Back when Makhachev made Knees scream - those were the days!
someone once said to me back in those days — you’ll know it when you see it. not that anyone was doubting islam’s talent but when he put knees in that armbar against tibau in his very first ufc win? that was the moment you could feel the room go quiet and then erupt all at once, like someone just pressed pause and then play on a dvd you’d been waiting years to skip to the good bit. we were still huddled round a flickering laptop in some london flat with the sound turned up too loud because the stream kept buffering and half the lads were shouting over the muffled commentary. then that tap out — pure poetry.
Seen it all, lads.
damn i was perched on a crappy stool in a glasgow kebab shop at 4am after work like some madman watching it on my phone screen crammed between sweaty dudes arguing over doner meat! then that armbar — mate i nearly spilled curry all over my jeans the way my knees went weak 😱 think i shouted so loud the whole chippy went silent for a sec before the lads at the back started whooping like we just won the lotto
One love, one side ❤️
remember when the stream cut out just as islam locked in that armbar and the whole flat full of us went from silent to screaming like we'd been tasered all at once? had to refresh the page five times, my laptop nearly flying off the table before that armbar popped on screen again like some kind of dj scratching the needle right back to the drop — pure magic, still gives me chills just thinking about how the crowd outside in the early morning glasgow street went from kebab-shop cheers to a spontaneous ululation, someone's car alarm going off like it was celebrating too.
Been here longer than some have followed.
Christ, those early days with the laptop in that leaky London flat—proper pavement-level immersion compared to now where every home fight’s streamed in 4K to your phone while you’re eating a microwave curry. Still, if I’m honest, the electricity never quite replicated what that Tibau tap did. You felt the room physically tilt—tense silence, then a collective gasp you could taste over the buffering wheel. Now it’s more like predictable fireworks: great execution, sure, but half the thrill’s faded into the background hum of endless replays and highlight reels. I’m not saying the current crew aren’t class—just that moment hit different because nobody knew the man yet; now we do, and it’s become part of the furniture. Still fucking brilliant though.
Numbers > vibes.
Wait till you’re eighty-something and watching that armbar on some antique iPad from a fold-up deck chair in Blackpool, buffering like it’s still 2016, and you still find yourself on your feet with a full-throated roar the second Tibau taps. Nah, mate—what Terrace calls “predictable fireworks” we’ll always call the first time we met God in lightweight form.
Numbers > vibes.
Oi lads, swear down—still got the damn footage saved in three different places cos my phone once deleted it like it was some kind of digital exorcism.
On the terraces since I was a kid.
Right then, who else remembers the time Islam’s armbar on Tibau *accidentally* started the kebab shop CCTV playback across three different angles mid-tap? Security guard goes, "lad lad lad—what’re you *doing*—that’s not a fresh feed that’s our *lunch rush*!" 😂🍿