Conor McGregor Weigh In: Whats His Real Weight?

Well, let me tell ya about this fella, Conor McGregor. Folks keep talkin’ ‘bout his weight, ya know, like it’s the most important thing in the whole wide world. I seen big fellas, I seen skinny fellas, and let me tell you, size ain’t everything.

Now, they say this McGregor fella, he used to fight at 145 pounds. That’s like, what, a sack of potatoes? Then he went up to 155 pounds, that’s a bit more, like a good-sized piglet. But now, they sayin’ he’s walkin’ around at 180 pounds, even 190! That’s a whole grown hog! He’s like a stone, they say, all hard and heavy.

But what’s all this fuss about pounds, anyway? A good fighter is a good fighter, no matter how much he weighs. It’s about the fight in ya, the spirit, not just the pounds on the scale. My old man used to say, “It ain’t the size of the dog in the fight, it’s the size of the fight in the dog.” And he was a wise old fella, even if he did smell like manure half the time.

They talk about him fightin’ this fella, Poirier, and Cerrone. Weigh-ins this, weigh-ins that. One time he was 155 pounds, another time 156 pounds. What’s one pound gonna do, huh? It ain’t gonna make ya fly, it ain’t gonna make ya stronger. It’s just a number. Like when the butcher weighs the meat, he slaps it on the scale, gives ya a price. But the meat don’t care how much it weighs.

They say he’s got lots of money, this McGregor fella. Made it from fightin’ and other stuff. Good for him, I say. Money’s always useful, keeps the roof over yer head and food in yer belly.
But money don’t make ya a better fighter. It just means ya can eat better, maybe get a fancier pair of boots.
And all this talk about “octagon” this and “UFC” that. Sounds like a bunch of city-slicker nonsense to me. Back in my day, a fight was a fight. No fancy rules, no fancy cages. Just two fellas, dukin’ it out in the barn.

This McGregor, he’s been hurt, they say. That’s part of fightin’, ain’t it? You get knocked down, you get back up. Like when that ol’ mule kicked me in the shin, hurt like the dickens, but I got right back up and milked the cow. Life goes on, ya know?

So, this weigh-in thing, it’s just a show, far as I can see. A bunch of folks starin’ at a fella on a scale, makin’ a big deal out of nothin’. The real fight, that’s what matters. That’s where you see what a man’s made of, not on some fancy scale.

They say he’s comin’ back to fight again. Well, good for him. Hope he’s been eatin’ his vegetables and gettin’ his rest. And I hope he remembers, it ain’t the weight that counts, it’s the fight. It’s about heart, it’s about guts, it’s about not givin’ up, no matter how many pounds ya weigh or how hard that ol’ mule kicks.

So, let ‘em weigh him, let ‘em talk about his pounds. I’ll be waitin’ for the fight. That’s where the real story is, not on some scale.

And you know what else? All this talk about pounds… Makes me hungry. Think I’ll go fry up some bacon. Now that’s some good weight, right there on my plate.