The greatest piece of MMA commentary of all time – without question – is Jon Anik’s “…not the cloth from which he is cut” line from Leon Edward’s epic comeback against Kamaru Usman. It was an admittedly elloquent, yet unscripted and largely throwaway missive that would have been forgotten about entirely within seconds were it not for what happened in the proceeding seconds. At CW 199, Cage Warriors had our very own ‘…not the cloth’ moment: Play-by-play man Brad Wharton takes a look back at what made it so special.
We all think that our favourite sport is the best, most entertaining, exciting and emotional thing in the world. I certainly do. I grew up thinking that sport was football; there was nothing quite like the nerve-wracking, emotional highs of watching Peter Schmeichel saving penalties and Ole Gunnar Solskjær scoring winners when United did the treble in 1999, or the crushing lows of seeing England crash out of every major international tournament in my lifetime.
But in my mid-to-late teens, something changed. I became completely engrossed in combat sports, particularly the odd, ultraviolent little niche of what was then known as NHB – No Holds Barred. The sport has changed a lot since then; today’s MMA is a far cry from the bare-knuckle debauchery of the 90s and early 00s, but one thing has stayed the same – its innate ability to conjure the most unexpected moments at the most unlikely of times.
Nicolas Leblond is Cage Warriors’ flyweight champion, a claim he’s been waiting a long, long time to make. It wasn’t an easy climb for the Frenchman. He endured early losses (albeit to a pair of future champions) and a long, agonising wait to get a shot of his own.
He’d been chasing Shaj Haque for what felt like an eternity, with everything from injuries to inclement weather throwing a proverbial spanner in the works prior to their eventual showdown at CW 199 earlier this month.
But still, with everything locked and loaded and both athletes checking in at the fighters’ hotel, the pre-fight drama wasn’t over. Leblond was heavy, very heavy, and with less than 24 hours to go until he had to hit the scales, things were pretty tense in the event week office.
Leblond and his team got down to the business of shifting the weight, CW officials contemplated contingency plans and the seconds ticked by at an agonisingly slow pace. When he finally weighed on on Friday morning, the scales registered 126.4lbs; close, but not close enough for the championship limit of 125.
With a two-hour window to cut the weight, the Frenchman returned to the scales an hour and fifty-nine minutes later. I held the towel for him as he stripped off his sweatsuit and underwear, keeping my fingers, toes and everything else crossed that we still had a title fight that I’d been looking forward to ever since it was first mooted.
He looked exhausted as his coach towelled him down, not an ounce more left in him and no time to lose it even if there were. He let out a deep lungfull of air as he gingerly stepped up to the plate, as if to expel the only other thing left in his body, and closed his eyes.
Second passed in silence as the LED display flashed and flickered, before setting on the all important number.
“125 even!” proclaimed CW matchmaker Ian Dean. Suddenly full of life, Leblond hopped the off the scale and grabbed his gear and let out an almighty roar, before remembering that he was as naked as the day God made him and hastily retreating behind the CW banner to get dressed.
And just that like the rollercoaster ride was over, and we had ourselves a fight…but with a shade over 24 hours to rehydrate and refuel before going five rounds with the champ, at what cost?
Shaj Haque is, and has been for years, one of the most underrated flyweights on the circuit. As good as he is offensively, it’s his ability to prevent opponents from hitting him that has been one of the more formidable weapons in his arsenal over the years.
It should have come as no surprise that he put it to good use against the challenger as their bout got underway in front of a highly partisan crowd. Leblond is incredibly well rounded, but his biggest threat is his one-shot KO power; a rarity in the weight class. Conventional wisdom said that he would have to catch the chap hard and early, especially given the hefty weight cut he’d endured.
Haque was having none of it though, flashing out a trademark jab, chopping away at his man’s lead leg and using his head movement and fancy footwork to prevent Leblond from landing a glove on him. While he was undoubtedly losing the rounds, incredibly it seemed like the Frenchman wasn’t suffering any ill effects from making weight, or if he was, his sheer bloody-mindedness wasn’t letting them show.
The challenger had his best round in the third, but it was time to face facts. Twenty-four minutes in to a twenty-five minute fight, Leblond was down on every scorecard and he’d need nothing short of a miracle to secure his destiny.
As a commentator, a scenario like this is one of the tougher ones to be in. Not as tough as it is for the two people in the middle of a cage fight in front of you mind, but still. The bout had been fairly uneventful and pedestrian, and the result wasn’t in doubt, at least as far as we thought. My personal belief is that if you want viewers to buy into what you’re saying, you have to be honest. We can’t tell fans that they’re watching something that they’re not, but its still our job to make people suspend their disbelief as far as is possible when it looks like only the impossible happening is going to change the outcome of a one-sided affair.
Dan Strauss and I had noted earlier in the fight that if there was one man at 125lbs that you’d bet on to turn things around in such a situation, it was Nicolas Lebond. Little did we know how eerily prophetic we’d been.
So in a desperate attempt to inject some last-minute tension into proceedings, with just sixty seconds on the clock I posed a (somewhat hopeful) question. The kind of question which, like many prayers, often goes unanswered. But at CW 199, the Gods of Violence were generous with their reply.
“Can Nicolas Leblond pull of the comeback of the century here?”
BANG.
As if he’d been waiting for a cue, Leblond uncorked a left hook that landed flush, knocking the champ loopy and sending him crashing back into the cage. A savage uppercut followed. A flurry of strikes. Haque, seemingly on autopilot, scrambled for a leg, only for the challenger to snap him down and jump on his back for a rear-naked choke.
And just like that, Cage Warriors had its very own ‘…not the cloth’ moment.
It was no miracle, no divine intervention. Leblond made the impossible happen. He dug deeper than us regular folk can, because champions are made of something different, something more.
Leblond proved once again that MMA is the sport – perhaps the only sport – where anything can, and often does, happen.
Not just in the words of commentators spouting hyperbole, but in living colour, right before your very eyes.
The greatest sport in the world.
