It seems like the Dragon’s time is coming to a close. The Machida Era is finally at an end.
It may be that Lyoto Machida simply no longer has the athletic ability to apply his skills the same he way he did as a younger man. At 37, that certainly seems plausible. There is also the fact, however, that Machida’s style of movement certainly isn’t up to snuff for the modern middleweight division. I hesitate to call it “out of date,” as that implies that techniques are constantly evolving for the better, and that simply isn’t true. Lyoto’s movement has always had certain limitations, however, and the sport is finally reaching a stage of development where those limitations can be exploited.
Whether or not Yoel Romero’s garbled post-fight speech was an example of anti-gay rhetoric (and it’s really not clear that it was), his performance against Machida was impressive, not for the quality of the strikes he landed or the deftness of his defense–all told, there wasn’t much action at all in this bout–but rather for the tiny little details that constantly put him right where Machida didn’t want him.
Yoel Romero slayed a dragon Saturday night. Here’s how.
IT’S A SMALL WORLD
Lyoto Machida’s style has always had its limitations–he has never been particularly astute, for example, in executing small steps and pivots. His movements, as the movements of Shotokan practitioners often are, are large and dramatic, so much so that they often force similarly large and dramatic movements from the opponent, which can then be countered. Everybody gets the idea at this point: Machida moves and feints, the opponent chases after him, and he makes a sudden change of direction, running his pursuer into a devastating punch.
This worked particularly well for Machida against a less refined class of striker. His back-foot domination of Thiago Silva stands out in particular.
1. Machida moves to his right, and Silva follows.
2. Machida changes direction and moves back to his left. Silva plants his feet–
3. –and throws a cross from too far away. Machida steps left once more to get a nice inside angle.
4. Lyoto’s straight left only hits forearms.
5. But he follows with a right shift that cracks Thiago on the jaw and sends him down.
That’s beautiful. I’ve always loved this sequence. The coolness with which Machida capitalizes on Silva’s mistake is marvelous. In fact, that sequence was a microcosm of the entire fight. Silva chased because he didn’t know how not to; he threw from too far away because Machida convinced him it was his only choice; and he got countered because he hung around for too long at Machida’s preferred range.
But what happens when a fighter doesn’t make those mistakes? What happens when Lyoto’s opponent doesn’t fall into the large, dramatic movements that he wants?
1. Romero stalks forward.
2. Playing Machida’s own game, he sells a very convincing left-hand feint–
3. –compelling Machida to leap backward out of the pocket.
4. Romero takes one big, diagonal step and stays right on him.
5. Then he steps closer–close enough to grab Machida’s left hand with his right.
6. Then he steps closer again.
7. And clubs Lyoto with an overhand left to the temple.
Counter fighter though he is, Machida has always liked fighting with the initiative firmly in his grasp. He leads the dance, and then counters the opponent when they make the expected wrong steps. It’s sort of like seeing into the future.
Yoel Romero took that luxury away from him by refusing to attack until he found himself at the optimal distance from which to do so. As it turns out–and we’ve seen hints of this before–Machida isn’t comfortable at what we might call “boxing distance.” He simply doesn’t operate well in the middle range. The reason for this is pretty simple: Machida likes to see what his opponent is doing in order to walk him into traps. That requires a certain amount of space between himself and his opponent. When that space is taken away, Machida’s line of sight is seriously reduced, and he is forced to fight on “feel” instead, something he’s never been very adept at doing.
Add to that the fact that Romero kept grabbing at Machida’s hands throughout the fight, and you have a recipe for disaster–at least as far as The Dragon is concerned. Not only does Romero’s wrist control in Frame 5 limit Machida’s preferred weapon, it sends a very clear message: “I am very, very close to you right now. Close enough to hit you.” And with that, Machida’s entire game falls apart. The smooth footwork with which he led Thiago Silva to the slaughter is gone. In Frame 6, he performs some kind of awkward stance switch rather than simply stepping or pivoting to his right. In Frame 7, he gets caught with his feet completely square, with Romero at a strong inside angle. Ironically, Romero put Machida in the same unfortunate position in which he put Thiago Silva six years ago.
At this reduced range, Romero was able to play all kinds of tricks on Machida–the same kind that Machida has long been known for playing on his opponents.
1. Romero stands just outside of punching range.
2. Preparing to close the distance, he slides his rear foot forward, extending his hands to engage Machida’s as he does.
3. Now stepping forward into range with his lead foot, Romero reaches for Machida’s left hand–
4. –and then quickly jukes his right down the center, between Lyoto’s outstretched arms and into his chin.
5. Followed by a swinging left to the neck.
Closing the distance allowed Romero to force reactions out of Machida, playing his own game against. him. And once Romero became confident that he could predict those reactions, he began capitalizing on openings he knew would be there.
Now let’s be clear: Romero didn’t do anything particularly incredible as far as technique is concerned. His boxing is rudimentary at best, and his love of flash over substance means that he spends a good deal of time on the feet getting very little done. But the framework upon which those techniques were hung was incredibly solid.
If Machida had a respectable jab, he could have thwarted Romero’s entries, since Romero more often than not walked right into the pocket without any set-up. A darting right hand here and there would have stalled Romero’s advance and given Machida the time he needed to reestablish his own range. Better “boxing footwork” would’ve helped as well. Lyoto might have moved into Yoel instead of constantly dancing away from him, cutting off the distance himself and then pivoting away while the Cuban was still reacting to the sudden change of direction.
But Machida doesn’t do these things, and it’s pretty clear that Yoel Romero knew that. Or his trainers did. With a relatively limited offensive toolkit, Romero shut down one of the most successful striking styles in the history of MMA. And whatever nonsense he said after the fight shouldn’t wipe that from our memories. Machida may not be long for the sport now, but beating him like that still means something.
For more analysis (and lots of other waffle) check out my new podcast, The Fistorical Perspective, in which myself and boxing historian Kyle McLachlan talk classic fights, legendary boxers, and more.