21 September 2013

Toronto, Canada

UFC 165

By Ray Klerck

Some fights crown champions. Some put them under the microscope and start poking around to see where their weaknesses might be. At UFC 165, there were 5 rounds of forensic analysis on the champ, who was sitting on 18 wins and 1 loss, famously considered a technicality. Riding a 9-fight win streak, the guy was every bit as unstoppable as he always has been, to the point where the belt never felt like something he defended, because nobody else was allowed to touch. Then Alexander Gustafsson turned up and started asking uncomfortable questions. By the end of the night, the answers weren’t nearly as clear as anyone expected.

THE KING WHO NEVER BLEEDS

Up until this point, all of Jone’s opponents would arrive with confidence and leave looking like they’d just tried to solve a Rubik’s Cube underwater that was guarded by a goliath grouper. The reach, the elbows, the spinning attacks that felt like they were downloaded from a different sport entirely. He was more than better. He was different. And, crucially, he was untouchable thanks to his 100% takedown defence, which remained as solid as Fort Knox after nearly 20 fights. That was until the first round, when Gustafsson changed levels and drove the champ into the canvas. The 100% became 99%, and in that decimal point of failure, there was a shift in the expectations around his performance. Alexander Gustafsson didn’t seem to have any thoughts about any of what had come before. He didn’t care that in Jone’s previous 6 title fights, he’d only absorbed 105 significant strikes, making him a ghost of the light-heavyweight division. During the next 25 minutes, Gustafsson hit him 110 times, doing more damage in one night than half a dozen legends had done in three years.

R1: SOMETHING'S OFF

We all have expectations, even the coaches and fighters do, but those went out the window very early on in the exchange. Gustafsson came out active and touching the lead leg, then stepping in behind a jab while Jones tried to establish his usual rhythm with kicks to the body and legs, but he kept getting met with something on the way in. A clean uppercut here. A right hand there. Nothing wild, just enough to disrupt the flow. Then came the cut. A left-hand split Jones above the eye and immediately changed how everything looked. Blood has a funny way of shifting momentum, even when the fight is still close. And then the moment neither of them will forget. Gustafsson shot and put Jones on his back. Not for long, not with damage, but long enough for everyone in the arena to register what had just happened. The untouchable had been touched.

R2: THIS ISN’T GOING AWAY

Jones came out in the second looking to tidy up the mess. He increased his volume of kicks, had better range management, and unleashed his famously suffocating presence. The trouble for Jones was that Gustafsson wasn’t reacting like everyone else. There was a point where Jones had 6 take-down attempts thwarted by his opponent. He stayed in range just enough to land and just out of range enough to avoid the worst of it. When Jones started building, Gustafsson interrupted him with straight punches that snapped his head back and forced the resets. There were several head kicks from Jones that landed clean and got a reaction, but even that didn’t swing things dramatically. Gustafsson circled, reset, and went straight back to work with a hand speed advantage. It was a close round, the kind where you start to realise this isn’t a fluke, and we could have a fight on our hands.

R3: NOW WE’RE HAVING A FIGHT

By the third, it had settled into something rare. Two elite fighters, both having success, and neither willing to take a backward step. Gustafsson’s jab kept finding the target, his right-hand landing often enough to keep Jones honest. Jones answered with heavier artillery. Kicks to the leg, kicks to the body, and the occasional elbow that only the champion can throw. They traded in pockets, separated, then went again. There wasn’t any wild brawling, just sharp, controlled exchanges, and depending on what you supported, you could lean either way on the scorecards. 

R4: THE CHAMPION REMEMBERS

Champions don’t always dominate. Sometimes they just pick their moment. This round started like the others, competitive and tight, but there was a subtle shift. Jones began to step in with slightly more intent than they had in previous rounds, and his shots carried a bit more weight. Then a defining moment landed, which came in a kick that snapped Gustafsson’s head back, followed by a spinning elbow that changed everything. You could see it in Gustafsson’s body language. He wasn’t broken, but was forced into survival mode. His movement tightened, his reactions slowed just a fraction, and Jones poured it on with knees and punches in close. It wasn’t a finish, but it was a statement.

R5: DEEP WATER

By the fifth, both men looked like they’d been through something they’d experienced before. It was a new feeling that had left both with faces marked, breathing heavier, and movements just a touch slower. Gustafsson could sense the belt was within reach, but knew he needed something, so he pushed forward, throwing combinations with urgency, trying to steal the round late. Jones met him with composure, landing cleaner, heavier shots and even mixing in a takedown that, while brief, reinforced control. There were elbows, a flying knee, and enough damage from Jones to tilt things his way. Gustafsson kept coming, but the timing wasn’t quite there anymore. The fight didn’t fade. It just ran out of time.

THE FINISH WITHOUT A FINISH

There was no knockout. No submission. No moment you could freeze and say, “That’s it.” There were just two fighters standing at the end of 25 minutes, both exhausted, both were utterly convinced they’d done enough to win. The crowd was already buzzing before the scorecards were even read.

48-47. 48-47. 49-46.

Jones keeps the belt. The reaction tells you everything about how close it was. Jones walked out still champion, but the invincibility had taken a dent. For the first time, he looked like someone you could actually reach, hit, and push. Gustafsson walked out without the belt, but with something that lasts longer than gold. Proof that the gap wasn’t mythical. That the champion could be dragged into deep water and made to work for every second. And for one night in Toronto, Jon Jones wasn’t operating above the fight. He was right in the middle of it, dealing with everything coming back at him. They did redo the fight, but the results were nothing like the first iteration, which made it one of the greatest fights of all time. Watch it here.