Two years ago Leon Edwards distinguished himself to a fight public that still confused him, somewhat regularly, with Leon Roberts. That night in London he beat Gunnar Nelson by split decision, which was pretty cool. But what really made him materialize before our eyes was a backstage encounter with Jorge Masvidal.
Edwards interrupted a Masvidal interview with some choice words in passing. Masvidal casually moseyed over to Edwards and served him the infamous combo, the old “three-piece with the soda.” The whole thing was of course caught on camera. Masvidal turned into a kind of cult hero overnight, and rarely wears anything but pajamas and robes anymore.
And Edwards? Well…I mean, Edwards just…he’s been trying to…see the thing is, it’s not Leon’s fault. Not entirely.
Since that Masvidal encounter Edwards has been just about the strangest winningest fighter you’ll ever hope to come across. He has been accused of being everything from a title contender to a helpless no-sell artist. He set up shop behind the eight ball in a division that’s always giving in to his loudest counterparts. His voice is forever being drowned out by noise.
Then there’s the “luck” aspect. Luck hasn’t exactly been on Leon’s side. In fact, luck still calls Leon Edwards Leon Roberts.
It’s gotten to the point that when Dana White said Edwards was 100 percent next for a title shot against Kamaru Usman if he beats Belal Muhammad on Saturday night, my first thought was that his odds are right around 50/50. Or maybe 40/60. There are no 100 percent anythings when it comes to Leon, the world’s first great C-side. All Masvidal has to do is ratchet up talks for that rematch with Usman for Edwards to turn back into contender flannel.
The thing is, you know I’m not wrong.
A year ago, just before the pandemic wiped out all the UFC’s big intentions and made matchmaking a kind of first come, first serve free-for-all, Edwards was training for a fight with former champion Tyron Woodley. The fight was meant to be a showcase of sorts, back home in London, in front of Edwards’ English fan base. I’m not going to run down all that’s happened since then. Hitchcock covered most of this ground in his movie Vertigo. Safe to say that the coronavirus hasn’t been merciful to Edwards.
Not only did the Woodley fight evaporate, but, for a hot minute there, so did he. He vanished altogether from the UFC rankings. Then he showed back up again. He has been booked three times to fight Khamzat Chimaev, but Covid has hit that match-up harder than Katrina did the Gulf. All of that switcherooing and bad luck started to form a sketch of what life was going to look like for Edwards whenever he finally returned.
That sketch looks exactly like Belal Muhammad, the same Belal Muhammad who fought just a few weeks ago against Dhiego Lima. The same who just kind of overwhelmed Lima for 15 minutes, pressuring him, smothering him, just basically sapping him of will. The kind of guy nobody wants to face because he is essentially a welterweight version of Jean Paul Sartre’s Nausea.
A big title eliminator with the former welterweight champ Woodley in front of 20,000 English partisans? Shyeah, right. Not for Rocky. How about a fight with an unsung grindologist, who’s won seven of his last eight fights and whose sole purpose in fighting is to turn things positively existential, in a tiny cage in an empty ballroom in Vegas. Honestly, either somebody’s sticking pins in an Edwards doll somewhere and cackling like a madman, or Edwards is the unluckiest bastard in the fight game.
Though there is still this: Leon Edwards has won eight straight fights in the UFC, going back to a 2015 loss to Usman. If he beats Muhammad, that makes it nine. Other than Usman, no welterweight comes close to that kind of run. It’s incredible. Not the win streak, exactly, but the idea that guaranteeing a title shot for a guy like that feels so 50/50.