously, that was the core of his fighting style.
Now what? Tough times for an athlete who thrived on explosive power. What’s Chandler? He’s like an old, gritty wrestler now, and that’s a polite way of putting it. I’m sure his punches still sting like all hell, but danger lurks in predictability — anyone perceptive is gonna see those fists coming a mile away.
There’s one silver lining, though — and this is why I’m not screaming ‘retire!’ from the rooftops. Goldilocks kinda deal with McGregor now, isn’t it? Chandler vs. McGregor, it’s just the right fit, right now. Chandler’s not that fearsome force from yesteryear, making him the perfect dance partner for McGregor, who’s not exactly at his best, either. But hey, Chandler hasn’t taken any majorly shameful losses, so there’s still a bit of shine left to sell that fight.
It’s crazy to think, but Chandler’s decline kind of boosts McGregor’s chances. Seriously, it’s like the universe suddenly aligned for Conor here — Chandler’s slippin’, leaving those defensive gaps wide open. Get him on his back? No big deal, ‘cause Chandler can’t keep folks down for too long these days… and he kinda looks like he’ll run out of gas sooner rather than later.
All this decline—and I say this with some level of disbelief—makes it more likely Chandler’s gonna get that red panty night post-UFC 314. Isn’t that something? Getting worse might just get him the biggest payday yet.
Oh, and if you’re interested in flipping the event over in detail, there’s a recap somewhere. But let’s be real—this tangent got away from me long ago, and I’m too busy other-where in thought to give it to you right now.
