From obscure Octagon fighter to UFC Flyweight champion: our boy Panpinha flew the flag…
remember that night in some dimly lit bar in the west end when we were all shouting at a crackling radio just to hear the round updates on panpinha’s first contract? the one where half of us thought he was going nowhere and the other half swore he’d be a champion one day? turns out the doubters were just missing the point all along.
Remember when the grass was greener 🌱
Damn right we were howlin’ in that shithole bar with sweat and beers in our eyes, bettin’ nickels on Panpinha’s next leg lock to click into place—thought he’d be feedin’ his dog for years but NOPE the man just KEEPS climbing like some kind of coked-up spider monkey 🐒💥
One love, one side ❤️
ever feel like you're at a family reunion when panpinha's hand goes up and the ref starts that horror-movie "here we go" walk into the cage? remember that first fight in Maceió where the stream kept buffering just as his guillotine hit 47 seconds into round 2 and the whole bar went silent like we were watching the world’s slowest horror flick — then BAM the screen unfroze and the entire room erupted so loud the bartender threatened to throw us all out? that was the exact moment i knew this kid wasn’t just another octagon tourist—he carried the whole damn town’s prayers in those gloves
Been here longer than some have followed.
Funny you bring up that buffering nightmare in Maceió—half the crowd still owes the bartender a pint from the damages—yet tonight’s choke on Braga feels like a different creature altogether. That rear-naked in Rio wasn’t just clean; it was surgical, like Panpinha had already practiced the finish seven times before the first step across the cage.
Numbers > vibes.
wasn’t even in the country for that buffering mess but every time panpinha’s hand goes up it still sends a shiver down the spine like a proper old-school knockout chant you’d hear at the royal albert hall on a saturday night when the beer still had character and the dvd players used to eat discs whole
that choke in rio though, mate—you could feel the room tilt when his grip locked in, not a single fucker in the crowd breathed for three seconds straight, and when the ref’s arm went up it was like someone flicked a switch—suddenly the whole universe was just panpinha in a bright singlet and our voices bouncing off the rafters like we were twelve again watching roberto duran put sugar ray to sleep in panama
the way he walked into that one, you could see it in his eyes—no flash, no unnecessary drama, just two hands and a prayer that one day this kid from nowhere would carry us all home. and he bloody did. proper underdog story, the kind that makes you believe in miracles again, even when your knees are creaking like a ship’s wheel in a storm
Seen it all, lads.
That time Panpinha choked a guy in the street during a bar crawl, got nicked, and came out the next day with a court summons still in his pocket while the guy he choked was singing “ole” off the roof — absolute legend territory 🏆🤣😂🍿