– Paul Dollery reports from Las Vegas
SINCE HIS SECOND fight with the organisation — against Max Holloway in Boston in August 2013 — the UFC have been trying to convince the world that Ireland completely shuts down when Conor McGregor fights.
And they’re right. Most of his bouts have taken place in the US, in the early hours of the morning east of the Atlantic, when the vast majority of Irish people are asleep.
It was classic promotional propaganda from the UFC and, for the most part, it worked. As his profile increased at an unprecedentedly rapid pace for an MMA fighter, the international audience looked on in envy and awe at McGregor flying the flag for the people of plucky little Ireland, who were at home, gathered around their radios and television sets at 5am, hoping that the wind and rain wouldn’t interfere with the aerials atop their cottages, their hands chained together by rosary beads, praying that Padre Pio, St Patrick, the Pope, or whichever religious deity happened to be awake at that hour on the sabbath, would guide their favourite fighting son safely to victory against the might of the USA, Brazil and Germany. Afterwards, there’d be pots of tea, warm bottles of stout and tales of the great Jack Dempsey.
The reality? A few thousand die-hard fans made the journey for the fights, thousands more stayed up to watch from home, but the majority were satisfied to find out via their smartphones when they woke up on Sunday morning. That, in itself, is quite impressive, of course.
McGregor has almost singlehandedly been responsible for the spontaneous explosion in popularity of an entire sport in Ireland and he can be proud of those initial results. It just wasn’t quite a case of ‘the nation holds its breath’ as the rest of the world was led to believe.
This Saturday night, however, the UFC’s lofty claims may finally be somewhat accurate. In Ireland today, it seems there are few who don’t have some form of interest in McGregor’s fortunes. The number of people who want to see him win may only be marginally greater than the number hoping for the opposite outcome, but they’re all interested in how the result comes about nevertheless… and therein lies the key to the fascination with the UFC interim featherweight champion.
His detractors are just as keen to watch him as his supporters, which is fine with McGregor and the UFC. As long as they’re tuning in, irrespective of their reasons for doing so, business is booming.
This weekend, McGregor could become a bona fide world champion. No more doubts. No more questions. No more ‘interim’. The accusations that he has been protected by the UFC, given an easy ride, groomed for success? They’re a thing of the past. But he must still overcome Jose Aldo at UFC 194 to provide indisputable evidence that, as the 27-year-old Dubliner has been at pains to tell us, he truly has no equal.
After his win over Chad Mendes in July, which saw McGregor dragged into deep waters by a legitimate contender for the first time, the feedback on forums, social media and comment sections like the one below this article suggested that there had been a marked change in tone towards the Irish star.
He might sometimes go overboard when he’s in front of a microphone, but fair play, he can back it up.
That was the gist.
People increasingly began to distinguish the talent from the trash talk, which is why more Irish men and women than ever before will be awake at 5am on Sunday morning to watch two lads fighting in a cage.
In a country where we never hesitate to congregate around any team or athlete who bears the scent of the potential for global success, it can be difficult to assess the true scale of the impact of somebody like Conor McGregor outside that bubble of patriotism. How big is he and does anybody else care?
Apparently so. On my connecting flight from Heathrow to Las Vegas yesterday, a McGregor-themed conversation was within earshot more often than not.
“I’m guessing you guys are all flying out for the Conor McGregor fight,” said an American passenger nearby.
“Absolutely,” replied the Englishman beside him. “Put your money on Aldo going down inside two rounds.”
The taxi driver who took me to Dublin Airport yesterday morning lamented the decision of a teenage Conor McGregor to stop playing football. The chap had coached Conor in Crumlin, he explained. Before he became an MMA star, McGregor was a skilful left winger who could have made a professional career from the game.
“But it was never enough for him,” the driver said. “He tended to drift away quite a bit. Football never satisfied him fully. His calling was somewhere else.”
But his decision to leave football behind has been justified?
“Without a doubt. At least his left leg is still earning him money by kicking something anyway.”
En route to Las Vegas yesterday, the main talking point among Conor McGregor’s confident fans was how, and not if, he’ll be victorious this weekend. A knockout before the fight reaches the championship rounds was the general consensus.
For the first time in his career, Jose Aldo, the reigning UFC featherweight champion, one of the most dominant fighters of his generation, undefeated in 10 years, is an extra in someone else’s show.
But if you’re staying up late on Saturday night to see an Irishman crowned world champion, don’t anticipate a foregone conclusion. Ireland may be standing still as Conor McGregor engages in that first exchange, but Aldo is more than capable of knocking the nation off its feet.
Whatever the outcome, this is one episode of The Conor McGregor Show that you won’t want to sleep through.
