The internet needs to quit the MMA nostalgia act

Every once in a while, a headline drops that makes you wonder if we’re stuck in a 2012 time loop. When I saw Matt Riddle claiming he pinned Jon Jones twice during their high school wrestling days, I nearly spat out my drink. It’s the kind of locker room tall tale that gains armor over the years, turning a random mat encounter into a full-blown rivalry of legend.

You have to admire the nerve. Riddle is the guy who spent his career being the ultimate human question mark while Jones has spent years turning the sport of MMA into a personal chaotic playground. Jones is busy posting photos with the Tate brothers, signaling he is comfortably in the 'edgelord' phase of his career. Meanwhile, Riddle is out there dreaming of freestyle matches against anyone who will lace up boots with him.

The fantasy fight that will never happen

Let's strip away the bravado. Can you imagine a world where the UFC brass lets Jon Jones risk his knees in a freestyle wrestling showcase? Not a chance. Jones has already officially re-entered retirement after the White House card fell apart. He is currently focused on brand building and high-profile friend groups, not chasing high-school scores on an open mat.

Riddle’s insistence on talking about those two wrestling wins is classic pro-wrestling promotional work. He knows exactly how to get people talking. If you can plant the seed of a "what if" scenario, the internet does the heavy lifting for you. It’s a genius way to stay relevant without actually having to negotiate a contract or pass a USADA test.

Why the ego battle is actually a booking failure

The real issue here isn't who took down who back in a sweaty high school gym. It is the persistent need for these guys to keep pretending that their past athletic lives matter to a modern audience that just wants a decent show. Jones has been a ghost of a champion, and Riddle is constantly looking for the next pivot point in a career that has lacked consistency.

If you really look at their trajectories, they have both become caricatures. When Jones documents his time with Tristan and Andrew Tate, he isn't trying to build a resume of wins; he is trying to stay in the news cycle. Riddle’s obsession with a amateur wrestling record is just the other side of that same coin. They are both trying to leverage their names to remain relevant in a market that moves at the speed of a Twitter refresh button.

Does it matter who won those wrestling matches in the early 2000s? Not even a little bit. Does it make for a great headline to distract us from the fact that we won't see either of them in a high-stakes professional environment anytime soon? Absolutely. It’s a low-effort way to generate engagement while Jones hangs out at the top of the food chain and Riddle continues to look for his next niche.

The worst part? We keep clicking on it. I’m including myself in that group, obviously. We want the drama, the petty history, and the ghost of the fighter who once was. But let’s be honest: both of these guys have moved on from being actual competitors in their prime. Now, the battle is purely about who can hold our attention longer by saying the most ridiculous thing on a podcast or social media.

It’s a bizarre dance that feels disconnected from the actual athletic reality. We have WrestleMania 41 sitting on the calendar in 9 days, and yet, here we are, talking about high school wrestling pins. It's a testament to how badly these guys need a spotlight, and how easily we are willing to hand it to them for a quick laugh or a screenshot.