Conor McGregor did it.
Many felt that McGregor hadn’t really earned a shot at featherweight champion Jose Aldo–not because his wins in the division hadn’t been impressive, or dominant, but because in a division full of talented wrestlers, “The Notorious” hadn’t faced a single one. That was set to change when Aldo withdrew from the fight with a broken rib, and the UFC replaced him with Chad Mendes, not only one of the best wrestlers in the division, but the number one contender. The promotion must be commended for putting their cash cow at such risk on such short notice, and McGregor must be commended even more for gladly accepting the tough new style matchup.
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And then he did it; he made the grade. He made it look easy too, even as he struggled. Somehow, despite missing plenty of the questions, McGregor passed the test with flying colors.
QUESTION AND ANSWER
This was the first part of the exam, and the one with which I expected McGregor to struggle most. Mendes is a born counter fighter, and as I discussed prior to the bout, McGregor is consistently open to be countered. Mendes discovered early that those openings were as present as ever.
1. McGregor measures using his right hand, and finds that Mendes is close enough for a cross.
2. As Mendes steps in McGregor’s straight left clips along the side of his jaw but doesn’t land clean.
3. Mendes looks to counter with an overhand right, but both men have fallen into one another.
4. Mendes, however, is ready with a follow-up, and as McGregor pulls straight back he eats a flush left hook to the jaw.
Much was made of McGregor’s tremendous reach advantage, but he has a tendency to close the gap for his opponents. True, Mendes struggled to lead effectively, but his counter punches landed almost without fail in the early part of the bout. McGregor fell into every left hand he threw, collapsing the distance between himself and Mendes and leaving him off-balanced and incapable of defending himself. The counter takedowns were there for Mendes as well, for the same reasons.
1. Mendes circles to his right, denying McGregor’s favored inside angle.
2. Wanting to cut off his escape, McGregor steps forward, measuring with his right . . .
3. . . . and unleashing a long left, which Mendes deftly parries.
4. McGregor, fully committed to his attack, continues to fall forward as Mendes changes levels and moves in.
5. Mendes gets his hands around both of McGregor’s legs, slams into his hips . . .
6. . . . and blasts him off his feet.
Note that in Frame 4 above McGregor’s left foot is dragged forward by the momentum of his punch. Typically it is very difficult to hit a double leg takedown in an open stance engagement. The distance between a southpaw and an orthodox fighter is usually greater than that between two fighters of identical stance. Add to that the fact that both fighters’ rear legs are automatically out of reach, and the prospect of wrapping both legs up at once becomes very difficult. But by falling into his attacks, McGregor closes more than just the distance between his chin and his opponent’s fists.
LONGFORM
I’ve written and spoken extensively about McGregor’s increasing tendency to punch with his opponents. Relying more and more on his power and chin to get the job done, Conor seems to be running rather than walking on this “puncher’s path,” and that way leads only to disaster. It was ironic, then, that McGregor’s newfound penchant for long combinations in the pocket ended up being his saving grace against the heavy-handed, sharpshooting Mendes.
1. Having fought off a desperate takedown, McGregor closes in on the exhausted Mendes.
2. Touching Mendes’ shoulder with an extended right hand, he senses a labored punch incoming.
3. As McGregor steps back, Mendes bails on his attack, but stumbles out of position anyway.
4. McGregor leaps on the opportunity, spearing a left hand through Mendes’ guard.
5. Now Chad is in full-on retreat, and McGregor stays on him.
6. Another right hand, this one a respectable jab right on the point of Mendes’ chin.
7. McGregor follows that up with a short left hand.
8. And as Mendes makes a desperate bid to cover up, McGregor sneaks a right hook around the side of his guard.
9. Followed by a hard left uppercut that smashes into Mendes’ face as he shells up and ducks his head.
10. And another right hook convinces him to start moving . . .
11. . . . right into a thudding body kick.
McGregor is a very sharp combination puncher, despite the openings in his defense. He selects his attacks wisely, not following his opponent’s swaying head but intercepting it, picking it up when he starts to duck, or whacking it side to side when he pulls away. And while McGregor himself is open when he pulls straight back, he knows exactly how to capitalize when his opponent does the same, following with long punches or, as in this instance, crushing kicks.
The crux of my “puncher’s path” argument was always that a fighter who learns to love and rely on his power will ultimately defeat himself. When a man’s usual strategy comes down to “I can take his shots and he can’t take mine,” his eventual destination seems pretty clear. The downfall comes eventually. But right now, while McGregor is in the prime of his youth and the peak of his powers, that unshakable belief makes him a veritable force of nature, and a terrifying opponent for any sane fighter.
STRENGTH AND WEAKNESS
Many have lauded McGregor for what they deem an intelligent approach to a stylistically challenging opponent. Honestly, I think this misrepresents McGregor’s performance and, in a way, undersells it. Let’s be honest: Conor didn’t fight particularly smart. He walked into counter punches almost at will. He spent a good portion of the fight on his back taking hard punches and elbows from a powerful hitter. He didn’t seem capable of adapting to the various threats that Mendes presented. A gamble does not become smart simply because it pays off in the end.
But McGregor was tough as nails. Inhumanly tough. Normal people don’t just walk through Chad Mendes’ hardest shots. Normal people don’t spend a round on their backs being beaten up and then, when given the opportunity to stand, rush the opponent as if everything is going according to plan. Normal people don’t have the absurd force of will necessary to do something like that.
In the aftermath of UFC 189, it seems we’ve learned nothing new about Conor McGregor, but the notions we already had have been intensified. Yes, he’s open when he attacks. No, he doesn’t adapt particularly well to an effective wrestler. Those weaknesses are real. But in discovering this, we learned just how profound his strengths are. On last week’s episode of Heavy Hands, co-host Patrick Wyman and I both picked Mendes to upset McGregor. We figured that McGregor’s swarming style would falter when faced with the constant interruptions of Mendes’ counter punches and takedowns. The interruptions were there–but who could have guessed that McGregor simply wouldn’t care?
Certainly not Mendes himself. The two-time title challenger is used to a relatively slow pace, a luxury afforded him by his power. When McGregor ate the shots and just kept coming, kept picking away and feeling for openings, Mendes had no choice but to throw more, and throw harder. Even that didn’t work, and before he knew it his stamina was spent.
It’s hard to attribute that to intelligence on McGregor’s part, but that doesn’t make it unimpressive. Quite the opposite, in fact. Now that McGregor’s shot at Jose Aldo is back on track, we’ll have to seriously reevaluate his chances of taking the title from the only featherweight champ the UFC has ever known. Aldo, the greatest technician in the sport, has an incredible will of his own. His long reign at the top is a testament to that. But when the unbreakable meets the unstoppable . . . who wins?
Four weeks ago I would’ve picked Aldo as I always have. Now? I don’t know.
For more on this matchup, stay tuned to Heavy Hands, the only podcast dedicated to the finer points of face-punching. This Wednesday, Patrick Wyman and I will break down all of the great action from UFC 189.