Written by LineStar contributor, combat sports enthusiast, and practitioner, Chris Guy. Instagram: @therealsethgeko | Twitter: @DadHallOfFamer

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Main Card

Sean Strickland (+225) vs. Fluffy Hernandez (-280)

Strickland: DK: $7.1k | Fluffy: DK:$9.1k

A few weeks ago, my wife asked me how often I think about the Roman Empire. I said, “Not as often as I think about what life would be like if we all had a little bit of Sean Strickland in us. She said, “That’s kinda gross.” To which I replied, “No Diddy.” My point was that banal, monotonous day-to-day life would be far more interesting if there were a vintage, shit-talking Sean Strickland manifested within us that reared his alopecia-stricken head from time to time. Imagine you’re at Subway watching a guy who looks like the Simpsons Aztec theater box office worker skimping on the condiments. Suddenly, the little Sean Strickland on your shoulder takes over, “C’mon, buddy! That’s all you got!? You fookin’ @#$%! Put some fookin’ dressing on that bish!” You’ll be eating that sandwich with a soup spoon by the time you walk out. Now you’re at the company Annual Kickoff conference, and Tony Robbins is the guest motivational speaker. The little Sean Strickland starts whispering in your ear. You stand up, cup your hands over your mouth like a makeshift megaphone, and yell, “Let's fookin’ go! C’mon, with your ol’ big-ass NBA Jam cheat code head! Let’s fookin’ go! Motivate my ass, motherf*#ker!”   

Old-school, shit-talking Sean Strickland: I miss that guy. He was the one who paved the way for future shit-talkers like Kevin Holland. My man was a shit-talking pioneer. I might not be standing here today typing if it weren't for Sean Strickland breaking down the barriers of civility within the Octagon. Strickland’s shit-talking gave him an edge; it became his special power. Imagine you’re getting punched in the face, and this guy is standing there laughing at you and calling you vulgar terms for female anatomy. And the more you try to shut him up, the more you miss and the more gassed you get. How do you train for a guy like Sean Strickland—to get your ass kicked and be ridiculed at the same time?  

I say all that to say this: Bring back Shit-Talking Sean Strickland. I want Strickland mic’d up like NFL players so we can hear him call Fluffy a hippy barista-looking MF—hear Strickland ask Fluffy what time his parents are picking him up from Hot Topic. Strickland was made for the UFC Apex. I want to hear the impact of every strike and every insult. They can even send Anik, DC, and Dominick Cruz home early; Strickland will handle his own commentating duties.   

But Strickland isn’t just a great shit-talker; he’s also a pretty good fighter, a former champion lest you forget. His unique boxing style (unique for MMA at least) changed the course of the middleweight division. He’s a rare defensive fighter who turns defense into offense. Strickland may be the only MMA fighter to effectively adapt the Philly Shell for MMA. I called him the Floyd Mayweather of MMA on the WKO long before it became cool. This guy dodges punches like he’s Patches O’Houlihan’s prized student. If you can dodge a wrench, you can dodge a fist. Strickland could dodge the Ep$t3in files if he were a billionaire or politician. Homie dodges punches like an Attorney General dodges questions under oath. He could dodge shit if he were Johnny Depp’s comforter. It’s like he’s wearing a wire under his shorts and has to beg his corner not to rip them off as he rounds third base after a walk-off KO. Not only is his shoulder roll impenetrable, but his anticipation is so keen that it looks like someone is tipping his opponents’ punches. 

If he can stay upright, he will box Fluffy Hernandez’s face... off. Strickland’s only major malfunction is that he’s one dimensional. Other than an occasional Royce Gracie teep kick, Strickland is all boxing. He’s a volume arm-puncher who averages six SLpM. Strickland overwhelms with volume, not power. The big question is, can he stay on his feet? 

Because Fluffy Hernandez is a rolling, rolling stone. He rolled away one day, and he never came home. Yo, DJ! Hit that Sublime “Same in the End!” Dricus Du Plessis took Strickland down six times in their first fight. Fluffy Hernandez has infinitely better wrestling/grappling than DDP. This is the fookin’ guy who submitted the Jitz God, Jitz God. All my baristas from the front to the back nod, back nod. Don’t let Fluffy’s non-threatening looks fool you; this guy is the dark horse of the division despite looking like his day job is collecting change from public fountains. Homie is a wish thief. You can catch him at your local shopping plaza with a net and bucket. Watching this guy kick ass is like watching a used lawnmower salesman dunk on Shaq on an episode of Pros vs. Joes. Like watching Forrest Gump beat Usain Bolt in the one hundred meters. You just don’t expect a guy who looks like Fluffy to kick so much ass.  

In addition to averaging four and a half SLpM, Fluffy also averages six and a half takedowns per fifteen minutes. And Strickland defends at a solid seventy-five percent. Fluffy is one of the few fighters willing to sacrifice control for landing ground and pound. Probably because he knows he can take you down again if you scramble to your feet. But the key for Fluffy will be his striking. Fluffy’s striking is awkward like Men’s Luge Doubles. How did those guys even figure out they were good at that? Imagine their parents walking in on them practicing in the summer. Anywho, Fluffy ain’t no crumb bum on his feet, but he’s defensively flawed. His striking is good enough that he doesn’t have to chase takedowns. But he doesn’t want to stand and trade with Strickland for long stretches. Fluffy will use heavy pressure to force Strickland against the cage, where Fluffy can tie him up and drag him to the mat.   

The odds are a little wild. I had this one pegged much closer with Fluffy being the slight favorite. But Fluffy is the (-280) favorite, and Strickland is the (+230) live-ass dog. It’s been a year since Strickland lost the rematch to DDP. That’s his longest layoff in several years. I think it will serve Strickland well after fighting nothing but killers for a couple of years straight. He has the style to weather Fluffy’s ground game and chip away over twenty-five minutes. The championship rounds were made for fighter’s like Strickland who tend to get stronger as the fight progresses. There is value in a finish both ways—a TKO/KO for Strickland and a submission for Fluffy. Fluffy has noine career subs, while Strickland has never been submitted. But if anybody can do it, it’s the guy who submitted the Jitz God. But I like playing this one for a decision. Both guys are tougher than Mammy’s pot roast. 

We did it, homies. We finally ended the main event L streak after a magical week. Thank you, Mario Bautista. But winning two in a row won’t be easy. I’ve had two weeks to think this one over, and I’m still stumped. I think Fluffy is on a roll. He would have walked through Renier de Ridder had an injury not forced him out of that fight. Unlike DDP, Fluffy is a different breed on the mat, a perfect combination of ground and pound and submission hunting. Fluffy Hernandez via decision. Put that shit on wax.  

Props

Fluffy: TKO/KO (+600) Sub (+275) Dec (+125)  

Strickland: TKO/KO (+700) Sub (+4000) Dec (+400) 

Winner: Fluffy Hernandez | Method: Decision

Geoff Neal (-220) vs. Uros Medic (+180)

Neal: DK: $8.7k | Medic: DK: $7.5k

Can I interest anyone in a Striker’s Delight? Hit that LL Cool J “Mama Said Knock You Out!” Geoff Neal is gonna knock you out! Uros Medic said, "Knock you out!” One of these guys will be looking like Monday morning when the alarm goes off after this one. These guys throw hands like Uncle Rico throws footballs. Geoff Neal—don’t you dare call him Jeff Neil—is finally taking a slight step down in competition after fighting nothing but monsters like Geralt of Rivia. That’s not a Uros Medic diss track either. Lately, actual medics have spent more time inside the cage strapping Medic’s opponents to gurneys and carrying them out than he has. Homie has won three of his last four, and all ended in the first round. If there is any of the Geoff Neal who fought Shavkat left, this fight could steal the show.    

Geoff is on a bit of a skid. He lost three of his last four, and he’s coming in off a spinning back elbow KO loss to Carlos Prates. Prates sat Neal down like Chris Hansen walked into the room, “Take a seat, Jeff.”  

“It’s Geoff.”  

Neal looked like he slipped in the shower after eating that elbow. But there’s no shame in that. If I got KO’d by Prates, I’d write it all over my car windows like soccer moms do minivans when their kids make the all-star team. Then there was the Shavkat fight... I was offended by what Shavkat did to Geoff that night. My Pops used to do me like that when I talked back. There were protests outside the arena after that choke. But Geoff is still standing here screaming, “Fook the Free World!” You can expect one of two things from a Geoff Neal fight: One, he will run over the opponent like Suge Knight valeting cars, or two, he will do just enough to lose. There’s no “just right” porridge with Neal. He either comes out NBA Jam on fire, or just smolders for fifteen minutes like incense, doing just enough to stink up the room.   

But Neal’s left hand will always keep him in a fight. His left hand is like the Independence Day spaceship beams that destroy all the major cities. The arena looks like Silent Hill, ash falling perpetually like confetti, when he lands his left hand. The Anatomy of an Ass-Kicking: Geoff Neal sets it off like Queen Latifa with round kicks to the body, then wades in with left hands on repeat. Neal is a classic Gus Fring fighter. It’s like he’s missing half of his body. Neal is a Flanders Leftorium striker: All Left Everything. The game plan against Medic is to move forward. Be First & Be Often. He has to lead the dance, or he will slowly fall behind and find a way to lose a close decision.  

That’s if Uros doesn’t serve him like one with a side of fries and extra tzatziki. Speaking of “serving.” This guy has been rolling up on me like DoorDash and serving me my own words. All I do is pick against him, and all he does is win. I just don’ttrust his ground game. Even if he isn’t fighting a grappler. Homie combines a fifty-five percent takedown defense with a ground game like a vegetable—as in pulling the plug. Homie has that Do Not Resuscitate ground game. They read him his last rites, and his family starts fighting over his will as soon as his ass touches the mat. That’s why I consistently doubt Medic. He doesn’t look like an MMA fighter to me. He looks like a dangerous striker, but a mid-MMA fighter.   

But I can’t knock the hustle. Medic has been kicking so much ass lately that his homies from the Far East let him keep his shoes on in the house because his feet stink. His special move is that he looks like a Cricket Wireless shift manager, and his opponents get to thinking shit’s sweet. This guy will kick you in the head and give you a free upgrade and an extra line for your troubles. Medic uses a bladed Karate stance, and his punches are straighter than freeways in Kansas. Not to mention, Medic is fast as fook, boooooy! I don’t think you have any idea how fast he really is. Speed and long straight punches; that’s a deadly combination like Taco Bell and Port-O-Potties (Port-O-Johns if you want to be a Richard about it). Medic’s advantage against Neal will be at range. He doesn’t want to extend combinations in the pocket with Neal. Medic can use his length to dominate from the fringe of the pocket. 

Neal will be the (-185) favorite, and Medic will be the (+160) live-ass dog. Geoff is the favorite because of the level of competition he has faced. This will be Medic’s toughest test. Other than that, this is an even fight. Both fighters are southpaws and average five SLpM. Fantasy-wise, this will be a good fight to target as these guys throw for volume. I think Medic’s speed gives him a better shot at an early finish, but I think this one will go the distance. They're both technical strikers with good defense. Damn, this one is tough... I still have a little faith in Geoff Neal. Geoff Neal via decision. On wax.  

Props

Neal: TKO/KO (-135) Sub (+1400) Dec (+800) 

Medic: TKO/KO (+225) Sub (+2000) Dec (+1200)

Winner: Geoff Neal | Method: Decision

Dan Ige (+170) vs. Mel Costa (-205)

Ige: DK: $7.3k | Costa: DK:$8.9k

First off, shout out to whoever coined Mel Costa’s official nickname “The Dalmatian.” If you don’t know, Costa has Vitiligo. Mel Costa looks like a walking Rorschach test. In my experience, you shouldn’t mess with kids who have Vitiligo; they generally have a short fuse.  

“Hey, how’s the reception out there?” 

“A little spotty.” 

“You motherf*#ker!”  

You know what they say: A Mel Costa can’t change his spots. He is what he is. And what he is, I’m not exactly sure. He excels at everything but stands out in nothing. His style is like eating Flan; it’s just whatever. Costa has solid, technical stand-up, and his left leg is a nifty Swiss Army Knife that he uses to throw teeps and round kicks. But overall, he’s not that impressive like Michelangelo’s David’s David. Costa has occasional mean streaks but often remains even-tempered and doesn’t fight with a high sense of urgency. His style is like buying a stock sports car: you look pretty cool smoking minivans and Priuses off the line until you run into a Tesla Model 6 or a Ford GT. He seems to be just good enough to take advantage of his opponents’ weaknesses.   

In this case, his opponent’s weakness is his ground game. Costa’s path to victory against Dan Ige is GPS-assisted, with turn-by-turn directions to help him get his hand raised. I’m old enough to remember when you had to use MapQuest to plot your paths to victory—the younger generation will never understand the struggle. Ige rocks a fifty-six percent takedown defense, while Costa averages just under two takedowns per fifteen minutes. Costa could play with fire and stand and trade with Ige, or he could play it smart and put Ige on his back and ride out top control to a boring dub. The one thing Costa won’t do is finish Dan Ige. Why? Because nobody can finish Dan Ige. 

Ige is still waiting to meet the MF who can knock him out. Where is he? Saying you saw Ige get his ass kicked is like saying you saw a Sinbad movie called Shazaam. It’s an implanted memory – some Mandela Effect type-shit. It never happened. Ige usually loses to wrestlers who can hold him down for fifteen to twenty-five minutes. He has ten career Ls, and they all came via decision. That includes a fight against the two-time title challenger Diego Lopes, a fight that Ige accepted on fifteen minutes’ notice. Ige fooked around and almost got a triple-double that night, nearly stealing the fight in the final round. After that fight, Ige contemplated moving up to heavyweight after his balls grew to gigantic proportions. He walked around looking like he had Lizzo caught in a triangle choke.  

They call Ige “50k,” but lately he has been more like 15k Ige, AKA Ige after taxes. In his previous fight against Pitbull Fereire, I thought Ige was a better version of Pitbull. But Ige came out looking more like the rapper Pitbull than the long-time Bellator Champion. Ige used to have that veiny Quagmire right hand that could put anybody to sleep. But now it seems like it may have atrophied; it’s looking skinny and pale, like when a cast is removed. It just doesn’t seem to have the same pop that it used to. But the game plan remains the same: Stay upright and land the right hand. If he can do that, Ige will beat Costa. Although Costa is a more diverse striker, Ige is far more battle-tested, and even his diminished power dwarf’s Costa’s like Lollipop Guild auditions.   

“Sideshow” Mel Costa is the (-215) favorite, and I couldn’t drop an Andy Jack on Dan Ige fast enough as the (+180) live-ass dog. Costa will have to dominate the top position for long stretches. At some point, Costa’s takedowns will fail. That will be Ige’s time to shine. This is the exact level of competition that Ige dominates. His last win came against the human hieroglyph, Sean Woodson, who is close to Costa’s level. Costa’s wrestling is far from dominant. Granted, it doesn’t have to be to dominate Ige. But I think Ige will be able to spend enough time on his feet to eke this one out. The play for Costa is a decision. I like playing Ige for a late TKO/KO. Never forget the time Steve Garcia served Costa like a bar and grill. Garcia beat Costa by TKO in the second round. Give me the dog. Dan Ige via TKO, round three. Put that shit on wax.    

Props

Ige: TKO/KO (+400) Sub (+1600) Dec (+500)

Costa: TKO/KO (+900) Sub (+1400) Dec (-145)

Winner: Dan Ige | Method: TKO Rd.3

Sergei Spivak (+125) vs. Ante Delija (-150)

Spivak: DK: $7.6k | Delija: DK: $8.6k

This is the essence of a striker vs. grappler matchup. If Sergei Spivak can’t get you down (literally you reading this), he can’t beat you. Hold up... hey! Didn’t you pick Spivak to beat Ciryl Gane not too long ago?  

Listen, I don’t say things just to say things. What am I gonna do, just all of a sudden jump up and pick Spivak to beat Ciryl Gane like it’s something to do? C’mon, I have a little more sense than that... Yeah, I remember saying Spivak via rear-naked choke, round two – put it on wax. Sativa is a helluva herb. But we win, or we learn here at the WKO. I learned Spivak is like Life of Pi on the feet. Life of Spivak. Homie is stranded, lost at sea on his feet, and it’s only a matter of time until he succumbs to starvation/dehydration, gets eaten by the tiger, or jumps in the water with the sharks. Spivak is Dre Stranded on Death Row on the feet. His main problem is his hand speed. Or lack of. His hands have intermissions on their way to the target. His hands come in three acts like a Shakespeare play. Spivak’s striking is only a formality before taking the fight to the mat. Homie has stoned hands, not hands of stone.   

But if this guy gets you on the mat, “Wrap it up, B.” As soon as Spivak takes you down, your boss posts a job opening on Indeed. Spivak’s specialty is clinch takedowns. He has more trips than Autumn—more trips than vacations. Homie folds you like Olive Garden napkins and packs you like carry-ons. He rag-dolls you. He Real Dolls you - turns you into a Meek Mill Real Doll and throws a Bad Boy chain on. And like Diddy’s first album, there’s No Way Out. Unless the round ends, or you join one of his seven career TKO/KOs or eight career submissions. 

Ante Delija has yet to face a takedown attempt in his short two-fight UFC career. That’ll change against Spivak. He may face more takedown attempts against Spivak than he has in his entire thirty-three-fight career. This guy is like the BrandonWeeden of the UFC. Weeden was twenty-eight years old when he was drafted into the NFL. Delija was thirty-five and at the twilight of his career when he finally got the call-up to the big leagues. In his previous fight against the 2025 WKO Fighter of the Year, Waldo Acosta, Delija broke into the Dub World Bank and made off with an L. He stole an L as if it were a catalytic converter. He left the dub sitting on cinderblocks. Homie got into a firefight with Acosta and tried to eye poke his way out. 

But all that is 2025 shit, AKA old shit. Quit playing and hit that M.O.P. “Ante Up!” Ante up like Shohei’s manager attending poker night at Chauncey Billups’s crib. Fighting Delija is like entering a rodeo; surviving eight seconds is considered a dub. I call Delija PlayStation One graphics Cain Velasquez. My man has that ol’ polygon head. Delija’s fights are quicker than the time it takes a Pop-Tart to burn in the toaster—about fifteen seconds, and your house is on fire. Ante is anti-decision. He’s 26-7 with thirteen TKOs/KOs and six subs.   

As soon as the bell rings, Ante wastes no time applying foot to ass. He comes out swinging like Hulk Hogan on a yacht. In his debut, Delija turned Marcin Tybura into Syko Stu. Tybura looked like he thought that shit was kayfabe. Delija’s style is like doing noinety in a school zone. Homie motorboats punches, and we ain’t talking about what you’re thinking. It looks like Delija is hitting a speed bag while sprinting across the cage. His fights are like old-school Black Friday videos when the doors opened at midnight, and everyone would stampede to get a fifty percent off TV after the price doubled the day before. Delija’s kryptonite is tepidly paced fights. He struggles when he can’t overwhelm with aggression, and the fight falls into a technical back-and-forth affair.   

Delija is the (-155) favorite, and Spivak is the (+135) live-ass dog. It only takes one takedown for Spivak to finish a fight. But if he struggles to get Delija to the mat, Delija will dominate the stand-up, and it will only be a matter of time until he finishes Spivak. The play for Spivak is a submission. Delija has only been subbed once in his career, but Spivak is one of the best wrestlers/grapplers Delija has faced. Fantasy-wise, this one will be a pivotal matchup. One of these guys will score a finish. Spivak can flip the board with one collar tie trip against the cage. But I can’t trust a guy who has lost three of his last four. Ante Delija via TKO, round two. On wax.   

Props

Delija: TKO/KO (+110) Sub (+1600) Dec (+600)  

Spivak: TKO/KO (400) Sub (+500) Dec (+550)

Winner: Ante Delija | Method: TKO Rd.2

Michel Pereira (-155) vs. Zachary Reese (+130)

Pereira: DK: $8.5k | Reese: DK: $7.7k

There were early signs that Michel Pereira was a Toyota Frontrunner. He lost his second UFC bout to a grown man named Tristan. In my day, kids named Tristan used inhalers, and they didn’t even have asthma. Tristans were the only kids to strike out playing kickball. After beating Michel Pereira, Tristan Connelly was inducted into the Tristan Hall of Fame, receiving more votes than Tristan Thompson. Fast forward to 2026, and Pereira has lost three in a row. A fourth straight loss after reeling off eight straight dubs seems unfathomable.  

Yo! Hit that NF “I Miss The Days!” I miss the days when Michel Pereira won a fight and a gold medal at the same time. Pereira would get on his Simone Biles shit and do an entire Olympic floor routine in the middle of the fight. Homie would literally swing from the chandeliers like Sia. Superman punches off the cage, Anthony Pettis Showtime Kicks, and backflip guard passes were all once in Pereira’s fundamental repertoire. Prime Michel Pereira was a straight-up Tekken character busting out Capoeira dances. Pereira’s ass-whoopins came made-to-order. 

“Welcome to Pereira’s. Would you like to try our new Guile Flash Kick KO? 

“No thank you. Can I have the 360 flying knee TKO but hold the backflip double foot stomp guard pass? 

“Yes, Sir. Please pull up to the second window.” 

Prime Pereira would walk through Zachary Reese like beaded curtains. But Pereira is in his prime like even numbers. My man has forty-five career fights. Although he’s only thirty-two years old, he’s about noinety seven in fight years. As seems to be the theme with many fighters on this card, if Pereira stays on his feet he will win this fight.  

Zachary Reese is the human version of the San Die—I mean, LA Chargers. He scores a touchdown on the opening drive, then gets shut out the rest of the game. Homie goes from zero to sixty in two seconds, but his top speed is only fifty-five. Wait a minute... Zach’s fights are so ugly that they make Travis Hunter look like a Gucci model. I thought he was a grappler before his debut. And maybe he is. But his fights don’t last long enough to find out. His two career losses came via first-round KO. Other than an early, dangerous burst of aggression, Zachary strikes like an intentional walk. He fights like a wind-up toy. He starts out throwing bombs and knees, but then quickly runs out of steam. Then you have to wind him back up. 

Reese’s special power is fooking up your parlay. He’ll fook up a parlay quicker than Indian street food will fook up your guts. I’m talking about using toenails to chop onions type of shit. When you pick him to win, his fight gloves turn into fingerless biker gloves. I’m talking about spandex and clickity-clack shoes, bikers, and not Hell’s Angels bikers. This guy got Ricardo Arona power bomb KO’d by Cody Brundage. That shit looked like backyard wrastlin’, using a soiled twin mattress as a ring. Reese averages nearly three and a half takedowns per minute, while Pereira defends at seventy-six percent. It won’t be easy, but if Reese stays committed to relocating the fight, he can dominate Pereira from the top position. I don’t like his chances if he gets stuck striking past the opening minutes.    

Pereira will be the (-160) favorite, and Reese will be the (+135) live-ass dog. The main card is filled with live-ass dogs. Reese just finds ways to win, especially when you pick against him. It’s never pretty, but we never apologize for dubs at the WKO, even if you have to brown bag them once in a while. The play for this fight is a finish: Zachary Reese by rear-naked choke, or Michel Pereira via TKO/KO. There is also value in a decision, should they both gas out early and have to be carried to the finish line. Damn, this one is tough. And it shouldn’t be. Give me Michel Pereira via TKO, round two. Wax on, wax off.   

Props

Pereira: TKO/KO (+150) Sub (+550) Dec (+550)  

Reese: TKO/KO (+300) Sub (+700) Dec (+600)

Winner: Michel Pereira | Method: TKO Rd.2

Prelims

$7k Value Menu

Punahele Soriano ($7.9k): Puna Soriano cracks like pinkies and single-ply TP. Soriano vs. Brahimaj will see the return of Soriano, the striker. Lately, Soriano has turned into a mid-wrestler, relying on top control to eke out close fights. He won’t be able to rely on his wrestling against the far better grappler Ramiz Brahimaj. And that will be a good thing. Soriano is far more dangerous as a striker, especially since dropping down to welterweight. He will dominate the striking if he can keep the fight standing. And that’s a big if. Puna’s major weakness is his takedown defense, which is an embarrassing forty percent. The good news is, Puna is good at scrambling back to his feet. The key for Puna will be not giving up his back during transitions. Brahimaj is a back specialist, and I ain’t talking chiropractors. Puna’s upside is a TKO/KO finish. Brahimaj can’t stand with him if the takedown well dries up.   

Uros Medic ($7.5k): Geoff Neal can’t be trusted. Too often, Neal looks like he made a wrong turn in Albuquerque and just happened to stumble into the cage. If Jeff Neil shows up on Saturday night, Uros Medic will run over him like Dwayne Haskins. Medic is faster and longer than Neal, and he has far less mileage on his chin. Medic averages over five and a half SLpM, and all five of his UFC wins came via TKO/KO. He even had a TKO on the Contender Series. Even without a finish, Medic can put up valuable striking stats. The key for Medic will be controlling range and avoiding getting drawn into the pocket, thereby avoiding lures into a firefight. He will have a big advantage on the outside, using his long limbs to keep Neal at bay. 

Sean Strickland ($7.1k): Strickland is a walking one hundred strikes landed. Strickland hovered around one hundred fifty strikes landed in six of his last seven bouts. Even in losing efforts against DDP, Strickland landed well over one hundred strikes. He landed one hundred eighty-two strikes in the first matchup, even after being taken down six times. Strickland has only been finished once in his career, and one of those came against Alex Pereira. I like Strickland’s chances of keeping the fight competitive until the final bell. And should Fluffy run into a takedown wall, Strickland will take over the stand-up. Don’t underestimate Stickland’s anti-wrestling. He doesn’t waste time on his back. As soon as his ass hits the mat, he’s scrambling back to his feet. This will be a high-output scrap for both fighters.  

 $6k Clearance Rack  

Josiah Harrell ($6.9k): The Clearance Rack is filled with less-than-appetizing options this week. They are all hours away from reaching their sell-by dates. If you find yourself sifting through them, reconsider your life’s choices. Josiah Harrell has a crazy story. He was signed by the UFC in 2023 to make a short-notice debut against Jack Della Maddalena. A pre-fight physical revealed that he had a rare brain disease and had to undergo brain surgery. Now he's back, making another short-notice debut against another highly touted prospect. Josiah is 11-0 and has won four fights since the procedure. He will be a heavy dog against Jacobe Smith. But what can a man do to you when you’ve been through brain surgery? My man is playing with house money. A man with nothing to lose is always a dangerous man.   

Twenty-Twen-Twen Sleepers

Chidi Njokuani (+110): Chidi Bang Bang is back. This dude is a head-scratcher—a bit of an underachiever. You see this guy’s striking and wonder how he isn’t headlining main events. He has all the weapons on his feet to stand and bang with almost anyone in the division. Never forget the time he opened a six-lane highway between Gregory Rodrigues’s eyebrows with a knee. He had Rodrigues looking like a morbid Frida with a grotesque unibrow. Yeah, yeah; Chidi went on to lose that fight. But the point is that Chidi is dangerous on his feet. His opponent, Carlos Leal, is a nasty MF in his own right. But Chidi’s experience against some of the best fighters in the welterweight division is far superior to Leal’s. Leal will likely try to wrestle early, but I think this will settle into a kickboxing match. And Chidi’s range and speed should give him an advantage.   

Uros Medic (+175): I’m picking Geoff Neal to win this fight, but I don’t feel good about it. The value for this fight is a Medic TKO/KO. Too often, Neal disappears in the middle of fights if he bothers to show up at all. When Neal is on his game, he is a bad mother-shut-your-mouf. He went toe-to-toe with Shavkat. Even though Neal lost that fight by submission, it was his best performance inside the Octagon. But he hasn’t been able to find that version of himself since. I think Medic could be getting Neal at the right time. Medic has won two in a row and three of his last four. The only knock against him is his ground game. He won’t have to worry about his ground game in this matchup.  

Sean Strickland (+225): Strickland will be in this fight until the end. Even if he spends long stretches on his back or tied up against the cage. Strickland is a natural-born ass-kicker. He wakes up and eats ass for breakfast... Wait what? You know what I mean. Kicking ass is the first thing on his mind when he wakes up and the last thing on his mind when he goes to sleep. His dreams are just a parade of asses waiting to be kicked. Most people count sheep, but this guy counts ass. IDK if I’m doing him justice here. But trust me when I tell you that Sean Strickland can beat Fluffy Hernandez. He can force extended stand-up exchanges between Fluffy’s takedown attempts. And the stand-up will be all Strickland. He might even make Fluffy look silly on his feet.   

Pick ‘Em

Jacobe Smith (-285) vs. Josiah Harrell (+235) 

 Winner: Jacobe Smith 

Method: Decision 

Chidi Njokuani (+110) vs. Carlos Leal (-130)  

 Winner: Chidi Njokuani 

Method: Decision 

Ode Osbourne (+110) vs. Alibi Idiris (-130)  

 Winner: Ode Osbourne 

Method: Decision 

Alden Coria (-285) vs. Luis Gurule (+235) 

 Winner: Alden Coria 

Method: Decision 

Nora Cornolle (+255) vs. Joselyne Edwards (-310)   

 Winner: Joselyne Edwards 

Method: Decision 

Ramiz Brahimaj (-130) vs. Punahele Soriano (+110)   

 Winner: Ramiz Brahimaj 

Method: Rear-Naked Choke Rd.2 

Philip Rowe (+175) vs. Jean Leboznoyani (-205)  

 Winner: Jean Leboznoyani 

Method: TKO Rd.2 

Jordan Leavitt (-430) vs. Yadier Del Valle (+320)   

 Winner: Yadier Del Valle 

Method: TKO Rd.2 

Juliana Miller (+575) vs. Carli Judice (-900)   

 Winner: Carli Judice 

Method: TKO Rd.3 

Thanks for reading LineStar Weekly Knockout! We'll be back next Thursday with another one. Until then, good luck and support your local MMA Gym.

About Me

My name is Chris Guy, and I’m an avid combat sports enthusiast and practitioner. I’ve been a fan of MMA since the early 2000s when Limewire was still around, and I downloaded Bas Rutten’s Big Book of Combat. In 2004, I started training Muay Thai at City Boxing in San Diego, CA. I competed as an amateur for many years, and I've also dabbled in Jiu-Jitsu. I follow many different disciplines, such as Combat Ji-Jitsu, Muay Thai, Glory Kickboxing, Boxing, and MMA.

I’m equally as enthusiastic about the craft of writing, and in addition to writing about combat sports, I also write short fiction and music. I hope to bring unique prose to sports writing, and along the way, encourage people to not only become Martial Arts fans but to also become Martial Artists themselves.

In the future, you may see me refer to the Thunderdome; it's an ode to the old Mad Max movie and refers to the world-class training facility I built in my one-car garage. It's complete with throw dummies, wrestling mats, heavy bags, and six months' worth of Chef Boyardee cans from when I thought the world was going to end back in March.

I hope you enjoy my work, and if you don’t, the Thunderdome has an open door policy.