MMA System: I Will Be Pound For Pound Goat

The moment the round started, Balim pressed forward like he'd flipped a switch. He wasn't throwing wild punches or swinging for the fences, he was controlled. But his pace had changed. His feet moved with urgency, his jab was more active, and the look in his eyes was different.

PDD noticed it right away. His hands stayed high as he circled, testing range, but Balim didn't let him breathe. He stayed just close enough to force reactions, making PDD twitch on every feint.

Rich Alvarez, on commentary, leaned in, eyebrows raised.

"Okay! Looks like Balim found a second wind."

Jon Goodman added,

"This is not what anyone expected. The man's known for slowing down late, now he's the one turning up the heat."

The champion responded with a right hand that landed clean on Balim's chin, but Balim didn't take a step back. He rolled with it, and countered with a stiff jab to the body, followed by a right hook that grazed PDD's temple.

The two men traded more now. Short shots. One at a time. In the pocket. PDD still had the crisper technique, but Balim's awkward rhythm gave him moments to land.

PDD threw a front kick to back him up, but Balim caught it mid-air and nearly dumped him there. PDD slipped free, resetting.

The crowd was fully in now, roaring every time a punch landed, every time one man pressed the other against the cage.

Then it happened.

Midway through the round, Balim feinted the overhand right, and as PDD raised his guard, Balim ducked low and shot for a takedown, deep, fast, perfect timing. PDD tried to sprawl, hips heavy, but Balim adjusted, switching to a double-leg and driving him toward the cage.

The champion stumbled back a step, then another.

And then, he was down.

Balim's arms locked around the legs, and he dragged PDD to the mat with a thud, landing right in half guard. The crowd erupted.

Marvin Duke nearly shouted over the commentary.

"He got it! Finally got it down! That's where he wants it!"

Balim didn't rush. He knew this was his best chance, and he had to use it right. He postured up slowly, trying to free a hand while keeping his base heavy.

PDD didn't panic, but he wasn't exactly calm. He worked to shift his hips, keeping Balim from advancing further.

Balim threw short elbows. One, two, three. All found skin.

PDD covered up, trying to slide out. He managed to recover full guard, but Balim stayed tight and aggressive, stacking forward and controlling the wrists.

Another elbow from the top.

Another body shot.

Jon Goodman chimed in again.

"This is trouble for the champ. He's not getting smashed, but these are minutes being banked for Balim."

The round wasn't over yet.

PDD finally got a butterfly hook in and exploded upward, trying to stand. Balim adjusted again, clinging tight like a vice. He didn't lose position, but PDD got to a knee, then all the way up, pressed back to the fence.

They clinched. Breathing hard. Sweat dripping. Hands fighting for control.

PDD turned him briefly and tried to break away, but Balim landed a sneaky knee to the ribs that made him hesitate.

Balim didn't let it happen.

He wrapped his arms tighter around the waist and pulled him down again, dragging him with sheer force. The crowd groaned in reaction. It wasn't flashy, but it was raw control.

This wasn't the kind of takedown that won fights on highlights. It was the kind that stole minutes, broke rhythm, and drained lungs.

Balim didn't give PDD time to reset.

The moment he dragged him down, he moved up the back, one hook in, hand fighting, his forehead pressed to PDD's shoulder. He wasn't throwing yet, he was working. Grinding. Every escape attempt that PDD tried, Balim was a half-step ahead. Weight perfectly balanced, hips tight, no daylight between them.

Rich Alvarez on commentary said what everyone was thinking.

"This is suffocating. This is what Balim does when he's on, he just does not let you breathe."

Jon Goodman followed up, "And look at the small details, he's using his head like a third arm. Elbow control, hook in, riding pressure, this is elite wrestling in action."

Balim finally postured up just enough to land an elbow behind the ear.

Then another.

Not hard enough to end the fight, but hard enough to keep PDD guessing.

PDD tried to roll.

Balim floated with him.

He tried to turn to his knees.

Balim reset to the back, dragging him down again.

It wasn't domination by strikes, it was domination by control.

And Balim wasn't just holding.

He was slowly breaking down PDD's frame. Forcing his muscles to do twice the work. Forcing mistakes.

And every time PDD tensed up to burst, Balim would grind an elbow into his ribs or ride him like a blanket, making the effort feel useless.

This wasn't a round Balim was going to give away.

Balim stayed glued to PDD's back, body low, pressure heavy. Every time PDD shifted, trying to roll or scramble, Balim adjusted, always one step ahead. But this time, he didn't just hold. He started setting traps.

He slid his right arm across PDD's face, not deep enough for a choke, but enough to force him to fight the hands. As PDD reached up to strip the grip, Balim slid his left arm under the chin and locked it to the bicep, only halfway.

It was a feint.

Balim let PDD turn slightly, just enough to create the illusion of escape. PDD went for it, trying to explode and spin inside the guard.

That's when Balim capitalized.

As PDD turned, Balim quickly adjusted, snaking his left leg over the shoulder, shifting his hips sideways. In one fluid motion, he fell back, locking his other leg over the head, triangle setup.

The crowd reacted, a ripple of excitement moving through the arena.

Jon Goodman jumped in, "He's going for it, Balim's attacking a triangle here!"

But PDD wasn't going to give it up easy.

The champ stacked forward, pushing down on the hips to keep pressure off his neck. Balim reached up, pulled the shin deeper, angling for a tighter squeeze. His ankles crossed, then uncrossed, he was adjusting, feeling the position, making sure every inch counted.

Then, he reached across, grabbed PDD's wrist and pulled the arm across his body.

Rich Alvarez: "That's tight now. That's deep. He's cutting the angle, if he gets that foot behind the knee, it's a wrap."

Balim did exactly that.

He locked the triangle fully. Squeezed. His thighs flexed, his hips lifted slightly.

PDD's posture broke.

He planted one hand on the mat, the other clawing at the trapped arm.

His feet shifted.

His head dropped.

But he wasn't out. Not yet.

He twisted, moved just enough to relieve some pressure, but Balim adjusted again, keeping the bite strong.

Marvin Duke chimed in, "You can't make mistakes down here. One breath too many and it's lights out."

Balim cranked it once more, face calm, legs tightening.

He wasn't there yet, but he was close.