He bounces to the ring like Tigger, swinging his long arms up and down to gee up the crowd, his blonde mop flopping against his head; the Joker, the imp, the happy clown. Once inside, he switches. Every fighter has a game face, but Paddy ‘The Baddy’ Pimblett’s is something to behold. It arrives like a whisper of bad news on a bright summer’s day: those big, soppy eyes frost over, the mouth pulls from an emoji grin into an ominous scar. He transmutates, before his opponent: the jester who was a killer all along.
Pimblett was supposed to be the UFC’s golden boy and golden goose, the first fighter since Conor ‘The Notorious’ McGregor to reach beyond the sport’s late-night fandom. After 30 years as an underground interest, MMA has been edging towards the mainstream – between 2015 and 2021 it was the fastest-growing sport in the world – but like any other, it needs an active, signature star capable of hooking in new crowds. Pimblett – talented, boyishly handsome with a trademark look; another gobby, gregarious maverick from across the Atlantic, this time from the city of The Beatles – fitted the bill perfectly. Dana White licked his lips and signed him as soon as he could; Paddy the Baddy debuted in 2021 and racked up three impressive KO victories on the trot. Without even becoming a champion yet, he was the sport’s most recognisable star, the name on everyone’s lips.
Rob Jones
Then, in Las Vegas in December 2022, something went wrong. Pimblett won his fourth fight against a battling New Yorker called Jared Gordon, only this time by decision. As his name was announced, Pimblett wafted his arms in triumph to orchestrate the crowd as normal, and those in Paddy The Baddy wigs obeyed with roars of delight. But beneath all that, for the first time, were boos. “That was a close one,” Joe Rogan, who moonlights as the face of UFC punditry, told him as he put a microphone into Pimblett’s face. “No it wasn’t, no it wasn’t!” Pimblett insisted. The boos grew louder.
The problem was that it was close. In fact, many felt Pimblett had lost. And yet he’d won unanimously on the judge’s scorecard. Did White’s promised one get an easy ride? In those seconds in Vegas, in what should have been his latest moment of triumph, something soured. Pimblett’s cockiness in victory turned him from a hero to a villain. On YouTube, a video called ‘How Paddy Lost His Fans In A Week’ racked up over a million views. On top of that, he was injured in the Gordon fight, an ankle tear that would lay him off for untold weeks. The darkness was about to descend on Paddy the Baddy once again – only this time, far away from the cameras.
NextGen gym, in central Liverpool, is the oldest mixed martial arts school in the city. Located behind a windowless brick facade with a small metal shutter door, it resembles an airport hanger. Puddles of shoes and clothes line a vast floor covered with practice mats on which people of all ages bounce around aiming kicks at each other’s shins.
Walking around outside in the August sunshine is Paddy Pimblett, NexGen’s most famous graduate, who has recently been honoured with a giant mural on the wall, trailed by a photographer, his wife Laura and their giant bulldog, Lenny. “You look like Zoolander lad!” someone shouts, because you don’t do a photoshoot on the streets of Liverpool without someone taking the piss, and you certainly don’t do it when you’re the most recognisable sportstar in the city outside Anfield or Goodison Park. “Nah, you look wicked though Paddy,” says someone else, and gets a flash of that jester grin in return.
