Salahdine Parnasse has long been considered one of the best fighters outside the UFC, his list of accolades almost as impressive as the eye test. Parnasse ruled KSW with an iron fist for years, winning both their Featherweight and Lightweight championships. One of his two losses was avenged within the year, while the second came in his bid for a third belt up at Welterweight.

Perhaps the most impressive part of Parnasse’s skillset is its breadth - he’s a true MMA fighter who has something for just about everyone at long range, in the clinch, and on the mat. But he needed none of that breadth to dispatch Dan Hooker in under three minutes, letting his slick southpaw kicking game do all the work.

Salahdine Parnasse’s Slick Southpaw Kicking

One of the big concerns for Parnasse as he entered the UFC is how he would deal with larger fighters. Parnasse last fought at Featherweight three years ago and has since packed on muscle, but the regional scenes are far less serious about weight cutting than the UFC, and the average quality of athlete is much lower. Now that Parnasse is in the UFC, he can expect to be on the smaller side at Lightweight, but that didn’t hurt him at all against the longer Hooker.

When facing a reach disadvantage, there are two broad methods of closing the gap. Pressure is the most obvious, taking away the space of the taller man and forcing him into exchanges. But an alternative is to stand farther back, outside the reach of the taller man’s weapons. If he can be made to fall short, he’ll be encouraged to step forward and surrender his own reach willingly.

Parnasse is a capable pressure fighter, but he’s not the most comfortable in the pocket, and Hooker has dangerous intercepting knees. The path of least resistance was to leverage his sharper long range kicking game and force Hooker to respond to the threat of his kicks.

Early on, Parnasse focused on being all the way outside of Hooker’s weapons, standing just close enough to land his kicks with a step in, but far enough to give ground and make Hooker’s miss.

While Hooker had length on him, Parnasse is much more geared toward this sort of fight. His stance is relatively narrow, feet slightly wider than shoulder width, with a light lead leg, allowing him to quickly shuffle his feet for kicks and pick either leg up at a moment’s notice. In contrast, Hooker stands very wide, greatly reducing his maneuverability for landing or defending kicks. His rear leg placed far back in his stance limits his range on kicks with the lead leg, and his front foot is well in front of his center of gravity, making it slow to lift up on a moment’s notice.

Parnasse kept the fight on the outside, avoiding Hooker’s most dangerous weapons, and forcing him into attacks Parnasse was prepared to deal with. Even when Hooker found the range on his kicks, Parnasse had little trouble checking them.

It’s difficult to out-kick a taller fighter, especially in open stance matchups, where a longer rear kick is such a powerful tool. But Parnasse's balance and defensive responsibility was stellar, and he shut down Hooker’s rear leg with a cross check, raising the lead leg high to stave off both leg kicks and kicks to the body.

If you follow me on twitter, you’ve probably seen me rant about the lack of kicking depth in MMA. Over the past few generations, the level of boxing in the sport has risen rapidly, with fighters not only becoming more effective mechanical punchers, but also developing depth in ancillary skills - setups, footwork patterns, and building off opponents’ reactions. But a good kicker in MMA is still largely one who throws fast, hard kicks, and maybe has a few reliable setups to land them. Tactics that support a deep and effective system haven’t trickled in from Muay Thai and kickboxing the way they have from boxing.

Dan Hooker would only need to see an opponent trying to duck under his rear hand once - maybe even a slight twitch at a feint - before he’s ready to drive his knee through their jaw. But when he found a way to reliably predict when Parnasse would put himself on one leg to lift the other high in the air, his only response was to keep kicking into the check. That’s not to say Hooker would have kept doing something that wasn’t working had the fight gone on longer, but Parnasse gave Hooker ample information to work with in the time he had, and he didn’t take it.

Parnasse’s kicking game shone by comparison, as he was able to not only build off his attacks and exploit Hooker’s reactions, but anticipate likely counters and shut them down. The best idea Hooker had was to return each kick Parnasse threw with a leg kick of his own. The idea is great conceptually - if you’re being kicked, that means the kicker is close enough for you to kick back, and he’s planted on one leg for a moment, where a leg kick can do serious damage and take out his base. Even if you can’t defend the kicks, taking a body kick to land a hard leg kick can be a worthy trade, just to give the kicker counters to worry about and threaten their main weapon with attrition.

But Parnasse anticipated the counter leg kicks and shut them down with a preemptive check. This is something you rarely see in MMA even among skilled kickers. It takes not only excellent balance and efficient mechanics to return the kicking leg directly back into the stance and immediately lift the planting foot, but it also requires the sort of anticipation beyond the initial strike that is much more commonly associated with punching offense in MMA than kicks. When Parnasse lifted his leg to check and their legs clashed, he was even ready to punch off it without missing a beat.

Parnasse quickly found the finish with a spin on the classic southpaw double attack. The southpaw rear kick is such a dangerous weapon because it can attack both the body and head with great force using an identical preliminary motion. Kicking the body draws the elbow down and exposes the head, but covering the head exposes the body. It becomes a perilous guessing game for the defender, with the end goal typically being to land a clean, hard kick to the head. While Parnasse established his head kick as a threat early, it was his body kick that took Hooker’s liver and ended his night.

Note how efficient Parnasse’s kicking mechanics are. He takes a small step forward to initiate it, sometimes even kicking on a hop without a visible forward step, in contrast to Hooker’s large, telegraphing steps. His hips stay relatively neutral at the start, sending the kick in a straight line to its target, rather than opening early and kicking in a wide arc, enabling him to better sneak it under the elbow. When he grazes a head kick and his leg crosses over Hooker’s head, he doesn’t spin around and lose his target; his mechanics leave him balanced to curl his knee in, plant his kicking foot right in his stance, and launch a powerful rear hook that forces a stoppage.

The speed and power of Parnasse’s kicks dazzled the much slower Hooker, but his power was largely a factor of speed and perfect placement, while his speed was greatly bolstered by his efficient mechanics. For those who haven’t watched much of Parnasse, he has a lot more to his skillset than he had time to show off against Hooker. After a perfect debut, he’ll likely get a highly ranked opponent next, and he’s arrived at the perfect time in his career to capitalize on a quick start to his UFC run. His prospect days are over at this point, and it’s time to see if he can hang in the Lightweight title picture.

While Parnasse’s performance was unmatched, the biggest surprise of the night came from newcomer Pavel Andrusca, who thoroughly outfought crafty and underrated vet, Nathaniel Wood. After the paywall, we’ll discuss Andrusca’s thoughtful blitzing style and how Felipe Lima took advantage of Morgan Charrière’s head movement.

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While the Nurmagomedovs are famous for their oppressive wrestling, their takedown entries have always been messy. That was never an issue for Khabib, as his relentless pressure gave him countless opportunities to run opponents o…

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Van Tam Dinh: Beating the Kick Catch

Van Tam Dinh won Silver at last year’s world championships, losing a close fight in the finals to China’s Ou Jiaming. He avenged the loss in the finals of the world cup, finally taking home the gold at 52kg. Dinh is a well rounded fighter with capable striking and wrestling, but his most notable skill is that he can score with kicks without exposing himself to his opponent’s takedowns.

Dinh has a more compact stance than is typical among kickers in Sanda, standing relatively square and narrow. Since an amateur Sanda match is a points contest, it’s common for fighters to adopt a fencing stance, making themselves as long as possible, to maximize their effective range and allow them to hit without exposing themselves. While Dinh’s squarer stance shortens his effective range, it also affords him quicker hip and shoulder rotation, allowing him to follow opponents with quick combinations.

His stance is built more for stalking and occupying space than moving in and out at long range. Dinh works his way inside with quick punch-kick combinations, making up in ambidextrous hitting what he lacks in long straight blows.

Since Dinh is often forcing exchanges on longer fighters who prefer long-range pot-shotting, his skill in catching their kicks and converting to takedowns helps greatly. He’ll often work inside and draw a kick out of his opponent, then hit a takedown off it. But he’s usually initiating these exchanges, which opens him up to his opponent’s counters, and that’s where his skill in avoiding the kick catch comes in.

A common anti-catch tactic you’ll see in Muay Thai executed by kickers is controlling the opponent’s head. When catching a kick, it’s often beneficial to keep the opponent’s leg straight, where it remains connected to the center of mass, causing the body to follow when it is moved, and enabling a decisive sweep. Bending the leg can dissipate much of the force before it moves beyond the knee line, making it harder to move the body with it.

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The most basic tenet of technical striking is that, to be defensively responsible, one must keep his hands up. We can tell precisely how defensively responsible a fighter is being by measuring the distance between his knuckles and his waist, with a greater distance representing a higher degree of defensive responsibility. It’s one of the first principles newcomers encounter, and if you’ve trained in a striking art you’ve heard it a thousand times. Your coach regularly bellows it out from across the room and smacks you with his pad when fatigue starts sagging your arms.

By that metric, I don’t know that I’ve ever seen a fighter as defensively responsible as Jack Della Maddalena. His hands start every fight glued to his temples and they scarcely leave their resting position except to attack. Even in frantic exchanges under tremendous fire, his hand position remains diligent. And yet, his last couple fights have been drubbings at the hands of Islam Makhachev and, most recently, Carlos Prates, both exacerbated by his commitment to the high guard.

It’s difficult to blame Maddalena’s defensive system for his loss against Makhachev. His hand position left ample room for Makhachev to get in on his hips at will, but Makhachev is an all time great, and the high guard was never designed to deal with a wrestling threat. But after Prates made mincemeat of Della Maddalena without ever convincing him to drop his guard, pouring through it like water through a sieve, it’s starting to look like the issues run deeper.

So what’s going on here - have we gravely miscalculated the optimal amount of up our hands should be? Is the high guard poorly suited for certain style matchups? Or is there something about Della Maddalena’s particular implementation of it that’s causing him problems? To find the answers to those questions, let us first explore the purpose and strengths of the guard, and then work backwards to see where it went wrong.

The High Guard As a System

A sound high guard is not just a position for the forearms, but a complete system that needs to have different responses for different inputs. Not all punches can be blocked the same way, and not all punches are best responded to with a block at all. But there are some common principles shared by systems that involve keeping the hands high and tight to the head.

Defensively, the high guard works by maximizing coverage of the head and minimizing the chance for a clean blow to slip through. But the ultimate goal of defense is facilitating effective offense, and the high guard is a fundamentally reactive tool. Its user anticipates an attack and sets their guard to deal with it, ideally either answering back, or escaping to a more favorable position to launch their own attack.

A fighter with a tight, high guard is prepared to weather a storm, but they’re also calling that same storm. This is especially clear when we compare it to the wide, bladed Karate-style stance that’s caught on in MMA. The wide stance operates by keeping the head away from the lead foot, with the rear shoulder pulled far back in an exaggerated manner. An opponent standing in front of it is forced into long distance engagements, sold the idea that their target is too far away to hit with a standard attack, in hopes that they will lunge onto counters. But with the rear shoulder and hip far back of the lead side, a fighter cannot effectively keep a tight guard up by his temples. Try it yourself - get in your silliest Karate stance and try to put on the earmuffs - and you’ll find the window of your forearms doesn’t properly close, the gap around the sides of the head is too big, and the tension in your rear shoulder prevents you from comfortably holding the position without bringing the rear hip and shoulder forward.

The high guard forces a more square position of the hips and shoulders, presenting a target that is both broader and necessarily closer. It shows the opponent that the target is in range and gives them some daylight to wiggle through. When they do strike out at the guard, the tactile feedback of knocking into a forearm further encourages them to continue. Whiffing a strike entirely is disheartening and fatiguing, but if you can feel the target in range, you know just a couple more punches at the right angles can score you a clean blow.

Of course, the feedback of a punch landing on the forearms also gives the defender crucial information, and this is where the guard facilitates offense. A hook that lands on the shoulder or forearm tells the defender that the same side is unguarded and open for a counter. Catch and pitch counters allow a fighter to thrive at a range too close to see the openings, as they can be safely felt instead.

The main downside to a high guard is that it makes it difficult for a fighter to generate threat until he is very close. A fighter with his hands locked to his temples appears entirely defensive. He prompts little anxiety about what he might fire off at any moment and demands no urgency in response. That’s part of what makes it so tempting to throw at a high guard and enables the catch and pitch counters. But the ability to generate threat is critical to setting up strikes and seizing the initiative. A fighter becomes vulnerable to the left hook once he is worried about parrying the jab, or to leg kicks once he is worried about pulling his weight back to avoid an overhand, while a fighter worried about nothing is very hard to score on in a clean and safe manner.

Compare these two stances and you’ll see what I mean:

The first is Conor McGregor, who possesses one of the most threatening stances in MMA, and the second is a posture Della Maddalena frequently adopts. Standing in front of McGregor is like staring down the barrel of a loaded gun. His feet are set wide, his lead hand outstretched, obscuring the opponent’s vision or messing with their hand, and his rear hand is held cocked by his nipples, ready to fire hard at any moment. Whether opponents are consciously thinking about it or not, they see his knuckles pointing straight at them, his hips ready to propel, and remain sensitive to any slight twitch in his rear hip that might signal a punch or kick with knockout potential. The left hand and leg create a constant mental tax that makes every action taken by his opponent a little more hesitant, every reaction a little more frantic.

A fighter standing in front of the second fighter need not worry about an immediate powerful blow. He needs to form himself into some other shape before he’s ready to throw hard, and they can rest safe and wait for the telegraph to come. The height of his hands means that he needs to first lower his arm to spear his man with a powerful jab, or fold over his rear hip to align the rear fist and power a straight punch. His shoulders are locked square, which limits his ability to quickly rotate into kicks. His opponent can avoid the mental tax of reaction until they see his fist turn over or his hips rotate.

The final point I want to make about an effective high guard is that the standards earmuffs, with forearms held high and parallel, is narrowly useful as a block. Closing the forearms together and fully impeding a direct route to the chin opens up space around the sides, and vice versa. Keeping the hands high and tight also requires a lot of commitment and sacrifices threat, making it a poor catch all response to any attack.

Old-school boxing books are especially useful for adapting tactics to MMA, since boxers used to fight with much smaller gloves and rely more on positioning or outstretched hands to deny clean blows. Edwin Haislet’s Boxing was published in 1940 and remains one of the best manuals on pugilistic technique. He covers the standard attacks and defenses, but cautions against relying too much on tight blocking:

Blocking is the first line of defense. It means taking a blow on some part of the body which is less susceptible to injury. However, considerable resistance is necessary to block a hard blow which causes contusion of the tissue, nerves, and bone. Blocking, therefore, tends to weaken rather than conserve bodily forces. A well delivered blow, even if blocked, will disturb balance, prevent countering, and create openings for other blows.

Blocking may be used against all types of blows, either to face or body. It should be learned first and learned well. Later it should be used only when necessary.1

Haislet does not show any high blocks for defending straight punches to the head, instead recommending guarding (the use of outstretched arms to obtain inside position and dispel a blow’s force), parrying (sweeping the punching hand aside with the palm), or stopping (pinning the hand so a blow cannot be delivered.

If a rear straight cannot be parried or deflected with the outstretched arm, it can instead be taken on the shoulder. Jack Dempsey echoes Haislet’s teaching in his book Championship Fighting, stating that straight right leads to the head are blocked by “the extended left hand” or the “hunched left shoulder”2.

The high forearm block is reserved for hooking blows around the side of the head:

In MMA gloves, the coverage offered by the forearm block is even more porous, so it is often necessary to sacrifice defense to the body and raise the elbows even higher, so that the elbow and forearm form a protective shell around the ear.

The classic example is Quinton “Rampage” Jackson’s knockout of Wanderlei Silva in their third fight:

Rampage uses the block exactly as it’s designed. As Wanderlei comes forward with alternating hooks, Rampage raises his elbows in sequence and shifts his weight away from the blows. The elbow and forearm provide coverage around the ear, and the shifts of weight help to deflect the force of the punches while loading his hips for the counter hook that fells Silva.

Attempting to use the same block as one’s main response to straight punches not only leaves big coverage gaps, but it also entails a high commitment response to a low commitment stimulus. A powerful hooks takes some time to set up, or else often involves telegraph, leaving ample time to get the forearms high. But jabs and straights can be flicked out and shown with little weight transfer, forcing the defensive high-guard user to overcommit and expose themselves to other weapons.

This all goes back to the high guard as a system with multiple responses to a variety of inputs. The gold standard for a complete high guard defensive system in MMA is former Lightweight Champion, Rafael dos Anjos.

Dos Anjos primarily uses his hands on defense, but he doesn’t keep them plastered to his head. Instead, he raises them in anticipation or reaction, using subtler parries to deflect less committed blows, and adjusting the position of his hands and forearms as the opponent’s combination flows to work around the openings in his guard.

Where Della Maddalena Went Wrong

When Edwin Haislet was working out the most effective blocks, he didn’t have to contend with defending kicks at the same time. If he had, he would surely have had even harsher things to say about relying on high blocks as one’s primary method of defense.

The classic problem for an MMA fighter who relies on his hands to do most of his hitting is figuring out how to keep his lead leg safe. Throwing with power requires spending time with the lead foot weighted, exposing it as a target to kicks. But this is very solvable, and simply defending the leg kicks is not, in my estimation, the most grave problem posed by a boxing-based skillset. Anyone who has reached the top ten in a major division has likely developed tactics to mitigate their most obvious weakness, and punchers are increasingly learning to fold their leg back and let calf kicks drift underneath.

The most challenging aspect of leveraging a boxing skillset in elite MMA is navigating the distance. In a matchup between a skilled boxer who rarely kicks, and a skilled kicker, the kicker will have a range at which he can land his strikes and the boxer cannot. That range advantage extends farther back as well, ensuring that there is also a range at which the kicker’s feints are threatening and the boxer’s are not. It’s not uncommon to see a skilled boxer who relies on his jab as his primary means of engagement look utterly flummoxed when he meets someone who can simply stand outside of jabbing range and pick him off with longer weapons.

Della Maddalena’s dogged commitment to his high guard exacerbates these existing stylistic difficulties. The nature of that matchup means there is a range at which the high guard is entirely useless in MMA - serving zero defensive purpose (as it does not defend against kicks) and completely disarming him offensively. At that range, the natural telegraph involved in punching out of the guard turns from a stylistic downside to an unmitigable catastrophe.

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In part one of Takedown Taxonomy, we looked at the basic, high-percentage takedown entries in MMA, breaking down their mechanics and optimal uses. Those entries will suffice for the majority of your wrestling needs and should integrate effectively into most fighting styles. But there’s always more than one way to skin a cat, and familiarity with tricky, less common takedown entries can be an ace up your sleeve.

Some of the advanced entries covered here are situational or dependent upon certain stance matchups. Others are ways to finesse an entry for fighters who lack the striking and comfort to create clean routes onto the hips. Whether you’re a clever striker looking to set up sneaky takedowns, or a wrestler who needs takedowns at all costs, there will be something in here that can integrate well into your process.

Outside Reach

In our previous discussion of outside step entries, we mentioned that shooting in on the hips of an opponent in the opposite stance is often awkward due to the distance and footwork involved. Although the clashing of the lead legs should, in theory, make it easier to reach the leg, it can be tricky to find clean entries in open stance for fighters who prefer the quick finish of a well-timed double leg over long chain wrestling sequences.

It may seem that the only options are to either bite the bullet and commit to single legs, or expend a lot of effort trying to set up awkward shifting double legs. But there is another way to exploit the near lead leg of an opponent standing opposite you. While penetration becomes messier, the leg is close enough to reach out and grab without penetrating onto the hips. It doesn’t carry us right into a takedown the way clean penetration does, but the shallow entry also takes less commitment, so we can keep harassing the lead leg until it’s time to shoot.

Open Stance

What I’m referring to as an outside reach is an entry where the lead hand makes contact with the opponent’s lead leg while there’s still room between the fighters’ hips. It involves a shallow step forward, a slight level change - not enough to immediately tip off an incoming shot - and a reach outside the opponent’s lead leg.

Unlike a double leg or a single leg, the shallow, one-handed grip on the leg does not put you in a position for an immediate finish. An extra step is needed to penetrate further and transition into a finish. But where the outside reach provides additional value is as a transitional tool. Since it’s not a full, committed entry, it can be seamlessly woven into feints, repeated over and over to frustrate an opponent and conceal the true entries, and even initiated simultaneously with a punch.

Merab Dvalishvili uses these entries liberally, and they’re one of the reasons he’s able to attempt a thousand takedowns every fight.

Dvalishvili will change levels and chuck a big overhand at his opponent while grabbing for their leg. If they focus on defending the takedown, they eat the punch, and he can bail easily with no wasted energy. But the overhand also attacks his opponent’s positioning, convincing them to straighten up and pull their weight over their rear foot. Then, without the ability to hip into him and counterbalance the takedown, Dvalishvili can run his feet forward, circling toward the leg for a high crotch, or stepping across for a double leg.

Reaching for the leg is simultaneously a takedown attempt, a setup for a big rear punch, and a weather vane to check the opponent’s response. It offers built-in, rote synergy between the entry and the punch, allowing you to repeat it over and over, forcing the opponent to guess which is coming and punishing them for choosing wrong.

Dvalishvili is a very rote fighter who tends to force attacks rather than creating subtle openings, but his constant use of the outside reach and overhand right means that he doesn’t have to worry about his opponent’s response in order to exploit it.

Every gesture toward the leg threatens both a big punch and a takedown, or even both at the same time. The opponent can never stay comfortable defending punches or takedowns, forced to expend precious mental resources on avoiding the space between them. But for the attacker, the attempt exposes and costs little, flowing in and out of transitions or making the opponent react to feints as he desires.

Since the open stance matchup provides a clear lane for the rear hand between the shoulders, there’s a lot of room to modify this entry depending on what our rear hand is doing. Overhands pair well with reaching into a double leg or high crotch, as the weight transfer of the overhand sinks the attacker’s weight down outside the defender’s lead hip.

But a straight rear hand opens up a classic MMA takedown, the knee pick:

Once the opponent has seen the rear straight a few times, we step forward and shift weight as if throwing it again, but target the chest instead of the head. The lead hand lifts the defender’s lead leg, and the threat of the rear hand moves their weight backwards, lightening the leg. The rear hand mashes into the chest and shoves the defender back, and we run forward until they topple over, unable to step their lead leg back to recover their base. With the right setup, it’s a quick and easy takedown that takes very little effort or energy.

The finishes covered so far can all be initiated from an upright posture, changing levels only after selling a punch and making contact with the leg. Entering shallow is ideal for transitional attacks, but we can make a quicker and more committed bid for the leg by throwing away the rear hand earlier and taking a deeper level change.

This was one of Glover Teixeira’s most consistent takedown entries:

As Teixeira throws his rear hand, he bends his knees and gets low, reaching outside the lead leg to secure the entry. His opponent’s vision is occupied by the punch and they remain upright while he ducks down onto their hips, stepping his rear leg through to attack an inside step double leg or high crotch.

If the rear hand is timed when the opponent steps in, it can be a powerful intercepting tool as well:

Chris Weidman times a rear straight as Tom Lawlor steps in with a lead hook. The natural fold in Weidman’s hips as he throws his rear hand takes him underneath the hook and puts him inches away from the leg. He quickly snags a grip outside the lead leg, his head already underneath Lawlor’s elbow, and Lawlor has to scramble to recovering his positioning, which gives Weidman time to finish clean.

Reaching outside the lead leg is mostly useful in open stance matchups, since the lead arm rests directly in front of the opponent’s lead leg, and the shoulder configuration leaves the chin open for the rear hand. Against an opponent in the same stance, the reach would have to occur with the rear hand, which sits much further from the opponent’s leg, and it loses synergy with a simultaneous punch.

Outside reach entries in same stance matchups are rare in MMA, but Frankie Edgar managed to build an effective system around them, so this next part will mostly be a case study on how Edgar made them work.

Closed Stance

This entry is more common in wrestling than in MMA, so it may be illustrative to first go over how and why it works in a wrestling context. In MMA, strong wrestlers generally expect to get clean shots that they can finish quickly. But in an Olympic wrestling match, you’re facing one of the world’s best defenders of takedowns, who is focused solely on stopping your takedowns and scoring his own. A perfect entry is often off the table, and getting a grip on anything that allows you to apply leverage has value.

The outside reach allows you to attack outside a leg like you would when shooting a double leg. But not only does it require less commitment than a double leg, it also leaves the opposite hand free to do something else.

World champion wrestler, Rahman Amouzad, uses an active left hand to feint around, handfight, and control his opponent’s head. Occasionally he’ll surprise them with a knee-pull high crotch, sticking that left hand in his back pocket to get underneath his opponent’s defense as he reaches inside their leg. The natural response to the high crotch threat is to withdraw the lead leg and circle away from it. But that response enables his outside reach:

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I look at how it works, why it's so effective, and how to pair it with strikes for cleaner takedown setups.

For a more in-depth breakdown of takedown setups, check out my recent article where I go into detail on mechanics and tactics behind entering into takedowns:

When wrestlers transition to MMA, they often find themselves lacking their most familiar takedown setups. In many ways it’s easier to shoot on an upright opponent in an MMA stance, but the longer distance involved and the presence of striking place additional constraints on a wrestler looking to shoot. Early in their careers, strong wrestlers tend to have an easy time overwhelming opponents, but as they move up in competition, they need to start creating opportunities to make their takedown attempts count.

One of the hardest parts of wrestling in MMA is finding clean entries. A fighter who can get to the hips quickly gives himself a huge edge: takedown finishes become more decisive, less energy is expended, and the opponent has to start worrying about every slight level change.

It often seems like a golden age of open-space wrestling has come and gone in MMA, with many grapplers now preferring to pressure opponents back and only commit to takedowns on the cage. Effective open-space wrestling requires navigating distance and reading reactions in a way that can be very challenging, but the rewards are high.

Takedown Taxonomy will map out how open-space takedown entries work. We’ll lay out the core skills and tactics that create openings, then categorize the most common penetration options and how they change across stance matchups. For each entry, we’ll look at the highest-percentage finishes and consider which styles get the most out of them. In the upcoming second part, we’ll go in depth on more niche, advanced entries.

Since every fight starts on the feet, effective wrestlers must know how to use their striking to set up the takedown.

Priming The Takedown

A wrestling-based game in MMA requires a lot of energy management, as shooting over and over for a 15 or 25 minute fight is exhausting. There’s often a real cost to taking poor shots and struggling through laborious chain wrestling finishes that becomes self-evident the deeper a fight goes. On the other hand, a perfectly timed takedown entry can feel almost effortless, penetration leading directly into the finish with little time spent tensing the muscles or bearing the opponent’s weight.

Whether a fighter finds it worthwhile to invest in developing clean entries and timing for his takedowns is, to some degree, a matter of style. An excellent chain wrestler with a devastating top game might not need to worry about timing his shots perfectly, since he can expect to stay on top of anyone he drags to the mat and severely diminish them by the end of the round. But most fighters who tend to use their wrestling offensively benefit a great deal from effective setups, from generalists who mix up striking and grappling, to back-taking specialists who don’t tend to deal much damage on top.

In wrestling, the layers of defense one must clear to finish a clean takedown are the head, hands, and hips. When striking is added to the mix, the head stops being a reliable defensive tool due to the more upright stances, but distance is added as another layer a wrestler must navigate. When faced with a shot from far away, most fighters will look to give ground or circle away, letting distance do the work for them. Move a little closer and they’ll start using their arms to downblock or frame the attacker away. If the shot gets underneath their arms, a savvy defensive wrestler will throw their hips in to halt the shot’s momentum while they recover their arms.

Executing a perfect takedown entry is all about anticipating these reactions and setting traps to get around them, convincing the opponent to expose his own hips, or putting him in a position where his defensive reactions are less accessible. Laying the groundwork for a successful takedown entry involves gathering information on the opponent’s responses through feints and safe, probing leads, feeding them different looks to see what they do. Once you know how someone will react, you can draw it out of them and exploit it.

The classic way to set up a clean takedown entry is to draw out a counter punch and shoot underneath it. There’s no better tool for gathering information and drawing committed responses than an educated jab, and it’s no coincidence that wrestlers with strong jabs tend to have an easy time getting in on their takedowns.

Georges St-Pierre made a career off flustering opponents with his jab, goading them into overcommitting on the counter, and sailing into a smooth finish underneath it. If we can convince our man to lash out and shoot underneath, we can bypass all his defensive layers at once. His aggression closes the distance for us, at least one hand is outstretched and occupied punching, and his hips are in no position to counterbalance the takedown when committing to a punch.

A perfectly timed reactive takedown often finishes itself. You can clasp your hands behind your back, ram your shoulder into the hips, and - if the timing is perfect - the opponent should fall from the collision alone. But clean reactive entries rely a great deal on striking comfort, especially in close range. They are the gold standard, but fighters without the eyes to stand comfortably in punching range and read their opponents will struggle to implement them.

One of the simplest and most effective setups for a leg attack in wrestling is to circle away from the leg you want to attack and draw it forward. This is often easier in wrestling, since when you’re tying up in close range, you can more easily sense your opponent’s steps and even feel their subtle shifts in weight. But in MMA, we can use striking footwork to our advantage to lay traps and draw out a forward step.

Chris Weidman responds to Mark Muñoz’s attack by backing up and circling off with an L-step. To continue attacking, Muñoz has to turn on the spot to face Weidman and take a big step forward to reach him. But as soon as Muñoz steps in, he ends up serving his leg on a silver platter to Weidman’s high crotch entry.

The beauty of using striking footwork to set up takedown entries is that it can trick opponents into thinking you’re out of position and generate an aggressive advance. Many fighters will routinely step out of their staggered stance to circle, using L-steps, stepping across themselves, or just squaring up to skip sideways. Whenever you leave the safety of your stance, you open yourself up for strikes. So by stepping out of stance just slightly too far away for the opponent to hit, you can get them eager to clobber you, before resuming your stance and snatching the leg as they try.

You can get as fancy with footwork setups as you want, even drawing the rear leg forward if an opponent is looking to switch stances:

Scott Holtzman has been frustrated by Mateusz Gamrot constantly backing up and circling off when pressed, so he starts bringing his rear leg forward and squaring up to herd him along the cage. Gamrot reads this and sets a trap, circling into a kick, then stepping back into the opposite stance and showing an L-step out the other way. Once Holtzman takes the bait and brings his right leg forward, Gamrot pounces on the ankle, before climbing up to a high crotch and doubling off to finish.

Another way to lure unsuspecting opponents into a deep takedown entry is by stepping back into the opposite stance. Backstepping is a common striking tactic in MMA, often employed by slick strikers, allowing them to both give ground and change the stance engagement at once. But just as it can set up a sneaky hook off the new lead side, it can also disguise a level change.

Chad Mendes had one of the best reactive double legs in MMA history, and he hit most of them off a backstep into southpaw. By stepping his lead leg back as his opponent enters, his upper body appears to rapidly retreat, encouraging them to lose their stance chasing after him. But he’s closer than he appears as his right leg stays in place, ready to change levels and yoink his pursuing opponent to the mat. This is also a great option for wrestlers who prefer to shoot and strike with opposite lead legs, which we’ll discuss more in part two of this series.

Obviously, convincing one’s opponent to offer up their own hips is ideal, but it won’t always be possible to snag such an easy entry. Some well-rounded generalists may be able to wait for the perfect opportunity to commit to a shot, but the more one’s game relies on wrestling, the more he’ll need to take risks and commit to a takedown when the opening is merely good enough. To that effect, it can be useful to dissuade the opponent from standing in a way conducive to takedown defense.

A defensive wrestler ideally wants to meet a takedown in a low, staggered stance, weight rooted on the front foot so they can quickly throw their hips in. They also want their hands low enough to downblock. Any weapon in the arsenal that punishes these responses can increase our chance of success in finding a clean takedown entry.

The classic example is the level change uppercut. Fake a move for the legs and let the opponent duck down onto an uppercut, and next time he’ll think twice about changing levels so quickly.

Al Iaquinta foils Khabib Nurmagomedov’s attempt at a single leg takedown, but finds himself stuck against the cage after pulling his leg out. Worried about another shot, he extends his hands and crouches low. Instead of trying to shoot on an opponent prepared to defend, Khabib takes the free real estate and hits Iaquinta with an uppercut and a front kick - both weapons that encourage him to stand tall and open himself up for the next shot.

Traditionally, boxing is the natural counterpart to wrestling, and most wrestlers in MMA tend to develop their boxing skills over anything else. However, we’re increasingly seeing an archetype of fighters who rely on their outside kicking game to score, while using their wrestling and clinch skillsets to snuff out punching range. Kicks don’t flow into takedown entries quite as easily as punches, but they can be invaluable to controlling an opponent’s stance and posture. A couple heavy leg kicks will get opponents picking up their leg or holding weight on the back foot, making it easier to burst forward with a takedown.

Similar to uppercuts, kicks are also useful to stand opponents tall. A fighter in a crouched posture is vulnerable to high kicks, and as soon as he abandons it, the takedown opens up. Even the threat of a high kick can take the bend out of an opponent’s legs and prime them for a level change. Khamzat Chimaev in particular is a fan of this, initiating many of his takedowns in the first few seconds of a fight, right after kicking high to get his opponent’s brain out of takedown defense mode.

All these tactics share the same goal - manipulating the opponent’s positioning and capitalizing on their reactions to open up the hips. How exactly that looks will differ depending on the individual style involved, but developing synergy between striking and wrestling is crucial for any fighter who wants to hit takedowns, as each makes the other more effective and impactful.

Split Step Footwork

The rest of this article will categorize and discuss discrete entries, but I wanted to give this its own section as it’s particularly important to MMA wrestlers. The split step is a common way to initiate penetration in wrestling, with a few advantages over a standard penetration step. It allows a wrestler to change levels directly from a closer range than a knee-over-toe shot. Zaurbek Sidakov’s split step high crotch is one of the best examples of the move in action.

Instead of pushing off the back leg and stepping forward into the takedown, the split step involves a slight hop, with both feet coming off the ground at the same time. The front foot goes forward and the rear foot back, with the rear foot hitting first to propel you forward as it hits the ground.

The reason split steps are so useful to initiate takedowns in MMA is that getting low enough to shoot is much more difficult from an upright stance. You can step forward and bend your front leg at the same time, but that mucks up your positioning, sending your momentum into the ground. To maximize momentum and attain strong positioning on entry, the level change and forward movement should ideally happen in two distinct motions, sending the momentum straight ahead. But dipping low enough to shoot directly forward is an obvious tell.

When the timing is perfect and the distance slight, you can afford to sacrifice some positioning, as it takes far less momentum to knock over an opponent squaring up and drifting forward, and you avoid giving them the opportunity to put weight on you. But when shooting from far away, every mistake is more costly.

Split steps are a great tool for initiating shots from outside punching range. Not only is it the quickest way to transition from an upright striking stance to a crouched athletic stance ready to burst forward, but the movement also gives you a burst of forward momentum. From the perspective of the opponent, you get much lower and much closer at the same time.

The split step single leg has been the trademark technique of fighters trained by the great Abdulmanap Nurmagomedov since the debut of his son, Khabib. Most Nurmagomedov-trained fighters rely on shooting from afar more than working inside and setting up cleaner entries, confident that their incredible chain wrestling will suffice once they get in on a leg, and the split step consistently gets them a grip on the leg. Before Khabib started fighting in the walled Octagon and running opponents onto the cage, nearly every takedown he secured was from the same move, setting up outside punching range, and using a split step to simultaneously drop low and propel forward.

But the ability to transition directly from an upright striking stance to a wrestling posture without taking a perceptible step is useful for more than just long-range shots. For fighters with more comfort on the inside, it can set up a lightning fast reactive takedown. A fighter with a fold in his rear hip, dipping down as he feints jabs, is at least somewhat recognizable as a takedown threat. The opponent may not know when it’s coming, but he knows their weight is coiled to spring into a takedown. But the split step can take you right from a posture that doesn’t signal a takedown threat into a takedown while skipping over the telegraph entirely.

Here are a few reactive takedowns entered off split steps. The attacker moves after the opponent begins punching, yet each one reaches the hips before the punch completes, changing levels and bursting forward simultaneously. In each case, the split step takes them straight from an upright striking posture into the shot with no lag time.

It can also be used to enter into a shot when your feet are otherwise out of position:

Josh Barnett feints forward, causing Daniel Cormier to step out of stance and bring his feet together, putting him in a poor position to counter or defend. But as Barnett leaps forward with a lead hook, Cormier’s split step takes him right underneath into a staggered stance and Barnett runs into his high crotch.

The beauty of using split steps to enter into takedowns is that they can double as a striking tool, using the same preliminary motion to initiate both strikes and takedowns. Widen your feet more and you get a deeper level change, perfect for shooting on the legs, while keeping it shallow allows quicker forward drive, perfect for entering into a rear punch or kick.

In my article on Muay Thai star, Tawanchai, I covered how he uses a split step to initiate both his round kicks and his rear teeps, forcing opponents to guess and punishing them when they pick wrong. It works similarly for rear hand punches and takedowns, as demonstrated by Sanda great, Mohsen Mohammadseifi:

Mohammadseifi uses split steps to feint on the outside and propel himself forward into his rear hand. Once his opponent is conditioned to react to punches, he takes a deeper split step to get low and penetrate onto their hips. When the defender expects a punch, it takes a moment longer to react to the level change, and by that time it’s too late.

The split step is an effective tool to get low and drive forward, but it can lead into a wide range of entries. Next, we’ll categorize the primary penetration options and examine their use cases, setups, finishes, and stylistic synergies.

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The DQ loss to Sterling should have been a mere speed bump in Yan’s rise - when a rematch failed to materialize due to a Sterling injury, he proved he was better than ever with a win over a game Cory Sandhagen. Finally slated to fight Sterling once more, the title was once again as good as Yan’s. He already proved he had what it took to dominate Sterling, what’s one more time? But it wasn’t to be. Sterling learned his lessons from their first fight and put on the performance of a lifetime, securing the first round with higher output, maximizing his control on the ground to dominate the middle rounds, and holding out late against a resurgent Yan for a split decision.

After the second Sterling loss, everything seemed to spiral out of control. Another split decision loss to up-and-coming contender, Sean O’Malley, that most viewers saw for Yan. There were calls of robbery, but for the second time in a row, Yan’s workrate let him down, as he failed to distinguish his offense and left himself playing catch up after early hesitation. But the worst was yet to come for Petr Yan.

Yan was on a two fight skid, but his elite talent shone through in both losing performances. A couple different bounces in a couple different rounds, and he could easily be making his fifth title defense. But Merab Dvalishvili would soon put that fantasy to rest. Dvalishvili not only handed Yan his third consecutive loss, he bullied Yan around the Octagon, overwhelming him with pace, pressure, and offensive volume. Not a single judge saw Yan winning even one round.

His first fight with Dvalishvili could have put Yan right back into title contention, but instead it thrust him into a slower rebuild. He wouldn’t fight until nearly a year later, winning a decision over Song Yadong that felt too close for comfort. His next couple fights against Deiveson Figueiredo and Marcus McGhee felt like lateral moves at best, but he turned in more commanding performances that still lacked the devastation and damage of his earlier run.

In the meantime, Dvalishvili kept busy cleaning out the Bantamweight division ahead of Yan. He won five straight after their fight, capturing the title from Sean O’Malley and defending it against Sandhagen and Umar Nurmagomedov. Yan found himself in the position Aljamain Sterling once occupied, coming into a rematch against a nightmare matchup that made him look helpless in their first contest. And just like Sterling, Yan turned in the performance of a lifetime, delivering a classic Yan beating against all odds.

To understand what made Yan’s performance so special, we must first discuss the factors that make Dvalishvili such a difficult fight for him to navigate. Yan is one of the craftiest pressure fighters in the sport, but he’s always been better at covering distance and keeping up with a retreating opponent than forcing them backwards. Yan is a defensively-minded striker and his primary methods of defense involve using his forearms or extended arms to cover his chin. So his counters mostly arrive delayed, rather than simultaneous to his opponent’s offense, and he prefers to give ground and re-engage over planting his feet and countering on the spot.

Yan’s willingness to throw up a high guard and retreat has caused problems with fighters who can seize the initiative from him - Sterling was able to busy him with enough empty volume early to throw off his offense, while building setups to take him down later. Anyone who struggles with initiative is going to have a hell of a time beating Merab Dvalishvili.

Dvalishvili attacks primarily in bursts and blitzes, but his endless cardio means that the bursts never stop coming, and his opponents never get a chance to rest or comfortably set their feet. He maintains a long distance, feinting back and forth outside immediate jabbing range, and covers it by launching himself head first into long right hands.

Dvalishvili’s willingness to throw himself off balance makes his rear hand quite a bit longer than it appears at the cost of his own stance. He’ll also throw in a couple basic mixups to keep opponents guessing, initiating it with a lead hook or hand trap, and running through into southpaw with a left hook as opponents backtrack.

It’s easy to see why Yan would have trouble advancing against someone like Dvalishvili, but what truly ties Dvalishvili’s game together is the way his striking sets up his takedowns. The motion of his long right hand also doubles as a penetration step for his takedowns, and because he’s covering so much ground with it, he can very quickly get in on the hips in great position to finish.

When Dvalishvili’s opponents see him bending his knees and heaving himself toward them a hundred miles an hour, there’s no way to tell if he’s looking to punch them in the face or grab a leg. You have to respect the right hand, or you’ll eat power punches all night, but if you straighten up or back away from it, he’ll duck in on your hips and knock you over like a bowling pin. It’s a natural response to such a long right hand to move away from it and start shifting weight backwards, but that allows Dvalishvili’s momentum to run through you if he shoots, as the feet need to remain firmly planted to hip in and halt the shot’s momentum.

This simple mixup makes Dvalishvili one of the biggest open-space takedown threats in MMA, and he can spam it over and over again until his opponents exhaust themselves physically and mentally trying to defend. This might seem like the same old “wrestler with an overhand right” setup, but you’re underestimating how much distance Dvalishvili closes with his and how that threat compromises his opponent’s positioning.

In their first fight, Dvalishvili’s cleanest takedowns, where he was able to strike directly into a finish without having to work through a long chain wrestling sequence, came mostly when he made Yan react to the threat of his right hand. Yan would throw his guard high, then get caught with his posture upright and with weight on his heels.

In the rematch, Yan built his approach around avoiding that position, making Dvalishvili struggle through every takedown attempt he could muster.

Yan needed a way to prevent Dvalishvili from backing him off at will and apply more consistent offense at mid-range. He found the perfect tool early in a dipping jab, spearing Dvalishvili with stinging jabs while maintaining a fold in his rear hip, or proactively ducking low after landing.

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Effective infighting is rare in Sanda since clinch striking doesn’t score. If one tries to crowd his opponent with punches, simply grabbing an underhook or overhook will negate any points from then on, turning the exchange into wrestling or stalling. But Chengjin managed to manipulate clinching range in a way I’ve not seen previously in Sanda, hitting effectively in transitions, but also leveraging frames to keep his opponents where they could be hit and hurt.

At long range, Chengjin is a southpaw with a slick one-two and fast open side kicks, hidden behind rhythmic bouncing. But as the distance tightens, his more unique qualities show through. He appears to be a converted southpaw, possessing a dexterous and unusual lead hook.

Instead of sitting down on the lead hook and rotating his hips into it, he thrusts it out in more of a stabbing motion.

The stabbing hook doesn’t hit as hard as a full power rotational punch, but it lets Chengjin sneak it through at awkward angles and double up on it in quick succession, since the delivery eschews exaggerated hip motion. It’s one of his most useful tools for applying volume, continually occupying the opponent’s vision and threatening to interrupt them if they settle into an exchange, while at the same time setting up his bigger strikes. Since Chengjin is a southpaw, the hook comes from a blind angle outside the shoulder, and stabbing with it gives him a lot of control over the angle, so he can direct it over the shoulder if their chin is hidden.

Chengjin’s left hand is used more sparingly, typically as an intercepting counter or set up off a quick leg kick.

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While I enjoy just about any combat sport I can get my hands on, most of my time is spent watching MMA or Muay Thai, so those are the typical arts you’ll see me reference. But for the discerning martial artist, there’s endless value in studying a variety of arts, as slight differences in ruleset or culture can produce unique material for adapting to a more open ruleset. If you watch enough outside the combat sports orthodoxy, you’ll quickly find that a lot of techniques which at first appear ineffective actually work quite well when honed to proficiency, and that can often only happen under a ruleset whose specific constraints allow them to flourish.

So today I bring you three weird fighters from sports you probably don’t watch a lot of, but I’m certain you’ll find some value in their unique styles. We’ll look at a Russian karateka who uses his Karate skills to box up MMA fighters in the pocket, a top Kun Khmer fighter who relentlessly hunts his opponents’ rear legs, and a Malagasy Moraingy specialist who fills 30-second rounds with creative and unorthodox combinations.

Alexander Matmuratov: Karate Parries & Deflections

When we think of Karate fighters in MMA, the image that comes to mind is that of a fighter standing far away in a long, bladed stance. The driving principle behind that is the idea of Ikken Hissatsu, or to kill in one blow. Originally a figurative dictate to strike with commitment and make every blow count, the metric eventually became a target and its influence grew to shape competition format. The end result is the point Karate we’ve all become familiar with, where the fight is stopped and reset after a clean blow is landed.

A sport without exchanges doesn’t produce effective fighters on its own, but in ironic fashion, the primary design principle that held point Karate back as a complete striking art also turned out its most important import to the world of continuous fighting. Once point Karatekas started rounding out their skillsets, and MMA fighters of other backgrounds began incorporating point Karate drills and tools, it became clear that a specialty in avoiding all contact until the moment of impact is incredibly useful.

But as effective as the point Karate meta proved for distance management, it’s also homogenized their competitive contests. Most styles of Karate traditionally teach many stances, with a variety of purposes and foot positions, but the principle of one touch death incentivizes fighters to get as side-on as possible and disregard anything but their longest, straightest weapons. Instead, boxing has taken over as the main influence in pocket fighting, with even Karate-style fighters tending to abandon Karate’s unique inside weapons in favor of boxing techniques.

Alexander Matmuratov is a Russian Karate stylist who goes against that trend. While he’s integrated Karate techniques well into a broader skillset, he operates at length in the pocket and he does so with an unmistakably Karate flare. Matmuratov’s original art was Shotokan Karate, but he later diversified, training in Combat Sambo and ARB (Russian Military Hand-to-Hand), and winning championships in Koshiki Karate, a style of point Karate with continuous exchanges.

Matmuratov makes effective use of the old point Karate staples - he uses in-and-out bouncing footwork to set up entries and disengage, pairs a chambered round kick with side kicks and hook kicks, and knocks foes out with spinning kicks. But what’s most interesting about Matmuratov is where he diverges from the point Karate competition meta and borrows from the old textbooks.

He cycles through different positions within his stance, all more square than the standard point Karate fare. His typical stance sees his lead foot pointed directly forward, enabling quick kicks off either leg. But he’s ready to step diagonally into the opposite stance or draw his lead leg back square, where he can rapidly change directions and side step effortlessly.

Standing more square than a typical MMA stance allows Matmuratov to flow quickly into that squared up strafing stance, juking out opponents and circling away as they try to walk him down. He can also play with what weapons he’s showing, stepping into the opposite stance to open up a rear kick to the open side or close a shoulder to his chin as his opponent attacks. When he wants to spring forward, he’ll bounce into a wider, set stance and hide it in the motion of his footwork, often taking a split step to propel himself into a lunging rear hand.

You’ll often see fighters adopt a squared up stance as their back nears the cage, but much of the time it’s an involuntary result of running out of space, and few use it to its full capabilities. Matmuratov’s comfort in attacking from that sort of stance is fairly unique. With his feet level, long straight punches become more difficult without a front foot to transfer weight to, but both sides of his body end up about the same distance to the target. He can throw both hands with the same speed and power and without an exaggerated weight transfer, the blows are difficult to read.

Matmuratov often attacks in blitzes, walking his punches forward with square hips and shoulders.

Stepping forward with his leg opposite the punching hand adds power to the punches even without boxing-style hip rotation. Since he’s walking forward rather than rushing blind, his attacks out of the blitz are responsive too. He’ll pump out a few soft punches to draw up a guard and send a hard hooking blow outside it or smash the body. He’ll also anticipate counters and look to send a knee or kick to the ribs underneath them. Matmuratov’s hands serve to block and disrupt the opponent when he isn’t punching, and he’ll change levels and dip out the side if he anticipates a return.

While Matmuratov does a good job mitigating the openings his squared up combinations leave, there’s still a lot of inherent risk to stepping through combinations involving multiple shifts. A key aspect to making it work is picking the right time to leave stance, where the opponent isn’t in a strong position to counter, especially as a shorter fighter who usually needs to close distance to reach his man. Matmuratov’s most consistent entry to his blitzing combinations is to change levels underneath a jab and enter to the body.

Getting underneath the jab gives Matmuratov a short window of relative safety where he can step in and follow the punch as it retracts. By the time they recover, he’s gotten off a few blows and crowded them, smothering their opportunity to counter. Part of the reason it’s such an effective counter is that it’s unexpected - a fighter who just dipped beneath your jab is typically looking for a big right hand or left hook upstairs, but rattling off a combination to the body while plowing forward isn’t anyone’s first guess, and it allows him to set up further surprise shots upstairs.

The square stance of Matmuratov enables him to get in underneath the jab and rattle off a few quick punches before the opponent can counter. If they retreat or throw up a guard, he can keep working with quick, short punches. While these punches lack the fight-ending power of a hook with full hip rotation, his forward momentum and shoulder rotation get some juice into them, and over time they’ll wear down on an opponent’s gas tank if not curtailed.

Matmuratov’s marching footwork also plays in perfectly with his front kicks. In MMA, front kicks are typically used as a long-range tool by fighters trying to hold ground or avoid exchanges, but they’re useful for closing distance too. During Matmuratov’s blitzes, if an opponent backs farther away to recover some space, he’ll flick the ball of his foot into their tummy rather than risk rushing onto a counter.

The front kick flows right out of his stepping punches, as if a punch falls short, he’s already stepping forward, positioning his rear leg on the open side for a powerful kick. He can link exchanges together by stepping through into a front kick as his man disengages, then planting his kicking foot down right in front of them and resuming his flurry. The front kicks also cover his own exits, as he’ll occasionally step back to a level stance and intercept his opponent with the kick as they follow.

But the most interesting aspect of Matmuratov’s skillset to me is his defense. He’s a difficult man to score clean kicks on - not only does his square stance allow him to quickly pick up a leg and point his knee outwards to check, but he has a deep bag of crafty counters to punish kicks. He’s proficient in the Karate-style cross catch, the mechanics of which we’ve gone over previously.

It’s against spinning kicks where Matmuratov’s cleverness really shines, however, as he consistently hits one of the coolest counters I’ve seen in combat sports. When faced with a spinning back kick, Matmuratov simply powerbombs his opponent on their head.

When he sees the spin coming, he dashes outside the kick, drawing his rear foot and shoulder forward to crowd it and letting it fall onto his lowered arm in a scoop grip. He then grabs inside the shoulder to keep his opponent’s shoulders level and prevent them from bellying down. Finally, his far leg bumps their planting leg out at the thigh and he tosses them straight at the mat. Bumping high on the leg is key to getting good elevation, just like in a well executed Thai-style sweep but instead of pushing them over an invisible table, he’s chucking them at the ground like Kevin Nash.

There’s a lot of neat little tricks in Matmuratov’s game, but his unorthodox defense in the pocket is by far the coolest. The big problem with using a Karate style attack on the inside is that it is, by design, a very upright style. They tend to punch with a straight back and momentum that goes in a straight line, without the innovations made by boxing in rotational weight transfers and hip fold that naturally take the head away from return fire.

Without smooth hips folds, a fighter needs to be skilled in anticipating the openings he’s leaving and covering them with his arms if he’s to operate at length on the inside. But a high guard is tricky here too, since it doesn’t mesh well with the chain punching sequences, and leaves a lot of gaps for small gloves to sneak through. Instead, Matmuratov has found a way to incorporate traditional Karate deflections into his attack, covering the exposed parts of his head with forearm or shoulder, or even just swatting his opponent’s blows out of the air.

Matmuratov’s square stance leaves his shoulders relatively level, which means there’s some daylight for strikes on both sides of his face. But as the shoulder rotates into a straight punch, the punching shoulder briefly covers the chin. Matmuratov is conscious of this and will pattern his punches in a way that covers openings. When I say he defends punches with his own punches, it sounds like the sort of nonsense Koji Oishi infamously employed against Nick Diaz when trying to boop his punches straight out of the air, but Matmuratov does it in a much more sensible way, throwing away punches just to get shoulder or forearm in front of an oncoming attack.

Matmuratov will often end combinations or start engagements with an awkward swivel jab, or a corkscrew hook with his shoulder internally rotated. Whether the punch lands or not is immaterial, as the purpose is to get his shoulder in front of his chin, covering against an orthodox rear hand or southpaw lead hook, and with his minimal rotational weight transfer, he can answer with several blows in the time it takes his opponent to recover from their more committed weight transfer.

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The white whale of Muay Thai fanatics and collectors was discovered recently, as footage emerged of the legendary fight between “The S…

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