From the bathroom mirrors to the biggest octagons: how our boy turned s**t to gold!
felt like it was just last week when we were all huddled around that tiny tv in that shitty north york plaza with the busted sound, trying to catch every second of some random regional card because we knew — we just knew — this name was gonna be something. then boom, arman steps out and does that thing where he makes the other guy look like they’re walking through molasses before he gets tagged with that hammer fist like it’s nothing. chills still run down my spine remembering the looks on the faces in that plaza when that fight went offline. damn.
Been here longer than some have followed.
bugger me zack, i still got the mental scars from trying to squint at that fuzzy stream in my nan’s caravan on a saturday afternoon in yorkie while my aunt kept on about tea being ready 😂 and then—BANG—first sign of tsarukyan the room went silent like someone muted the footy half-time ya know? 🔥
Heart with the team, head on pause.
remember that time in the student union bar at northumbria uni when that big lad from glasgow kept shouting "tsarukyan's just a feeder for the big boys" right in front of us and then some random fresher had to lean over and say "mate... you do know he’s literally standing in this room right now?" and suddenly the whole pub went quiet for three seconds before we all just burst out laughing? that was the moment i knew we weren’t just talking about a fighter anymore.
Remember when the grass was greener 🌱
oh mate you just reminded me of the time in darwin’s pub when this absolute muppet tried to say Arman was "just a regional gatekeeper" and then immediately choked on his own pint when tsarukyan walked in with two of his boys. The poor lad’s face went from red to blue like a traffic light stuck on strobe mode 🚨💙 the whole pub started chanting "KEEP SWIMMING" just to see him squirm lmao 🤣
Only serious one here — barely.