“We want blood! » The tone is set: the public demands bread and games. Still intoxicated by the Olympic Games, Coubertin’s spirit quickly gave way to violence. Make no mistake, the gladiator legacy is still present. Outside the Parisian arena, urban music raises the tension, and the electric atmosphere promises a high-intensity evening.
On the program, 14 fights, no “matches”. No time to linger or fall asleep: here, the spectacle is master. Between the light shows and the electronic music that hammers at full volume, the American touch is omnipresent. Bruce Buffer, iconic announcer, presents the fighters with an intensity that seems to make his vocal cords vibrate, true to his legendary signature.
But when the round begins, after the ring girl has passed, darkness falls on the arena, leaving only an illuminated octagon: the raw truth of the cage. Each impact resonates, and all eyes are fixed on the two gladiators, so as not to miss a blow or a thrill. It’s hard not to get goosebumps when an entire audience chants a well-known military anthem with one voice. This song galvanizes the champion, who grasps every word. The people want to see the blood of the enemy water their furrows.
It didn’t take long before the spectators tasted victory. In the 5th fight, the second with a French fighter, Taylor Lapilus won the judges’ decision. The arena exults and chants the name of its favorite. The evening is definitely on! The UFC logos invade the space, like an empire that leaves no room for competition. The brand, so powerful, even goes beyond its own sport: some spectators come to confuse the UFC (Ultimate Fighting Championship) with MMA (Mixed Martial Arts).
“We are at home, we are at home!” » France takes over the event: 9 out of 28 fighters are tricolor, and the blue, white and red flags fly proudly. American commentators admit: “The French public never disappoints. » A fighter in difficulty? A Marseillaise. A fighter in a state of grace? A Marseillaise. The public becomes the real star of the event, recalling the enthusiasm of the Olympics, but with added violence. Reddened faces, bruises and scars from a fierce fight are exposed under the spotlight. The double penalty of a knockout looms: not only losing the fight, but also seeing your face disconnected under the merciless eye of the UFC cameras, before falling prey to social networks. It’s the whimsical Morgan Charrière who provokes the first of the evening, with a left jab on Gabriel Miranda, all while celebrating with a little dance.
The rest after this ad
An entry on Aznavour
We’re getting to the heart of the matter. The Lyonnais Farès Ziam faces the transatlantic Francophile Matt Frevola, who enters on Charles Aznavour. Metronome, Farès, carried by his audience, recalls the technical and brutal beauty of this sport with a jumping knee to the jaw. The American, stunned, remained on the ground for more than a minute, surrounded by doctors. He ends up waking up, probably disoriented, no longer really understanding where he is, except in a boiling arena that is exulting in the face of his knockout. Thanks, see you next time.
The fights continue, with a solid 5 victories out of 7 for the French, but all eyes are now on the main fight, the apotheosis of the evening, the Parisian showcase. A unique atmosphere sets in: the French commando is approaching. The champion of champions, the one who carries the event on his shoulders, Benoit Saint-Denis, is preparing to face the Brazilian Renato Moicano. True to himself, the former soldier enters to the sound of a military song, draped in the French flag, with the cross tattooed on his heart.
The first round will delight his detractors. The Nîmes suffered a real storm of blows. Moicano brings Saint-Denis to the ground and continues the strikes: punches followed by violent elbows fall on the Frenchman’s face. Like a symbol, the octagon, still immaculate after 13 fights, turns red under the blows inflicted on the former special forces man. But nothing stops him. Coming back to his senses, Saint-Denis dominated the second round, despite the incessant strikes of the Brazilian who relentlessly targeted the “BSD” wounds and edema. With his face unrecognizable, open and bloody, the French fighter returns to his clan at the end of the second round.
That’s when whistles are heard. For what ? A man in a suit enters the octagon, and everyone understands: this is not a good sign. It’s the “doc”. Jean-Marc Sène, official doctor for the evening, comes to examine Benoît’s condition. His right eye is completely closed, and the left is seriously affected. After a quick examination, the verdict falls: BSD is no longer able to fight. The doctor informs the referee, who has no choice but to stop the fight. The defeat is bitter, and the party a little spoiled.
The veteran takes the time to humbly thank the public before leaving, defeated and damaged. But the evening does not stop there. A timeless interview is improvised. Renato Moicano, visibly without filter, grabs the microphone: “Fuck Macron,” he says before unleashing himself. What follows sounds like a real editorial: a tirade against the evils of globalism, a government that “does not respect democracy” and a French Revolution which “tried to wipe God off the map. But guess what? Jesus is more alive than ever! » he exclaims. The audience seems receptive to his speech.
Outside, the fans are divided between enthusiasm and disappointment. “Lots of thrills, but disappointed by the conclusion”admet Mats. “I’m disgusted for Benoît but so happy for Morgan”confides Julien. Little by little, the Accor Arena volcano is emptying. A popular and sporting celebration which marks the third episode of UFC Paris. See you next year?
