As Conor McGregor came crashing down at UFC 329, so did so many flights of fancy

LAS VEGAS — Oh yes, the art of the buzzkill. 

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For a minute there, when the lights went down in Las Vegas, and the fascia ring lit up with the familiar Irish colors at the T-Mobile Arena, everyone stood on their feet to catch a glimpse of Conor McGregor making his way to the Octagon. You can say what you want about McGregor’s many inconvenient truths, the hysteria of his fight nights is next to a religious experience in the game. 

If there was a snake, it would’ve been passed around.

In a conversation with Marc Ratner, the UFC’s Vice President of Regulatory Affairs, he mentioned being there for Sugar Ray Leonard and Thomas Hearns back in the 1980s when he headed up the Nevada Athletic Commission. He understood a big-fight feel, is what he was saying, looking around at the atmosphere Saturday at UFC 329. 

One group of fans, while walking from New York, New York Hotel to the arena, were singing Bowie’s “Five Years” because, well, that’s how long it had been. Five years. A lot has happened. Lifetimes. Wars. Twitter’s conversion into X. Everyone from Justin Jefferson to Tucker Carlson to Anthony Kiedis was there, along with the full galaxy of Vons, from Theo to Vince Vaughn to Erich von Stroheim — or at least that’s who the UFC might’ve misidentified Justin Gaethje as when showing him on the celebrity cam.

Suits. Evening dresses. Plenty of side boob and glitterati, all there to see McGregor as he … like, leapt into the sky as if to say mortal men don’t come back from broken legs, but I am no mortal man … as if to say, to hell with the prognosticators who said I couldn’t … as if to say, Max Holloway, behold the miracle of perseverance, because while you merely have wings tattooed on your shoulder blades, I have wings made of God’s own will, allowing me to fly …

That’s what he said when he leapt. When he came down, so did everyone. 

Conor McGregor's long-awaited return ended in just 69 seconds. (Esther Lin, Uncrowned)Esther Lin

Was it a slip? Or did his leg give out? The mind goes frantic when it needs explanations. Another kick with the left leg, and another fall to the canvas. Holloway jumped down to where Conor laid and started punching him, because what else was he to do? Max was like a storm chaser watching a tornado dance by. The upkicks from Conor were the only real attempts at offense. The fight was all of eight seconds old.

You know what the general thought was for all those people who put together enough of a potluck to break the UFC’s all-time gate record, exceeding $25 million all told? 

Not like this. Not like this. 

When I commented to Justin Strnad, the Denver Broncos linebacker who was sitting front and center, that he had nice seats, he replied, “Yeah — and dude, trust me, it cost an arm and a leg.” Legs were currency on this night, and McGregor didn’t have one to stand on. 

He got back up, and threw a left hand before his leg gave out again. Holloway tried to tell referee Mike Beltran that McGregor was damaged goods, but Beltran gave McGregor the benefit of the doubt. The cycle repeated, and when it was clear that McGregor was compromised, as his knee buckled on the next advance, Beltran waved his arms in the air. 

The groan that went up was one I’ll never forget. It was living a life of faith and finding out there was nothing behind the curtain. Emptiness. And therefore, in the grand scheme, meaningless. What people were mumbling was “I knew it,” even if what they said beforehand was, “I believe.” 

What a buzzkill. 

Holloway swiped his hands in a “make it rain” gesture, but it couldn’t help but be anticlimactic for him, too. 

“Even with [McGregor] walking into the octagon, it just didn’t seem like the same Conor,” he said in the post-fight press conference. “He was still there to fight, but I thought he would be a little bit more rowdy, a little bit more crazy. He looked, like, really, really calm, like super calm, so I was just kind of like, ‘Oh wow, let’s see how this goes.’ Of course, I knew he was going to attack me with something and it was that kick, so it sucks.”

Who knows if Conor McGregor will ever fight again? (Esther Lin, Uncrowned)Esther Lin

Comeback fights have been in fashion this year, but all the drama is up front. A couple of months back, the MMA world tuned in for Gina Carano’s fight with Ronda Rousey, a combined 26 years of inactivity between them. It was over in 17 seconds. Rousey took Carano down, snatched her arm and that was that. It was as if no fight had taken place because no real resistance could be detected, and no sense of fulfillment could be shared.

It's tough to tell the difference between a fan and a dupe when nothing much happens after so many promises have been made. If there was a saving grace to Saturday, it was independent of the vortex that ensued. It was when Paddy Pimblett, in a fight with massive stakes, rolled up to the dance hall and choked out the favorite Benoit Saint Denis in just 52 seconds. Saint-Denis shot in for a takedown, Pimblett stuffed it and locked in a choke, and boom, just like that the table was set for McGregor. 

It was as if Pimblett put on that Peruvian necktie just for the occasion, and as he did the noodle-arm dance back to the locker room, he left a magic trail for McGregor to swoop in. And McGregor did. When those lights went down, the anticipation of whatever eventuality was forthcoming was dialed up to the rafters. Everything at UFC 329, including seven first-round finishes, were table-setters for the Main Event, which was the moment of truth magnified by a thousand.

The truth is, he who could at one time fly has come down for good, and with him came a big part of the fight game’s imagination. 

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