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

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Main Card 

Tai Tuivasa (-125) vs. Marcin Tybura (-105)

Tuivasa: DK: $8.3k | Tybura: DK:$7.9k

It's that time of year again. The Flying J/Love’s truck stop cross-promotional Heavyweight World Title is on the line. Hit that Kenny Loggins “Meet Me Half Way” and fire up the cross-country montage of Tai Tuivasa doing one-arm triceps extensions in the cab of his eighteen-wheeler. It’s been a long road. Tuivasa’s journey began on the bumpy terrain of a three-fight losing streak, then wound its way onto the flat open road of a five-fight winning streak. But if you check his Sherdog record, it looks like brake lights on the 405 freeway at rush hour. Tuivasa’s progress has been impeded once again by another three-fight losing streak. It seems Tuivasa is streakier than my five-year-old's Ninja Turtle underoos.   

Marcin Tybura is no stranger to the open road. Life is a Highway, and he wants to ride it all night long. This Saturday night, Tybura will be pulling up with Lightning McQueen in tow and a deep farmer’s tan on his left arm. After back-to-back wins against Ice Road Truckers, Tybura ran into mechanical problems somewhere in Iowa and stalled out on crossroads at the exact moment Tom Aspinall was speeding through. Aspinall quickly vacated the Love’s heavyweight belt and became the interim UFC champ. But one man’s schwag is another’s top-shelf. Tybura will have a chance to not only regain his Love’s belt but also unify it with the Flying-J belt Tuivasa has held since beating Harry Hunsucker 

This fight won’t be pretty but don’t you dare call it ugly. Like twenty-first-century Cowboys Super Bowls, boring Tai Tuivasa fights don’t exist. Tuivasa’s pronouns are Reckless/Abandon. Every exchange is like Homer Simpson jumping the gorge. He’s a daredevil striker, Evel Knievel, the MMA version. Bust out the black Nike Cortez; the arena looks like the Heaven’s Gate mansion by the end of every Tuivasa fight. Tuivasa throws hands like he trains at Slip Knot concerts. Twelve to six overhands from the windup are Tuivasa’s specialty. When he goes into the stretch, he switches up arm angles and throws three-quarters. Tui’s bombs don’t need to land clean; they clang off the temples, the top of the head, and behind the ears, and they obliterate hand guards when opponents shell up.   

What’s unique about Tai Tuivasa is that he’s the most dangerous when he’s on the brink of annihilation. He’s like Doc Holiday, most dangerous when he’s on his deathbed. Homie had TB and still blasted Johnny Ringo by the riverbed. Case in point: Tuivasa went out like Tony Montana against Ciryl Gane. He had Gane walking on hot coals in the second round; he fooked around and nearly caught a title fight. If Tuivasa is going out, he’s taking you with him. Tuivasa’s style is as straightforward as it gets; he does all his talking with his hands. And we ain’t talking sign language. Speaking of sign language, Tuivasa throws hands like a sign language interpreter at a Waka Flaka concert; he’s erratic, sporadic, automatic, and wants all the static. He fights like a Neanderthal, a prehistoric savage who orders his steaks at Outback only to be run through a warm room. Raw, he’s gonna give it to ya, with no trivia. Raw like cocaine straight from Bolivia.   

Tui is 14-6 in his career with thirteen career TKO/KOs, and he averages four SLpM with a career high of sixty-four. But that’s mostly because his fights don’t often see third rounds. In fourteen career UFC bouts, only two have gone to a decision, and five of his six career losses came via stoppage. His path to victory against Tybura is avoiding the clinch and throwing bombs. Tybura will likely want to put Tuivasa’s back against the cage and use his superior ground game to avoid Tuivasa’s car wrecks for hands. 

Marcin Tybura looks like a retired platform diver. He looks like a Treehouse of Horror Rafael Fiziev. He looks like an “It’s alive!” ass-mf, but don’t let that fool you; Marcin Tybura is actually quite average. He’s the reciprocal of Ken Shamrock, the Least Dangerous Man in the World. Tybura has a higher safety profile than Tylenol. On the feet, Tybura has a disoriented, drunken cadence. Like he’s walking the line and saying his ABCs backward. Tybura’s style is awkward, like making eye contact through the stall door. He uses makeshift survival Dominick Cruz footwork, including switch steps to change stances. He also pivots forward and backward in and out of the pocket while changing his offensive orientation. For a big man, Tybura actually has some nifty footwork and is quite good at entering the pocket at angles. But overall, Tybura has WWE striking, complete with chest chops and floor stomps. His punches are like fifty mph Tim Wakefield knuckleballs that you get tired of waiting on and swing at three times before they reach the plate.    

Tybura is at his best on the mat. As a Cowboys fan, my greatest moment in the last twenty years was when Tybura cracked Greg Hardy’s ass like the Liberty Bell. He weathered the early storm on the feet and dragged Hardy into shallow AB-infested waters, dominating the top position with heavy ground and pound. Although Tybura has six career subs, none came in the UFC; he tends to control the top position and chip away with elbows and short punches more than he hunts for submissions. His path to victory against Tuivasa will be in the clinch and scoring trip takedowns. But to do that, Tybura will have to survive heavy artillery fire, a Dresden-like bombard, to get on the inside. Tybura also needs to learn from Benoit St. Denis’ mistake last week and not allow himself to get drawn into extended exchanges at distance. The mindset has to be all wrestling/grappling everything. Of course, you know what that means. Marcin will win by a Dustin Poirier-like KO.   

Tybura is 24-8 with noine TKO/KOs and six subs and averages three and a half SLpM and just under one and a half takedowns per fifteen minutes. Tai Tuivasa rocks a fifty-four percent takedown defense and hasn’t fought a wrestler/grappler since 2020 when he gave up six takedowns to Sergey Spivak. He also gave up two takedowns to Derrick Lewis. Lewis’s only two career takedowns—don’t fact-check me on that. Tuivasa will be the slight (-125) favorite, and Tybura will be the (+105) dog. If Tuivasa keeps it standing, I think it’s only a matter of time until he lands a bomb. Tuivasa is the bigger finishing threat on the feet, and Tybura will need the top position on the mat to give himself the best chance to score a finish. I’ve got my eye on the odds for a decision one way or another. I could see both fighters going for broke early, fizzling out halfway, and crawling to the finish line.   

Last Saturday night was special. It was a career night, but more importantly, I got off the main event Schneid. It hurts that it had to come at the expense of a Chito Vera loss. As often happens with Chito, he found his groove too late. He had O’Malley in serious trouble at the final bell. But otherwise, O’Malley put on a five-round Master Class. This one is actually a tricky pick and not as clear-cut as I thought when I first saw this matchup. But at the end of the day, when it’s all said and done, everyone knows the real fighters are at the Flying J. Tai Tuivasa via TKO, round two. Put it on wax. 

Props 

Tuivasa: TKO/KO (+100) Sub (+2000) Dec (+1200)  

Tybura: TKO/KO (+225) Sub (+500) Dec (+650) 

Winner: Tai Tuivasa | Method: TKO Rd.2

Bryan Battle (-180) vs. Ange Loosa (+150)

Battle: DK: $8.6k | Loosa: DK: $7.6k

At first, I thought this was the co-main event for the prelims, but here we are. This fight is like taking the shortest and tallest guy on the team and making them do rebounding drills against each other. This one will look like a freshman and a senior scrapping it out in the quad while the kids gathered around block the yard duty from breaking it up too soon. Bryan Battle looks like The Biggest Loser’s biggest winner, like a chubby kid who got his revenge body and has been exacting it ever since. And Ange Loosa is built like Blanka, short and stout with a beast’s primal instincts. These guys are actually two solid fighters and easy to sleep on like a homie’s couch. 

Bryan Battle is back, complete with his Leatherface skin-feetie jammies. My man is out here looking like someone stretched out Mankind with a rolling pin. He even has the sock puppet touch of death in his right hand. Battle’s best weapon is that you take one look at him and bust out laughing like Charlie Murphy and his homies when Prince and his crew came out for the pick-up game wearing the same shit they had on in the club. He has that former bullied energy. He didn’t choose fighting; fighting chose him. Battle is all stand-up and very little ground game. On the feet, he likes to set the tone with a high volume of kicks before letting his puppet hands do the talking. Step one in a Bryan Battle ass whoopin’ is tenderizing the body with snap kicks and garnishing it with heavy round kicks. This guy goes full Salt Bae with his feets. And when the hands come down to defend the body, he starts serving you Original Recipe crispy boxing, complete with straight punches down the middle 

Stand-up-wise, Bryan Battle is a sleeper and often catches people thinking shit’s sweet, but his grappling ain’t it, ol’ hoss. I ain’t your ol’ hoss, boss. Battle’s ground game is on the Epstein client list, mad suspect. Rinat Fakhretdinov Alonzo’d Battle during their fight. “I didn’t know you liked to get wet, Bryan.” Bryan Battle has that presidential approval rating takedown defense, thirty-eight percent. All you have to do is think about taking him down. Against Rinat, Battle gave up seven takedowns and over fourteen minutes of control time. All but forty-five seconds of the fight while only recording three significant strikes. That’s a major red flag, even against a guy like Ange Loosa, who is far from a dominant wrestler but averages over two takedowns per fifteen minutes. Battle has to keep the fight standing and use his massive range to Sean O’Malley Loosa from the outside. For his career, Battle is 10-2 with three TKO/KOs and five subs and averages four and a half SLpM.   

Ange Loosa, aka Loosa Brasi, is tougher than well-done roadkill. This guy debuted on short notice against the highly touted elite kickboxer Mounir Lazzez and did more than hold his own. He then went on to win two fights in a row. Loosa fights like an old-school NES boss. He looks like King Koopa hurling hammers from across the cage at you. But like an NES boss, he has a specific cadence/pattern that you can figure out to beat him. He throws almost exclusively wide hooks and overhands; he’s on that Tre Styles shit, “I’m sick and tired of this shit!” He uses nifty rolls in and out of the pocket to load up his power shots incognito without providing a tell that he is doing so. Sprinkle me, mane. Sprinkle in some counterfeit Mike Tyson bobs and weaves, and Loosa is an underrated formidable striker that will catch you by the boo-boo if you get to half-steppin'.   

Overall, Loosa is a human whetstone that grinds you and files you like nails over the course of fifteen minutes. Even when he’s not throwing, Loosa keeps you on guard and never lets you rest physically or mentally by constantly moving and feinting. He stays active between exchanges and never allows you to reset. On top of going the distance with Mounir Lazzez, Loosa went the distance with Jack Della Soul on the Contender Series. You can beat Ange Loosa, but you won’t straight-up kick his ass back to the boondocks. The key for Loosa will be getting inside on Battle. I don’t know how the fook he will do that. He needs a Trojan horse; maybe make Battle an offering of a new skin vest, and when he lets his guard down, unload bombs and level changes. Loosa needs to use his wrestling, even if it's just to create the illusion of a takedown threat. What goes down doesn’t come back up when it comes to Bryan Battle on the mat.   

Loosa is 10-3 with five TKO/KOs and one sub and averages nearly six and a half SLpM. In his most recent bout against Rhys McKee, Loosa landed noinety-eight strikes, and in the bout before that, he landed one hundred twenty-noine. Even in a losing effort to Lazzez, Loosa landed eighty-eight significant strikes. Dude throws and forgets to ask questions later. Loosa’s Fantasy value will be in a high volume of strikes landed with some top control time if he can get inside and take down Battle. But a finish will be a long shot. 

Battle is the (-160) favorite, and Loosa is the (+130) live-ass dog. If Loosa can bully Battle against the cage and trip him to the mat consistently, he can steal this fight. But getting inside on Battle will be a fool’s errand. Battle’s punches were designed to defeat Loosa’s straight down the middle. The bigger finishing threat will be Battle on the feet, but Loosa has yet to be finished in his career. Give me Bryan Battle via decision. On wax.   

Props 

Battle: TKO/KO (+500) Sub (+400) Dec (+150)  

Loosa: TKO/KO (+700) Sub (+1400) Dec (+275) 

Winner: Bryan Battle | Method: Decision

Ovince St. Preux (+415) vs. Kennedy Nzechukwu (-550)

OSP: DK: $6.8k | Nzechukwu: DK:$9.4k

I looked like Johnny Ringo - like someone walked over my grave when I saw OSP’s name on this card. Ovince St. Preux must have been in the shitter when they were handing out first initials. 

“What’s the matter, homie? You got the bubblies? I told you not to mess with that roach coach.” As a result, he ended up with O-SP instead of G-SP, and his fighting fate was forever altered.  

OSP remains the single worst fighter in history to bet on. He paved the way for the Rozenstruiks of the world. Except, after his most recent performance, I can’t hate on Rozy anymore. He came out and threw hands against Shamil Gaziev. I don’t remember the last time OSP actually threw hands and feet inside the cage. It’s hard to believe that once upon a time, OSP fooked around and went the distance in a title fight against Bones Jones. After a fifty-second KO loss to Philipe Lins in his most recent bout a year ago, I thought OSP would ride off into the sunset. Nope. 

Kennedy Nzechukwu is the only Kennedy who can ride in a drop-top around Dallas. And like grassy knolls are a Kennedy’s kryptonite, Nzechukwu’s long, rangy striking is OSP’s kryptonite. Nzechukwu can hit you from the book depository. He’ll have you thinking there were multiple fighters inside the cage throwing hands at you. “Headshot, bang!” has a different meaning when a Kennedy is sniping you. Nzechuwu’s strikes have no fat on them; they’re lean with not a single degree of deviation from a straight line. Kennedy has the shortest, longest punches you will ever see. His punches seem to materialize out of thin air with no tell and travel the shortest possible path to the targets. Nzechuwu’s hands are like grappling hooks that have no limit to their reach. If OSP doesn’t come out and protect himself with punches, Nzechukwu will turn OSP into a patsy real fookin’ quick. 

But Kennedy’s specialty is working in the clinch. Homie is a woodchipper in the clinch. His standing elbows are longer than most fighters’ punches. Nzechuwu’s Thai clinch is a medieval torture device, and he often relies on it to turn the tide if the stand-up isn’t going his way. Nzechukwu’s major malfunction is that he needs to be rolled downhill and kick-started to get him going. He’s a slow starter who tends to wait for the Rocky music montage to begin before unleashing an ass-whoopin’. Kennedy has a path to victory at every cardinal point. Pick a direction, any direction. Nzechukwu can win this fight almost anywhere except if he ends up beneath OSP for some reason. OSP has sneaky chokes, including the Von Preux choke, which is a counter to a guillotine. OSP has four career submissions via Von Preux choke, including two in a row within the UFC.    

OSP is like Jack Rooney in Any Given Sunday, trying to hang on to his job with Willie Beamen looking over his shoulder. A rare feat, OSP was KO’d by Tanner Boser and Philipe Lins. That’s a truck stop murderer’s row if I’ve ever seen one. OSP comes to the fork in the path to victory and turns around. He runs right off a cliff and holds up a little sign that says, “Yikes!” OSP has two major malfunctions: 1) Hands down, man down. Every time OSP kicks or throws a punch, his hands drop to his waist like he’s taking a bow. He’s the most counterable fighter in the game. 2) He doesn’t do anything. He fights scared. OSP just doesn’t let his hands and feets go enough. When he does, he has lethal weapons. He’s the very definition of a one-punch striker, but his individual weapons—up-the-middle and round kicks and heavy straight punches—are as good as any strikers in the division.   

The Numbers: Throw them out. This one isn’t going the distance. OSP has lost three of his last four, all by TKO/KO, and his only win came against the empty husk of Shogun Rua. And five of Kennedy’s six UFC wins came via TKO/KO. Kennedy will be the (-500) favorite, and OSP is the (+360) mangy dog. If you’re still dropping Hamiltons and Jacksons on OSP, please call 1-800-GAMBLER. BUT (huge but), every time I completely write off a fighter in flowing medieval script, they fookin’ win. Every. Fookin’. Time. Here’s to breaking that streak: Kennedy Nzechukwu via TKO, round two. Put that ish on wax. 

 Props 

Nzechukwu: TKO/KO (-225) Sub (+550) Dec (+550)  

OSP: TKO/KO (+1100) Sub (+1400) Dec (+1200) 

Winner: Kennedy Nzechukwu | Method: TKO Rd.2

Gerald Meerschaert (-225) vs. Bryan Barberena (+185)

Meerschaert: DK: $9.1k | Barberena: DK: $7.1k

Gerald’s Game. Gerald Meeschaert travels along the OSP spectrum: When you expect the world, he hands you the state of Maine. And when you expect the state of Maine, he hands you the fookin’ world. 

“But you know, Lloyd. Just when I think you couldn’t possibly be any dumber, you go and do something like this... and TOTALLY redeem yourself! 

Shatting himself is literally in Gerald’s name. Meerschaert is like a groundhog; if he wakes up and sees his shadow, he’s gonna sub a muhf**ker. “I’m feeling dangerous today.” If not, he’s getting KO’d quick-quick. He didn’t see his shadow against Khamzat Chimaev, and Chimaev made Gerald look like a Civil War reenactment actor playing a dead body on top of a heap of dead bodies. He looked like he didn’t pay up, and the enforcer paid him a visit. Meerschaert’s major malfunction is his striking, and it begins with his hand speed. Or lack thereof. He has stoned sloth hand speed. That indica hand speed. His hands forget what they got up to do halfway to the target. But I’ll say this for Gerald’s hands: They are deceptively heavy. You need a Team Lift to move one. He has Acme anvils for hands, and if he lands, he can put you away. He actually outstruck Bruno Silva and Makhmud Muradov.   

But fook the stand-up. Gerald Meerschaert has twenty-seven career submissions. I don’t have twenty-seven dollars, much less twenty-seven professional “Matte!’s” to my name. I think Alexey Oleynik is the only man on earth with more subs than Gerald Meerschaert. And of Gerald’s thirty-five career dubs, he finished all but two of them. On the flip side, of his seventeen career L’s, he was finished in twelve of them. Live fast; die hard. You know one thing about Gerald Meerschaert, he’s finishing or getting finished. Against Barberena, Gerald has to commit to his wrestling. His majorest malfunction is not initiating takedowns when he has a clear advantage on the mat. Barberena has a forty-noine career takedown percentage. In his last bout against Makhmud Muradov, Baberena gave up thirteen takedowns. And Muradov is more of a striker. Gerald’s path to victory is a yellow brick road outlined with dozens of jolly dwarfs.   

Bryan Barberena has First Team All Ruth Langmore honors.  

“You’re gonna have to kiiiiiill me!” 

And you know what, Barberena has died his share of noine lives. In every fight, he tends to take damage like the Bonnie and Clyde car. He has that PC defense; he’s afraid to offend you by making you miss or by blocking one of your punches. If fighting was the military, Barberena would be a grunt, an infantryman. Aka, cannon fodder. He’d be at the front of the pack, leading the charge, yelling, “Come on, you apes! Do you want to live forever!?” Operation Human Shield: That’s Byan Barberena. On the feet, Barberena is quantity over quality; he’s E. Honda with the Hundred Hand Slap. His combinations are infinite; they never end. He just puts them on loop. Killer Instinct combinations - Bryan Barberena created them. But his punches need jumper cables; they don’t have any power. His hands are like windmills that depend on Mother Nature (and diesel engines) to keep them moving. Barberena averages five and a half SLpM and once landed over one hundred strikes in back-to-back-to-back fights.   

But Barberena has turrble takedown defense. His wrestling/grappling gets a Needs Improvement on his progress report, which has to be signed by his parents. Takedown hazards are everywhere in Barberena’s world. His kids Legos over here. An iPhone cable over there. And wifey hollerin’ at him for using the wrong hand towels, straight trippin’. If Meerschaert doesn’t try to get this fight to the mat early and often, we’ll know the fix is in. Barberena is 18-11 for his career with eleven TKO/KOs and two subs. He is the type to overwhelm you with volume and stop you late with accumulative damage. I think Barberena can finish Gerald late, but Gerald is a bigger submission threat than Barberena is a TKO/KO threat.   

Meerschaert is the (-225) favorite, and Barberena is the (+185) dog. There is a very real chance that Meerschaert doesn’t even try to take down Barberena, and he will slowly fall behind on the punching stats and the judges' scorecards. This is far from a gimme for Meerschaert. But against better judgment, I must assume Gerald will eventually end up in the top position where he is a choking hazard, like weenies and windpipes. Barberena has been finished five times in his career - three came via submission. Gerald Meerschaert via guillotine choke, round three. I can give it to ya, but what ‘cha ‘gone do with it? Put it on wax. 

Props 

Meerschaert: TKO/KO (+800) Sub (+110) Dec (+300)   

Barberena: TKO/KO (+500) Sub (+2000) Dec (+450) 

Winner: Gerald Meerschaert | Method: Guillotine Choke Rd.3

Thiago Moises (-450) vs. Mitch Ramirez (+335)

Moises: DK: $9.3k | Ramirez: DK:$6.9k

Who the fook is Thiago Moises fighting? The original matchup was Moises vs. Brad Riddell, which would have been a solid little banger between once-promising lightweights. Instead, Mitch Ramirez (sounds like a Punch Out! name) will be debuting against a top fifteen fighter. I know I promised never to completely write off fighters a couple weeks ago, but how can I resist when given OSP and Mitch Ramirez back-to-back? Just experience-wise, this fight is a complete mismatch and a wonder that it was sanctioned. Moises has faced Islam Makhachev, Beneil Dariush, Damir Ismagulov, Bobby Green, and Benoit St. Denis. Ramirez has faced nothing but Homer Simpson hobos. The only question is: Can Moises finish Ramirez in the first round and justify his Fantasy cap hit? 

Thiago Moises is Gilbert Burns Lite. Nonalcoholic Gil Burns. On the feet, Moises has a giggity-goo right hand and the giant boot they tried to kick Bart in the ass with. That Moises right hand rocks the Infinity Glove with a little pinky ring. Cue that “Pinky Ring” by the Wu. For all my old-school fight heads, Moises has always reminded me of Josh Koscheck. Koscheck was a prototypical wrestler striker who fought GSP for the title twice. Moises has a massive, distance-closing right hand and dominant power wrestling. But unlike Koscheck, Moises has much better submissions, including a deadly rear-naked modification, which is more like a one-arm rear-naked that he ratchets with his off-hand instead of putting it behind the head. Overall, fighting Moises is like roughhousing with your pappy when you were a kid. He just bullies you, manhandles you, and reminds you who the man of the house is.   

Mitch Ramirez is an NPC. He’s just a face in the crowd like a Where’s Waldo book. He’s a blank fighter profile. Mitch Ramirez is a fighter cloaked in ordinary camouflage. He’s the equivalent of a four-banger Civic with a hood scoop and lawn mower exhaust. You know what... he’s that guy who spent ten years in the G-League and finally got called up to play in the Lakers’ season finale a couple years ago. Dude went on to drop like twenty points or some shit. Mitch is the guy in the stands at a hockey game who gets to play goalie and live out his wildest dreams because all the other goalies got hurt. This is a straight-up Make-A-Wish fight. Like when that soccer mom from the crowd fought Ilima-Lei Macfarlane - Macfarlane who went on to become the Bellator Champion. Okay, okay; you get the point. But, hey, toupee off to the young buck for taking the fight. You have to take any opportunity you can get if you want to make it to the big show.  

But other than having little to no chance of winning this fight, Ramirez has right-hand lane-hand speed. His hand speed is like when you get into a fight in a dream, and your arms feel like one-hundred-pound noodles. I think Mitch is more of a wrestler, which is also Moises’ specialty. But Moises does have suspect takedown defense. So, you’re saying there’s a chance!? Mitch is 8-1 for his career with five TKO/KOs and two subs, but his one loss came against the only UFC competition he faced, Carlos Prates.   

Spoiler alert! Moises will likely takedown Ramirez and choke him out with the quickness. If Ramirez wins this, it will be hard to top as upset of the year. Clear your browser history, Mitch. As I’m writing this, there aren’t any odds, but you can be certain Moises is a massive favorite. Thiago Moises via rear-naked choke, round one. On wax.  

Winner: Thiago Moises | Method: Rear-Naked Choke Rd.1

Prelims

$7k Value Menu

Chelsea Chandler ($7.8k): You may remember the Diaz Sister, Chelsea Chandler; she set the Octagon forty-yard dash record in her last appearance against Norma Dumont. She straight looked like Kat Williams posting a 4.9 forty at a combine workout last week. She was taking heavy artillery fire and did the only thing she could... run. But she couldn’t outrun the ass-whoopin' she took that night. But new shit’s poppin’, and old shit’s stoppin’. And I’m not ready to give up on Stockton’s honorary Diaz Sister. She wasn’t quite ready for elite competition, but Josiane Nunes is far from elite competition. Nunes is a bomb thrower who wings nothing but View Level haymakers. Chandler not only has solid stand-up, but she has nasty old-school ground and pound. She is far from a Fantasy world-beater, but she can win this fight with top control and notch some mid-level striking stats along the way. Chandler is 1-1 in the UFC, and her debut was a first-round TKO of the ground specialist Julija Stoliarenko. 

Christian Rodriguez ($7.7k): This is the guy who toppled the Easter Island stone head, Raul Rosas Jr. C-Rod fights out of Roufus Sport, where the Pettis brothers trained to become World Champions. This kid has shades of the Pettis striking and almost looks like he’s doing an SNL impersonation of them. Spinning shit: C-Rod has excellent timing on spinning back elbow/hammerfist counters and solid boxing overall. But where Rodriguez shines is on the mat. After the first round against Rosas Jr., C-Rod dominated the grappling/wrestling. He also out-grappled Cameron Saaiman in his most recent bout. The Pettis Bros are known for their slick, flashy striking, but the underrated part of their game has always been their grappling/submissions. Anthony won the UFC title by submitting Ben Henderson with an armbar. The number to keep an eye on is 1.4, which is Rodriguez’s submission attempts per fifteen minutes. His opponent, Isaac Dulgarian, is a crafty wrestler with heavy top control, but C-Rod is more dangerous submission-wise on the mat from his back or the top position.   

Danny Silva ($7.4k): The game has changed, becoming infinitely more difficult to predict matchups since the Contender Series alum began flooding the roster. It’s hard to determine how these guys/gals will look against UFC competition. This kid, Danny Silva, is making his debut against one of my perennial sleepers, Josua Culibao. Culibao will have a massive experience advantage, having competed against the likes of Jalin Turner, Charles Jourdain, Melsik Baghdasaryan, Seung Woo Choi, and Lerone Murphy. But Danny Silva fights like his meal ticket is on the line. He fights like Arturo Gatti in the pocket, extending combinations without fear of repercussions. Check it: In his Contender Series bout, Silva averaged over thirteen SLpM and landed two hundred four significant strikes on his way to a decision dub. But his opponent landed one hundred noinety-four strikes of his own. Silva is a classic Red Coat striker who will stand directly in front of you and take turns trading musket rounds back and forth. If Culibao isn’t ready for a firefight, this kid, Danny Silva, could catch him by surprise, and win or lose, Silva should notch some high striking stats.   

 $6k Bathroom Clearance Rack 

OSP ($6.8k): Wait, what? Let me explain. OSP is the ONLY $6k option this week. If you mismanage your cap space like Jerry Jones and find yourself staring down the barrel of OSP on your roster, you might want to go back to the drawing board. Can OSP win the fight? Sure, if he comes out completely born-again with a whole new philosophy on life and fights like the OSP who went the distance with Bones Jones. He still has plenty of stand-up skills and an underrated submission game on the mat, but his major malfunction is that he fights scared. The meek shall inherit the Octagon. That’s OSP, meek and oddly tentative in the cage. But he will always have a puncher's/kicker's chance.   

Twenty-Twen-Twen Sleepers

Christian Rodriguez (+155): I think Christian Rodriguez will be the more dangerous striker on the feet and a bigger sub-threat on the mat. His opponent, Isaac Dulgarian, only has six professional bouts to his name, with one dub in the UFC. But he hasn’t fought anybody. C-Rod is 3-1 in the UFC, with a dub on the Contender Series and one in Bellator. Rodriguez will likely end up on his back early and often, but he has the subs/sweeps/scrambles to make this a firefight on the mat as well as on the feet. I learned my lesson completely writing Rodriguez off against Rosas Jr. He then went on to beat Cameron Saaiman, a well-rounded fighter who is better than anyone Dulgarian has fought. This fight has split decision written all over it like graffiti on gas station bathroom stalls.   

Danny Silva (+150): I don’t know much about Danny Silva other than the fifteen minutes of nasty work he put in during his Contender Series bout, but he has the aggression and unmitigated gall to cause Joshua Culibao all kinds of problems on the feet. Silva’s best weapon is his never-ending pressure; he stays in your chest like pacemakers and shows no signs of slowing down for the duration. Culibao often acts too cool for school on the feet – gets a little too loosey-goosey and has been known to get caught with heavy shots. I think it will be Danny Silva pushing the pace and Joshua Culibao getting in where he fits in, trying to keep up. This is another fight with split decision written all over it, like disappointment written on the faces of every Dallas Cowboys fan.   

Pick ‘Em 

Christian Rodriguez (+155) vs. Isaac Dulgarian (-185) 

Winner: Christian Rodriguez 

Method: Decision 

Pannie Kianzad (+200) vs. Macy Chiasson (-250) 

Winner: Macy Chiasson 

Method: Rear-Naked Choke Rd.3 

Natan Levy (+255) vs. Mike Davis (-325) 

Winner: Mike Davis 

Method: Decision 

Josiane Nunes (-145) vs. Chelsea Chandler (+120) 

Winner: Chelsea Chandler 

Method: Decision 

Jafel Filho (-180) vs. Ode Osbourne (+150) 

Winner: Ode Osbourne 

Method: Decision 

Joshua Culibao (-175) vs. Danny Silva (+150) 

Winner: Joshua Culibao 

Method: Decision 

Jaqueline Amorim (+100) vs. Cory McKenna (-130) 

Winner: Cory McKenna 

Method: Decision 

Charalampos Grigoriou (-150) vs. Chad Anheliger (+125) 

Winner: Charalampos Grigoriou 

Method: Decision 

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 polic1