UFC 334: Сирил Ган маргаан дагуулсан ялалт байгуулж, Стивен Томпсон карьераа амжилттай өндөрлөв

UFC 334 delivered two very different types of “and still” performances in a pair of title fights. Here are the five biggest takeaways from Saturday’s event in Madison Square Garden:

Ciryl Gane continues to put the disputed in “undisputed” UFC champ — but in such interesting ways. First he finds a way to benefit from an egregious, career-altering eye poke against Tom Aspinall. Then he knocks out Alex Pereira at the White House amid some complaints about illegal strikes. Now he wins a close decision over Josh Hokit with seemingly the whole of Madison Square Garden united against him. And, oh yeah, he threw in an early eye poke there too, because why not dance with who brung ya?

But can we admit that, in the big picture sense, Gane was just the better fighter? Josh Hokit might have been more aggressive, but what’s that worth when it means marching face-first into punches for the better part of five rounds? Gane’s defensive wrestling has clearly improved, and here he showed he can fight on the retreat and maintain a high pace through the championship rounds. Fans don’t have to like it, but at this point maybe they do need to respect it.

Something tells me that’s not the last time Hokit will fight for a UFC title. It’s worth remembering that he has just 11 pro MMA fights to his credit. He also didn’t fight anyone who really mattered until about six months ago. That adds up to equal a man who’s still a work in progress at just shy of 30 years old, so maybe we shouldn’t be all that shocked if he fought like someone with more enthusiasm than sense at some points here.

It’s tough sometimes to see through the persona to the athlete beneath. Hokit goes to such great lengths to present himself as a heavyweight jester that it can be hard to picture him as a potential king. But still, there’s a certain diamond-in-the-rough quality here. We look at him and see what he could become if he were to put it all together. It’s just that we don’t know when that might happen. Though we do know it wasn’t Saturday.

Did Kayla Harrison win that fight, or did Amanda Nunes lose it? I’m still not sure. In the early going, Nunes seemed to be having her way. But she couldn’t resist messing around with the clinch game, which gave Harrison all the opening she needed to claw her way back into it at some key moments.

It’s tricky, because you don’t want to deny Harrison the credit for beating the GOAT of women’s MMA. But watching the fight, it felt like Nunes was right there on the verge of winning it — if only she could stay out of her own way.

Was it a consequence of all the time off since her retirement? Could this have been the dreaded ring rust (or, as the great Mauro Ranallo would say, cage corrosion)? Physically, Nunes seemed to have Harrison’s number. Strategically, she was her own worst enemy. But then maybe sometimes this sport is a battle between you and your own worst ideas. Nunes lost that battle this time.

Let’s just be honest and admit we’ll probably never see anything quite like Stephen “Wonderboy” Thompson ever again. A karate-based fighter with an aw-shucks vibe and stubborn longevity through multiple eras of the sport? Yeah, that’s not something you see every day.

Thompson broke into the UFC in 2012. At the time, it seemed almost quaint. Look at this guy doing moves out “Mighty Morphin Power Rangers” in a sport that had long since moved past the days when strip mall black belts had any chance of success. But he made it work. And he kept making it work. Right up to this spinning heel kick victory in Madison Square Garden at the age of 43.

That’s about as fairy tale an exit as anyone ever gets in this brutal, blood-and-guts world. If there’s anyone who deserves it, it’s probably Thompson.

Did anyone else catch just how weird things got at the end of that Kevin Holland vs. Uros Medic fight? After three close rounds and one point deduction, the result was a majority draw amid scores that didn’t seem to add up. Initially, the broadcast team appeared to be determined to get to the bottom of it. Then, like someone flipped a light switch, all three commentators suddenly shifted into a completely different mode and nothing more was said on the matter.

That’s weird, right? It sure felt weird as a viewer. It was jarring, like having some voice we couldn’t hear (but the commentators could) directing traffic away from the thing that it made the most sense to discuss right then. It’s the kind of thing that reminds you how different things are in other sports where the league doesn’t control the broadcast — and why they came up with that system in the first place.