UFC 249: Sport is back! And it’s bloodier than ever

The UFC became the first global organisation to get back in the octagon after COVID-19 stopped the greatest show on earth – sport – in its tracks.

Justin Gaethje lands a heavy punch on Tony Ferguson in their Interim lightweight title fight during UFC 249 in Jacksonville, Florida. Picture: Getty Images

Sport was back. It was either UFC 249 or a Melbourne Storm game. Ryan “Superman” Spann beat some poor bloodstained bugger in a preliminary bout — got him right on the snoz! — before shrugging his shoulders at the empty stadium in Jacksonville, Florida, and saying, “I don’t like people anyway.”

The UFC on Sunday became the first global organisation to get back in the octagon after COVID-19 stopped the greatest show on earth — sport, wondrous sport — in its tracks. Oh, glory. Oh, gory! Faces only a mother could love. Winners were dripping blood, their eyes were swollen, their lips were busted, but you should have seen the other bloke. The only show in town, in any town, was nothing if not intense. Kicks to the head. Elbows to face. Choke holds were excruciating to watch. You could have sworn somebody was going to be killed.

US President Donald Trump said on a video message: “Get the sports leagues back. Let’s play. We need sports.” Trump needs to concentrate on other things after 78,400 COVID-19 deaths and 1.3 million cases, but let’s not delve into American politics. There’s the real carnage.

I used to think the UFC was appalling. Legalised thuggery, et cetera. Then I went to a couple of Rob Whittaker fights in the US and enjoyed every heart-stopping second. It was bloody. Great. Bloody great. They weren’t being forced into the cage. They wanted to be locked in, key thrown, so they could settle things the old-fashioned way. You could imagine a futuristic sport in which it was life and death; a futuristic sport in which a UFC bout kept going until the loser was dragged out by his ankles and dumped at the morgue. It was the most ferocious atmosphere. The most dangerous pursuit. But I saw a sort of nobility in Whittaker fighting to give his family a better life. Why? Because fighting was all he could do.

UFC 249: a whole lot of grudge matches. What a way to settle a grudge. The main preliminary was between Donald ‘Cowboy’ Cerrone and Anthony ‘Showtime’ Pettis. Cerrone had his nose smashed by Conor McGregor in an embarrassingly swift loss in his last bout. His defeat to Pettis seven years ago had bugged him ever since. Here was the chance to atone. It was wild. They could have been raising their fists, knees, elbows, feet in a darkened alley. They kicked and punched and poked and spat and bled and then when it was over, Pettis winning, they hugged like they had never had so much fun in their lives. “He hits me, I hit him. That’s what it’s all about,” Pettis said.

Sport was back. Blimey. The main event was an interim lightweight title fight between Tony Ferguson and Justin Gaethje. Gaethje did to Ferguson what Mick Fanning did to the shark at J-Bay: threw the kitchen sink. You could not watch, you had to watch. It was brutal. It was no Bernie Tomic tank job. Gaethje’s coach Trevor Wittman told him to take 10 per cent off his punches. He suggested a more sensible plan than the present one of “you’re trying to kill him”. Blood covered every centimetre of Ferguson’s face. If it was a movie scene, you would have been screaming and diving under the seats — only to take another peek.

Before steeping forth into the cage, Ferguson had said, “Right now there is no Olympics. There is no Wimbledon. There is no NBA drafts. No NFL drafts. There is no f … ing tennis! This what we bring to the table, man, and we are going out there and do our best and we are going to keep sports alive.” It nearly did him in. Gaethje battered him. Received the TKO win in the fifth round. It was sport at its most raw and brutal. No nuances to compare to a ticklish downhill putt at Augusta National. No intricate battle to compare to Nathan Lyon versus a decent Test batsman on a turning track. The return of big-time sport on Sunday featured its most vicious one. Violence? Nothing worse than you’d see in a Quentin Tarantino flick.

It was enthralling. Enough to spark an interest in UFC 250.