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Dotun Akintoye, ESPN.com
Whether Jon Jones is using the leverage of retirement to up his price for future bouts, or has run out of opponents that excite him, or is seriously contemplating the end of his career, it’s clear his heavyweight title fight against longtime former champion Stipe Miocic on Saturday is likely one of the final times we’ll see Jones (27-1, 1 NC) in the Octagon.
From becoming the youngest champion in UFC history by stopping Mauricio Rua, to defeating Ciryl Gane to become a two-division champion, Jones has cemented himself as the greatest mixed martial artist of all time in the minds of fans, analysts and many of his peers.
The man at the center of that achievement remains largely a mystery, maybe even to himself. As erratic outside the cage as he is inevitable within it, Jones has amassed a track record of legal problems and troubling personal conduct. “There’s many sides to Jon. And I feel, in a lot of ways, Jon is still figuring out the many sides of himself,” says Rashad Evans, his former teammate, rival and friend.
Jones’ brilliance is beyond dispute. He’s been in every kind of fight there is. He’s submitted opponents, knocked them out, or simply gritted his teeth and outlasted them. His is a career of startling range, defined by one thing, no one has ever beaten him. But if this is the end, what was the greatest of all time made of? There is no one better to answer this question than the men who had to stand and face him in the Octagon.
I asked three former opponents — Anthony Smith, Rashad Evans, and Chael Sonnen — to watch back through their fights against Jones — this time as analysts and storytellers — and tell us what they saw. Though no two fights are the same, all three men told similar stories: Jones executed a game plan that neutralized them and adjusted in ways that surprised them. They extoll his unique fighting mind and his rare gifts.
“As a complete system. His whole game, the way that it’s put together, the way that it’s structured, the way that it’s organized, and the way that he implements it is the best in the world,” Smith says.
“There’s no one that’s even close.”
FACING JON JONES
Jones vs. Evans, 2012: Jones recently told ESPN that the Evans fight was one of the three most important bouts of his career. “Evans really elevated me, as an athlete. I know that I had to bring something new to beat him,” Jones says.
For Evans, a friend and former teammate of Jones at Jackson Wink MMA Academy, the fight was personal. Evans had opposed Jones’ joining the camp, saying it risked crowding the gym with too many egos and would lead to an unspoken agreement preventing its top fighters from competing against each other in the UFC. Eventually, Jones’ rise caused Evans to leave. “They chose him over me,” Evans says, describing his feelings before the fight. “It was hurt. It was betrayal, anger.”
Evans says he was as anxious as he had ever been before a fight. But he thought he knew what to expect. “I knew how good Jon was, but then I also remember how it was in practice,” Evans says. “I’ll get him in the positions I normally get him in and just work.”
Jones vs. Sonnen, 2013: The two men were meant to fight in the fall of 2012 after Jones’ original opponent, Dan Henderson, withdrew with injuries. But with the change happening just eight days before the event, Jones turned it down. They finally met at UFC 159 the next spring, after coaching against each other in the 17th season of The Ultimate Fighter. Sonnen recalls Jones was distracted and not in the mood to train. “I trained there every day, twice a day, six days a week. I worked so hard just in the month that we were filming,” Sonnen says. “Jon Jones never broke a sweat, didn’t come to a number of practices.”
Sonnen thought Jones was taking him lightly and wouldn’t be prepared for a prolonged fight. Even when Jones went into fight camp ahead of the event, Sonnen heard rumors. “‘This guy only comes in three days a week. And he shows up late. And he leaves early.’ I heard that from a number of his teammates. But they also said, ‘I’ve never seen him lose, even in practice.'”
Jones vs. Smith, 2019: This was Smith’s very first title fight in the UFC, and despite the fact this was Jones’ second title reign at light heavyweight, and his 13th straight title fight or defense, Smith says he was not intimidated. “I was never worried that Jon was going to hurt me,” he says. “I would say Volkan Oezdemir will hurt you. If Dominick Reyes gets a clean shot on you, he’s gonna hurt you. Guys like Glover Teixeira. Jiří Procházka is gonna hurt you. Aleksandar Rakić, anything he does is gonna hurt.”
But by the time they arrived inside the cage together at UFC 235, the scale of the event and of Jones himself, became obvious. “I remember thinking, ‘Is this for real? This is a small-town Nebraska dude. Here I am with Jon Jones locked in a cage on pay-per-view in front of everybody. Let’s f—ing go!'”
“I’d never paid attention to the timing of title fights,” he says. “I felt like I was in the Octagon forever, because I walked first… And then it just took so long. Like, the walkout was so long. It took him forever to get in the Octagon. And then his music played forever when he was inside of it. And then Buffer was doing his announcements. And that took forever. And then we finally came to the middle.”
Jones’ weight cut appeared difficult to Smith, but now face to face, Jones loomed over him. “I was just shocked at how big he was. He had put on so much weight,” Smith recalls. “His shoulders and his back were so wide.”
SIZE AND REACH
It’s not incidental that Jones, when asked in 2021 about potentially taking on Francis Ngannu, talked about wanting “to look like a titan.” Over a three-year layoff, Jones put on nearly 45 pounds before ascending to the heavyweight division. In the years prior, Jones dominated light heavyweights with his superior size and length (he has the second-longest measured reach in UFC history). It’s a major factor in his style and fight plan.
Smith remembers observing him before they faced off: “I remember he did that cartwheel when he first came in that he always does when he enters the Octagon. And just seeing as his body was cartwheeling, in the moment, it feels like he’s like peacocking on you, like, ‘Look at how large I am.'”
Evans realized early that this was not the young fighter he had mentored in the gym. In Jones’ first decision victory since becoming light heavyweight champion, he showed off a deeply sophisticated ability to dominate space against Evans. It’s rather simple: Jones was long enough to reach Evans without being touched back. So he did, just left his lead hand out, and with minimal effort, he made Evans feel like he was under pressure. It was an illusion, caginess masquerading as activity. Evans spent the rest of the night trying to figure out what to do about it. And everything he did next was a mistake.
Hand fighting
Evans: You see how that left hand keeps going out and I keep on having to adjust and then touch it, right? That was his whole plan. He just wanted to keep me so he’d be able to touch me… And what made it so hard with Jon is the fact that he’s so long but his length is not only with his offensive attack but it’s with his defense as well because whenever he’s able to keep his arms long, I’ll throw punches and my punches will hit his long arms.
He never went straight back. He always went in a little crescent moon. And he always gave an illusion as if he was a lot closer than he was. So then I would go through some traffic to try to return, and then he was so far away I wasn’t even close.
Sonnen: He measures guys. It’s called measuring. But he’ll put his hand out. He’s got a really long reach. So he’ll put his hand out as a way of just keeping you back and turn it into an elbow or punch you with the other hand.
Kicking
Smith and Evans describe a physical problem (the length of Jones’ kicking) which Jones turns into a mental one. Note Smith’s “invisible wall.” Note Evans’ description in granular detail, the slipping away of what he thought of as his only advantage; the ability to stay loose and explosive, to surprise Jones.
“I’m a rhythm fighter,” says Evans. “That’s why I dance like that when I’m in there. I’m dancing like that because I need to feel the rhythm. I need to hear that beat in my head. And I’m off my rhythm, and whenever I’m off my rhythm, I can’t flow.”
Smith: It’s his range from the waist down… So, now I’m a little bit stuck on the outside, because he’s managing the range. And I’m like right in that danger zone the whole time. Now, I’m trying to get out of it. See? ‘Cause I know I’m in kick range. And I don’t like it. It’s uncomfortable. It was almost like there’s an invisible wall between us and I can’t get to him.
Evans: Now, you notice my back right leg is getting kind of stiff and it’s not an athletic bend in my knees anymore? He’s taken away my movement, but I felt back then like I needed to have it a little bit more stable because he kept on trying to take out that front leg, and I was worried that he was going to kick inside a leg and then start hitting me in the obliques.
Strength
Sonnen: He pushed me into this position (against the cage) like a Mack truck versus a Volvo. This is a handful. This position I’m in right there with Jon Jones, I’ve been in that position with 51 other men. And I could really dominate those positions. And I wasn’t even close. I mean, when I was grabbing him, it was truly like being stuck in a cage with a bear. He was just better at this game. He was longer. His power was there.
Evans: So I’m like, “You know what? Maybe I’ll try to take him down. Maybe I’ll just try to see if I can get him down.” But then when I went down, he felt strong as s—. And I’m like, “This dude feels really strong.” Man, I can’t even get his legs. He just feels ungodly strong.”
FIGHT IQ
Jones’ opponents all talk up his intelligence as his greatest skill. He has clear, detailed fight plans, he doesn’t get emotional, and he solves problems at high speed. He takes your strengths away, then he takes you apart. “That’s what makes Jon Jones, Jon Jones,” says Smith. “If he knows you’re good somewhere, he’s gonna go there first. He just frustrates people.
“He just neutralizes you.”
Smith, who admits he needs activity to be his best, found Jones’ methodical approach stultifying. As we watch the fight together, Smith keeps marveling at how little Jones is actually doing.
Part of Jones’ brilliance is the ability to keep himself wholly apart from what’s happening. He gives his opponents no part of himself. Smith wanted a chance to retaliate, to exchange energy, instead, he spent much of the fight against the cage having to wear Jones’ weight. “That’s what’s frustrating,” Smith says of the night he calls the biggest fight of his life. “I didn’t feel like I was in a fight.”
Set-up
Evans: He’s very systemic about his approach. He didn’t rush it at all. He worked. He worked on a systemic basis, “OK. Here’s a problem. Rashad is gonna be low. I’m gonna start off low, but I gotta bring Rashad up and start doin’ some kicks to make him come up. When he comes up I’m gonna start touching his hands. I’m gonna start touching him, making him feel pressure.”
Smith: He’s not posturing up and punching. He’s not attacking submissions. He’s not even trying to pass. He’s just grinding. He’s cooking. He’s never in an actual position. He never set the hooks, you know what I mean? He’s just always in the gray area.
You’re just being heavy. You’re hanging on their head. They go to come up, you attack the neck. They go back down, you start punching. You’re always giving them something to worry about. So mentally, it’s exhausting, because you always have something to worry about. It’s tough.
Payoff
Jones springs his traps, either rapidly, in the form of sharp elbows that stagger and then floor Evans in the second round, or slowly, excruciatingly, as he saps Smith of energy and ideas.
Jones realized he couldn’t outbox Smith and instantly pivoted to a close-quarters, clinching, grinding affair, Smith says. Other fighters would have continued with what their plan was — which is another way of saying what they think they are and what their opponent is supposed to be. Not Jones, he fights in the real, the actual. No fantasies, no irrevocable plans. Only the man in front of him, and that man’s limits.
Evans: He got my hands engaged in the hand fight. And then now, at this point where I feel like I can’t quite throw anything anymore to keep him off, I’m like, “You know what? I’m just going to physically push him off. If he pushes with his hands, I’m gonna push with my hands.”
So, when he put his hands up, he’s pushing, and then I start pushing back. But that’s exactly what he wanted because when I started pushing back he would then retract his hands and then go over top with the elbow. So, he was using my own momentum to let me just fall in.
Smith: I just walked backward to the fence, really just looking to take a step out of it for a second and say, “What the f— is happening here?” I’m rolling through the Rolodex here, bro. I just can’t figure it out.
If we went back, I’d do another training camp right away. And it would be a much different fight. But I’d have to do another training camp for that. He made those adjustments in real-time.
PIVOTAL MOMENTS
Every fight has these, whether it’s a lapse of judgment or faltering of will, the moment one person loses. For Sonnen, who was stopped in the first round, and who thought his superior training would carry him late into the fight, the moment happened when he broke a promise to himself.
For Evans, emotional, and perhaps still thinking of himself as the teacher in his dynamic with Jones, it was not seeing the subtle trap the younger man had laid for him. “I was ready for all his tricks,” says Evans. “But it was the subtleties in his game… After a while, it adds up to a bigger picture.”
The moment for Smith is less clear. Watching the last two rounds, he keeps commenting on his own body language: “My legs aren’t even under me that well. It’s just more of the same. Now, I’m tired.”
I asked him if he thought of going for it late in the fight, trying to knock Jones out, or getting knocked out himself.
“It’s just a thing people say,” he answers. “It’s not that easy. We’ve been doing this for over 20 minutes. The average bar fight lasts 30 seconds and you have five people that are exhausted. And he’s been hanging on me for a lot of this. So I’ve been carrying him and me for 24 minutes at this point.”
Sonnen: I just keep saying it, “I’m gonna move forward as a way of tiring him out and getting him. And I’m gonna stay off the bottom. Stay off the bottom.” I’m telling myself that.
I had made a deal with myself that I’m gonna stay off the bottom. I don’t know what will happen. And I can accept whatever happens, including loss. But I will not be underneath this man. He will not come out and control me.
And when he got this takedown, his third all within a few minutes, and I’d only been taken off my feet twice in my entire career, I remember thinking, “You know what? Let’s change the plan. I’m gonna stay underneath him. I’m gonna let him take some shots and see if that wears him down.” But he was just so composed. Everywhere I moved, his hips moved. Mine go fast, his go nice, and slow, and methodical.
Mentally, where I started to change was that third takedown. That’s when I started to sell myself on a different deal, “I’m not gonna get off the bottom. I’ll do that next round. Let’s just ride this one out. We’ll reactivate the deal in the next round.”
And that’s never good when you start doing what’s called deal-making with yourself, “OK, I’m gonna eat this cheeseburger, but then I’ll run an extra mile tomorrow.” Deal-making is not good. So, that was the beginning of the end for me.
Evans: The moment when I lost that fight was when he was able to touch me consistently by reaching across with his hands. That was really the moment that I lost. When he desensitized that space it made it a lot easier for him to work. And I engaged with the hand fight. I was gonna have to fire back through those arms and then I run into that problem. So, what he was doing was desensitizing that area where I would normally be in punch mode.
Smith: I didn’t know it at the moment, but watching it back, any chance of me winning was done. After the third, his size started to wear on me. It was a lot. And that’s him being smart.
This work in the clinch, and the knees, and all this stuff, it’s just him making an investment. He’s investing in these last two rounds being easier. And they were.
MENTALITY
“There’s something deeper in his mind that allows him to compete,” says Evans of Jones.
I kept asking each of them: so what’s he like in there? The Jones that emerges from their descriptions is a violent impersonal force. Humorless, in pursuit, breathing slow, not flinching when hit, impossible to penetrate.
They don’t really know what Jones feels and that is so rare it might be singaulr. Fighters achieve an incredible amount of emotional intimacy with each other during a fight. This is why there’s all the hugging and forehead touching when it’s over. They know things about each other, they know how to hurt each other and they’ve been thinking about each other for months, maybe longer.
Jones, though, emerges from these encounters about as opaque as he was before. Smith remembers talking to Jones throughout the fight, goading him with gibes like, “I thought you’d be better here. I thought you hit harder. I thought you’d be tougher here.” Jones never said a word.
But then again he can be randomly whimsical, like the flying oblique kick he throws at Smith (“Crazy,” Smith says.) Or the way he leaps up and pulls guard at the end of the fifth round against Evans.
Imagine yourself alone in an elevator and someone else walks in but they don’t turn around to face the door and they don’t say a word. They just look at you without blinking, or maybe they smile, while you hurtle towards the sky.
Evans and Sonnen both describe feeling trapped. “I just couldn’t stop getting on his time,” Evans says. “I couldn’t break out of his time.”
Smith: He feels nothing. So, when his coaches tell him something, he just does it. He doesn’t question it. He doesn’t have to think about it. He just does it. He’s the best-coached fighter I’ve ever seen, because he’s brainless in there.
I’m not saying he’s not smart. I’m not saying he’s brainless as a whole. I’m saying when he’s in the fight, he’s brainless. Everything he does is off of instinct. He’s like a robot. Like, they’ve implemented these instincts in there almost like it’s code that they’ve written into his hard drive. “You go here. He goes here.” And he knows that every single time. He doesn’t actually have to know it. It’s just instinct. Boom. Boom. It happens that fast. He’s just very well trained, so he doesn’t have to do a bunch of thinking.
And then anything else that needs to be rewired, they do it in real time, and he just does it. He’s very special. It’s hard to do.
I explain fighting like a car. He’s in a car driving down a road. He never takes a turn that the GPS isn’t telling him to do. Every turn he takes is scripted — every single time.
We’re human and it’s in our instinct to react emotionally to certain things. Someone hits you with a nasty right hand, what is your instinct as a fighter? I’m gonna get that back. That’s not how Jon is. His code isn’t written like that. He never deviates, ever.
VERSATILITY
Jones is a threat everywhere in the Octagon. Name the skill and Jones’ opponents rank him with all-time greats. “It’s the way he puts it together,” says Smith. “He mixed martial arts better than anybody in the world.”
Sonnen: His kickboxing is a trick boxing. He is fooling you nonstop. Anderson Silva was a master of that. He’ll move this way and hit you that way, get you to look over here, and come over here. You’re looking at his hands and he kicks you in the stomach with his toes. Jon was on that same level. I don’t know that we’ve ever had a better striker than Jon. I can’t think of one. Alex Pereira is certainly a more decorated striker. But I can’t tell you that Alex Pereira has done more damage standing up to guys than Jon has done standing up with guys.
The best MMA wrestler ever is Georges St-Pierre. So Jon is not number one in that category. But he’s top three. You know, he fought Daniel Cormier, who was on two Olympic teams. He out-wrestled Daniel both times.
Jon had so many tools. Maybe you’ll fight a guy that’s got good elbows and good knees, or maybe the guy’s got good punches and good kicks. But that’s what it is. It’s never he’s got good punches, good elbows, good knees, good kicks, and good grappling. There’s no fighter created that can do all those things.
And this f—er has tools everywhere. Let’s say I would have got up off the bottom. I’m not any safer on my feet. I might’ve wanted to be back on the bottom. There was nowhere to go with him that was safe.
TOUGHNESS
So, he’s human after all. He had a lackadaisical training camp, he’s nursing a little injury, he just doesn’t have it tonight. There’s one more problem to deal with. He’s still tougher than you.
“Nobody is better than everyone else and tougher than everyone else,” says Sonnen. “Jon is both.”
Smith: The worst part about it is if he has to dogfight, he can also do that. Because sometimes he’ll just shut off his f—ing machine and say, “Go get it.” Gustafsson. Reyes. Thiago Santos. Like, there was moments in there where he had to dogfight. Daniel Cormier.
But he turns it on and turns it off. If the dogfight starts, sometimes he’ll engage in it just a little bit. And then he’ll turn it back off, and then just get right back to doing what he was doing.
Or with Gus, he just left it on. They’re like, “All right. This is what we have to do. Go get it. Figure it out.” It’s wild, because nobody in the world has both. GSP didn’t have both.
“I can’t think of anybody that has both.”