If you did one of those time lapses of Tom Aspinall sitting around waiting on Jon Jones for the past five-and-a-half months, you’d see the seasons come and go through the window behind him and perhaps the first gray hairs of spring starting to bloom.
Aspinall was hopeful he’d get Jones soon enough to unify the heavyweight title. But with each passing day you have to wonder if he’s … oh God, it’s not this again, is it? Is … is he getting Chandlered?
Poor Michael Chandler waited around for Conor McGregor for a long, long time — nearly two years in the earner’s portion of his twilight — only to learn that the fight was nothing more than a mirage. Just a crumb trail to Nedsville. It was never going to happen. McGregor messes with people’s lives for sport. At the end of the day, the only thing Chandler got for his time and patience was a better understanding of his own gullibility.
I don’t want to call Aspinall gullible, but that’s where this kind of optimism often ends up. Especially because Jon Jones has become a bit of a tease. We don’t know what he wants to do, but we do know nobody plays harder to get than him. If he’s using his seven-foot wingspan at all these days, it’s to hold his own legacy over everybody’s head, just out of reach of the nearest contender. Or, in the case of Tiptoe Tom, the nearest (interim) champion.
How deep does Aspinall’s patience roll? How long before his surprisingly deft footwork turns to happy feet? He just watched his 32nd birthday come and go a couple of weeks back, which is a reminder that time moves in only one direction. Life is too short to wait on someone else’s timetable. I mean, King Richard III was dead at 32.
A popular refrain right now among paid professionals is to say something like, “I don’t think Jon Jones is afraid of Tom Aspinall,” a qualifier just to be on the safe side of things. Who wants to accuse one of the UFC’s all-time greats of being afraid of anyone? Yet so much in the UFC is often left to appearances. Within these appearances are inferences, and within these inferences are strong suspicions that turn into opinions that turn into arguments and, at some point, in the minds of the certain, they round a corner to become “fact.”
Let’s face it, the appearance right now is that Jones is a legacy germaphobe who doesn’t want some Johnny-come-lately’s grubby little hands soiling up his body of work. He doesn’t see anybody as worthy (except maybe Alex Pereira). He doesn’t see enough zeroes on the offers. He doesn’t see a four-month training camp as adequate. He sees the little rubber ducks that show up at events, but he’s never been much for fowl. If he’s a lion, as he’s likened himself to be so many times in the glorious past, he’s bushed by the afternoon sun.
Since the pandemic hit in 2020, the dude’s fought twice — twice in five years. Once against Ciryl Gane (which was impressive as hell). Once against Stipe Miocic (or rather, the husk of Stipe Miocic).
The Francis Ngannou fight that was tailor-made as a blockbuster event a couple of years back? Didn’t happen.
Which is why this all feels so familiar. And it’s why the rubber duckies stay afloat.
If Jones doesn’t end up fighting the interim champion Aspinall, a big part of that legacy he’s protecting will be that he protected his legacy. The old ouroboros, no matter the direction of the spin. The UFC sets up “interim” titles as placeholder belts until the champion is ready to go. It’s a “stand-in accessory,” a kind of fight game promise ring.
In most cases, the real champion is coming back from something more definitive, like an injury. Jones? He’s just idling with the title. His feet are kicked up. He’s got the heavyweight division buckled in for his joyride. Is he holding out for $15 million? From the sounds of it, the UFC has come correct. They have tried to make the fight. It’s all up to Jones. Anyone who is a fight fan wants that fight, but Jonny Bones hasn’t signed.
Will he today? Tomorrow? Next week? Next month? Jones likes to keep everyone jonesing, just like that Irish fellow who turned a good man’s fate into the verb.
Chandlered.
Who knows, maybe he has an aversion to dotted lines. But if the UFC moves on and books Aspinall into any other fight, it should be for the actual heavyweight title, with no interim tag. If Jones doesn’t want to defend it, then the UFC must take it from him. Aspinall has been willing to wait for Jones, but the UFC shouldn’t. How much time is too much time?
Aspinall defended the interim title last July, and is no closer to knowing the answer nine months later.
If you did one of those time lapses of Tom Aspinall sitting around waiting on Jon Jones for the past five-and-a-half months, you’d see the seasons come and go through the window behind him and perhaps the first gray hairs of spring starting to bloom.
Aspinall was hopeful he’d get Jones soon enough to unify the heavyweight title. But with each passing day you have to wonder if he’s … oh God, it’s not this again, is it? Is … is he getting Chandlered?
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Poor Michael Chandler waited around for Conor McGregor for a long, long time — nearly two years in the earner’s portion of his twilight — only to learn that the fight was nothing more than a mirage. Just a crumb trail to Nedsville. It was never going to happen. McGregor messes with people’s lives for sport. At the end of the day, the only thing Chandler got for his time and patience was a better understanding of his own gullibility.
I don’t want to call Aspinall gullible, but that’s where this kind of optimism often ends up. Especially because Jon Jones has become a bit of a tease. We don’t know what he wants to do, but we do know nobody plays harder to get than him. If he’s using his seven-foot wingspan at all these days, it’s to hold his own legacy over everybody’s head, just out of reach of the nearest contender. Or, in the case of Tiptoe Tom, the nearest (interim) champion.
How deep does Aspinall’s patience roll? How long before his surprisingly deft footwork turns to happy feet? He just watched his 32nd birthday come and go a couple of weeks back, which is a reminder that time moves in only one direction. Life is too short to wait on someone else’s timetable. I mean, King Richard III was dead at 32.
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A popular refrain right now among paid professionals is to say something like, “I don’t think Jon Jones is afraid of Tom Aspinall,” a qualifier just to be on the safe side of things. Who wants to accuse one of the UFC’s all-time greats of being afraid of anyone? Yet so much in the UFC is often left to appearances. Within these appearances are inferences, and within these inferences are strong suspicions that turn into opinions that turn into arguments and, at some point, in the minds of the certain, they round a corner to become “fact.”
Let’s face it, the appearance right now is that Jones is a legacy germaphobe who doesn’t want some Johnny-come-lately’s grubby little hands soiling up his body of work. He doesn’t see anybody as worthy (except maybe Alex Pereira). He doesn’t see enough zeroes on the offers. He doesn’t see a four-month training camp as adequate. He sees the little rubber ducks that show up at events, but he’s never been much for fowl. If he’s a lion, as he’s likened himself to be so many times in the glorious past, he’s bushed by the afternoon sun.
Since the pandemic hit in 2020, the dude’s fought twice — twice in five years. Once against Ciryl Gane (which was impressive as hell). Once against Stipe Miocic (or rather, the husk of Stipe Miocic).
The Francis Ngannou fight that was tailor-made as a blockbuster event a couple of years back? Didn’t happen.
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Which is why this all feels so familiar. And it’s why the rubber duckies stay afloat.
If Jones doesn’t end up fighting the interim champion Aspinall, a big part of that legacy he’s protecting will be that he protected his legacy. The old ouroboros, no matter the direction of the spin. The UFC sets up “interim” titles as placeholder belts until the champion is ready to go. It’s a “stand-in accessory,” a kind of fight game promise ring.
In most cases, the real champion is coming back from something more definitive, like an injury. Jones? He’s just idling with the title. His feet are kicked up. He’s got the heavyweight division buckled in for his joyride. Is he holding out for $15 million? From the sounds of it, the UFC has come correct. They have tried to make the fight. It’s all up to Jones. Anyone who is a fight fan wants that fight, but Jonny Bones hasn’t signed.
Will he today? Tomorrow? Next week? Next month? Jones likes to keep everyone jonesing, just like that Irish fellow who turned a good man’s fate into the verb.
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Chandlered.
Who knows, maybe he has an aversion to dotted lines. But if the UFC moves on and books Aspinall into any other fight, it should be for the actual heavyweight title, with no interim tag. If Jones doesn’t want to defend it, then the UFC must take it from him. Aspinall has been willing to wait for Jones, but the UFC shouldn’t. How much time is too much time?
Aspinall defended the interim title last July, and is no closer to knowing the answer nine months later.
