Topuria's unstoppable confidence — knowing exactly what ice cream he wants and grabbing it — won him three straight fights. But when you get stale, nasty mint chocolate chip, you have no plan B. Gaethje knew that and told him so before the fight.
Podbit · The Joe Rogan Experience
Topuria's unstoppable confidence — knowing exactly what ice cream he wants and grabbing it — won him three straight fights. But when you get stale, nasty mint chocolate chip, you have no plan B. Gaethje knew that and told him so before the fight.
Where this was said
At 6:27 · chapter starts 3:30
Rogan pivots to the relationship between Gaethje and Wittman, calling out their YouTube series The Art of Violence as a rare, revealing document of coach and athlete in sync. Wittman pushes back on the idea of coaches who treat fighters only as friends: he considers Gaethje one of his best friends, but his primary role is that of a father who must tell hard truths even when they sting — and sometimes must let fighters go, like children, to find their own way before returning. His job, he explains, began when he sat down with Gaethje and asked about his goals. Back then the goals were to be the most exciting, most violent fighter in the world — a man people paid to see. Then the goal shifted to wanting the belt, and that change demanded hard adjustments. He uses a mint chocolate chip ice cream analogy to describe Topuria's relentless certainty and explains why that same certainty became his undoing when he met the stale version of what he expected. [1] — Trevor Wittman "Topuria's unstoppable confidence — knowing exactly what ice cream he wants and grabbing it — won him three straight fights. But when you ge…" 06:27
Thomas's wife deferred her CrossFit career — she's in the global top 1% of athletes — to put him through law school debt-free. He wants her to chase the dream now; she wants the emergency fund and house down payment first. On a $200K lawyer income with no debt, the opportunity cost is just a few months of slower saving.
Underground calisthenics battles are exactly like UFC meets a rap battle — 150 people crowded around a circle, fighters walking out with masks and chains, nicknames like 'Extra Money' vs 'Calisthenics the Prince,' and people throwing money and betting. The battle set: 100 burpees, 50 muscle-ups, 75 dips, 75 squats with a 65-pound dumbbell. This is the next big spectator sport.
Rico Verhoeven controlled the undisputed heavyweight boxing champion for approximately 10 rounds — and had his appeal upheld when officials admitted the fight was stopped after the bell. The result was never overturned. Rogan calls it either incompetence or corruption, and argues the money behind Usyk made an upset politically inconvenient.
Rogan lays out a blunt case: boxing's 3-judge system is structurally broken, and the judges know who the promoter wants to win. Glory's 5-judge format is the right model. Corruption doesn't have to be conscious — just knowing Usyk is the cash cow is enough to tilt the scales.
With the Usyk-Wilder fight stalling and Fury-Joshua coming too late, the real fight the world wants is the rematch. Rico is a free agent. Usyk vacated his belts. The story is unfinished and both Rogan and Rico know it. His Excellency Turki Alasheikh already called for it ringside — the question is money.
Rico texted Jason Statham during the Canelo-Crawford fight. Statham showed Rico's highlight videos to promoters. Two days later, Rico was on a call about fighting Anthony Joshua. When Joshua pulled out, Rico pitched Usyk himself — Undisputed vs. Undisputed. Usyk said yes in two weeks. The whole thing started with one text.
Every heavyweight who faced Usyk tried to move to the right — straight into his power hand. Rico and Peter Fury identified the obvious solution: move left, away from the left hand, and smother him with size. It sounds simple. Nobody had done it. That one adjustment was the foundation of 10 dominant rounds.
MMA fans boo when fights go to the ground. They love stand-up. Kickboxing is pure stand-up. Yet it barely exists in America while boxing and MMA are enormous. Rogan's diagnosis: no promotion machine. If the UFC got behind kickboxing the way they've built MMA, it would explode. The talent is there — the storytelling machine is not.
A nation of 17 million people gave the world Ramon Deckers, Peter Aerts, Badr Hari, Melvin Manhoef, Rob Kamen, Ernesto Hoost, and Rico Verhoeven. Rico's theory: the country is so small that every gym shares knowledge freely. In the US, you need a flight. In Holland, you drive 40 minutes and spar the national champion.
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