Magazine Archives: Dream Match: John Cena vs. Conor McGregor

Originally appeared in issue 1 of Fightful Magazine. Purchase back issues at FightfulMag.com. 

Conor “The Notorious” McGregoris 5’9” and weighs in at 155 pounds. Former Ultimate Fighting Champion featherweight and lightweight champion. Defeated José Aldo at UFC 194 for the UFC Featherweight Championship in a knockout, which is the fastest victory in UFC title fight history. At UFC 205, McGregor defeated Eddie Alvarezfor the UFC Lightweight Championship to become the first fighter in UFC history to hold two weight divisions at the same time. Ranked #15 in the UFC men’s pound-for-pound rankings and is #6 in the UFC lightweight rankings. Biggest strength: power, timing and footwork. Biggest weakness: stamina, takedown defence.

John “The Prototype” Cena is 6’1” and weighs in at 251 pounds. Five-time United States Champion, four-time world tag team champion, and a 16-time world champion. Made his first appearance on World Wrestling Federation (WWF) in 2000. Tied with Ric Flair for the most world championship reigns in WWE history. Holds the record for most WWE Championships with 13. Two-time Royal Rumble match winner and one-time Money in the Bank winner. Headlined several WWE pay-per-view events, including WrestleMania five times. Biggest strength: practical and physical dexterity. Biggest weakness: suplexes.

Conor McGregor sat on top of the world and at rock bottom of his MMA career at the same time.

He was one of the most famous men in all of sports, and nobody in his chosen field would give him the time of day. He was a megastar internationally, a pariah in his profession.

Following his loss to Dustin Poirierin a comeback bout, McGregor threw himself back into training to reclaim the title as the best fighter in the world. Some dared to claim that McGregor never held that title, but they’d never say so to his face.

Six straight victories and then a megafight. Conor McGregor vs. an un-retiring Khabib Nurmagedov.A $10 million payday.

In the fourth round, with McGregor ahead on points, Nurmagedov knocked McGregor down with a head kick. McGregor was dazed but protecting himself. As Nurmagedov went to mount, the referee called off the fight. He’d seen enough. McGregor had lost.

Almost every fan and analyst now agree; it was an early stoppage and an egregious one at that.

But few seem to agree that that error by the referee excused McGregor’s next move.

When he realized that he had lost, McGregor leapt to his feet and threw a vicious left cross that collapsed the ref’s jaw.

After that, chaos.

McGregor’s crew, Nurmagedov’s team, UFC security and attendees in the audience started to quarrel. It was a brawl that could rival the infamous “Malice in the Palace,” the wild scene from a 2005 NBA game between the Detroit Pistons and the Indiana Pacers, where members of both teams fought each other and the fans, in the stands and on the court.

Once the dust had settled, 14 people were hospitalized.

And McGregor took the blame for all of it. Remaining defiant, he refused to accept responsibility for the near-riot that his actions caused. He was barred from ever fighting for the UFC again.Dana White cast him out and publicly announced that he’d never speak to McGregor again.

McGregor held an impromptu press conference in front of the UFC offices, declaring he was breaking from UFC and not the other way around. He threw in some more color, the way only McGregor can, with some choice insults for White, and by the time the building’s security broke up the festivities, McGregor had the press in attendance eating out of the palm of his hand.

______

Vince McMahon watched that press conference on the television in his office. He turned to his son-in-law, now known forever by his in-ring nom de plume, Hunter Hearst Helmsley, or Triple H for short. “You thinking what I’m thinking?”

Hemsley had been trying to get McGregor to come in and do something with WWE for years, but he had always refused. Now, with McGregor and Dana on the outs, he thought there might finally be a chance.

“I’ll call Conor.”

_______

“I want Cena,” McGregor said into the phone.

Hemsley was surprised. “…John Cena?”

“Look, you want me to come in and have a match, then my answer is yes. Vince is a big bollocks badass, and I have nothing but respect. But if I come in, I want John Cena.” McGregor wanted to make a statement by taking out the biggest star in recent WWE memory.

“I’ll see what I can do. But no promises.”

____________

John Cena woke to a knock on the door of his trailer.

“Five minutes, Mr. Cena,” came the voice of the PA outside.

Cena sat up, dusted the cobwebs from his head, and swung his powerful legs over the side of the bed. He was still in a halfway dream-like state, only maybe 80%  sure of exactly where he was or whether this was all part of the dream.

Another knock. “Mr. Cena?”

“Just had a little cat nap. I’ll be right there. Thank you, Dennis,” he responded, more curtly than perhaps he meant to.

“I’ll let them know you’ll be late,” said Dennis, walking off.

Cena muttered something to himself, got up and walked over to the coffee table. He picked up the script that lay there.

Dead of Night, it said on the cover. A vampire flick. Mid-budget. To be released in September.

Cena had tired of the action movie stereotype and the comedy stuff, so he tried to go legit. He took the lead role in an indie drama about a retired military man’s falling out with his progressive young daughter. Critics panned Bleeding Heart, with Cena’s performance taking the lion’s share of the ire. From there, it was right back to sophomoric comedies and action-sci-fi. The allure of Hollywood was gone.

There was no doubt about it: Cena missed the WWE. He missed home. This was his wrap day, and he was prepared to take a nice long break from Hollywood.

He was almost out the door of his trailer when his phone rang. He picked it up and looked at the name. It was just one letter.

H

_______

“I’ll do it,” Cena replied immediately.

“You will?” Hunter couldn’t believe his ears.

“But it’s gotta be at Mania.”

“You, vs Conor McGregor?” Hunter chuckled. “Yeah, I think that can be arranged.”

__________

The match announcement was a closely guarded secret. Cena was advertised to be appearing on Monday Night Raw, but McGregor was supposed to be a complete surprise. He arrived late, with his usual entourage, despite that they were banned from the building. The arena’s parent company mentioned were too big of an insurance risk after the riot from months before. So right off the bat, McGregor was in a foul mood.

He was given a script, a sort of guideline for how the segment with Cena was supposed to proceed, but witnesses backstage say they saw him toss it in the garbage on his way to his entrance.

The hook for the match announcement was that Cena wanted to go out with one last blockbuster marquee main event match, something that would get the entire sports and entertainment worlds buzzing.

Vince McMahon himself, in the ring with Cena, said, “You know, John, I think I might have just the right man for the job.” And then in his trademark gravelly baritone, “CONORRRR MCGRRREGORRR.”

The crowd went crazy. McGregor walked briskly but coolly down the ramp, his left hand in the pocket of his impeccably tailored trousers.

Cena wore jorts.

When McGregor got to the ring, he was supposed to have a spirited back and forth “promo battle” with Cena, “keeping it PG-13,” as a PR executive told him, but that wasn’t in McGregor’s plans.

Cena, ever affable, extended a hand to McGregor. McGregor smiled, and his left hand darted out from his pants pocket and clocked Cena across the cheek with a vicious left hook. That was not, as they say, in the script.

Cena collapsed, knocked out cold. McGregor stood aside Cena’s unconscious body and revealed, in his left fist, a roll of quarters. McGregor cracked it open and let the coins fall all over Cena’s prone frame.

“Everybody gets rich when they fight me, John Boy.” McGregor quipped. “Consider this a down payment.”

And with a nod to McMahon, who was somewhere between furious and proud, McGregor walked back up the ramp as quickly as he came.

___________

Dana White was on the phone to McMahon before Raw was off the air that night, and many more times late into the night, leaving voicemail after voicemail, seething with rage about not being consulted, and straight-up cut out of the deal.

It was Hemsley who returned his calls, telling White what McGregor had told him: “I don’t care what you people pay me, just as long as Dana doesn’t one thin dime of it.”

White, who knew what kind of money this could bring in, threatened to sue, but it was all bluster; he had very publicly cut ties with McGregor, and McGregor was free to negotiate his own deals on his behalf.

Dana said he’d never let any more of his guys work with WWE, to which Hunter replied, “Dana, with all due respect, after this McGregor match, any of your guys are gonna seem like a huge step-down.” And with that, he hung up.

___________

Cena’s jaw wasn’t broken by McGregor’s loaded left hook, but it was sore for several days afterward. He threw himself into training for the bout, working with Shane McMahon’s MMA instructors, learning to counter a professional fighter’s strikes, how to apply a variety of submission holds, and generally how to hold his own in a real fight, not one of the heavily choreographed affairs from his action movies.

He told a trainer that this was one last time to really go legit—to prove that he had what he takes, no smoke and mirrors, no camera tricks, just a man and his wits and his two fists. It was the reason why he accepted the match to begin with.

There would be more appearances on Raw, live interviews via satellite for him and McGregor, but by this time in Cena’s life, the salesmanship—whether of matches or movies—was all by rote. He could do it in his sleep.

Sleep was something that didn’t interest McGregor all that much. He was out on the town almost every night, drinking and carousing with friends and a bevy of beauties. It was a pro wrestling match, not a UFC bout, so he didn’t have to worry about making weight or training to counter his opponent’s best moves.

“This is John Cena we’re talking about here. He doesn’t have any best moves.”

McGregor lived on the edge of overconfidence, but now his arrogance might actually prove his downfall.

For the match itself, the main event of WrestleMania, attended by almost 100,000 fans screaming for McGregor’s head, Cena decided to forgo his trademark jean shorts and tennis shoes, instead opting for MMA tights and gloves. It was a sign that Cena was taking this match more seriously than his previous Mania bouts.

McGregor, by contrast, came to the ring in a lavish satin robe, emblazoned with the phrase “The Greatest Of All Time” on the back, as well as the silhouette of a goat. He pranced around, waving at a crowd that was openly hostile to him.

During the ring introductions, Cena’s eyes were laser-focused on his opponent, who seemed content to scan the stadium, taking in the pomp and circumstance of it all.

“If this is how Vince does business all the time,” he thought, “I could get used to it.”

DING DING

Cena came out of his corner with his hands high, in a defensive stance, but knowing he had to close the distance between him and McGregor. The welterweight was small, but he packed a wallop, with hands faster than any wrestler he had ever fought before. But if Cena could get a hold of him, his strength and size advantage just might win out.

However, that proved to be more difficult than he thought.

McGregor had his hands behind his back. He was dancing, backpedaling around the ring, toying with Cena. At one point, he even broke out into a jaunty skip. Exasperated, Cena dropped his guard with a “come on, man” gesture. McGregor darted in and popped Cena with a quick jab on the point of the chin, then scampered back to doing laps around the ring. The punch was little more than a tap, but it infuriated Cena. He rushed at his opponent, looking to perform a double leg takedown, but McGregor deftly sidestepped the much bigger man and tagged him in the back of the head on his way into the corner, Cena stumbling and falling face-first into the bottom turnbuckle. The crowd laughed.

The WWE Universe was laughing at Cena’s expense.

McGregor sauntered over to the opposite corner, hopped up and sat on the top turnbuckle, talking all kinds of trash. “D’ya need me to get you your walker, old man?” is one of the only sentences uttered that could be considered fit to print here.

Cena got up, literally dusted himself off—ever the showman—and walked to the center of the ring. He adopted a boxer’s stance and beckoned McGregor to come to him.

“Bring it.”

McGregor threw back his head in a dramatic laugh, shook his head to himself, and hopped down off the turnbuckle. He put his hands behind his back, sidled up to Cena and said, “Gimme yer best shot, John Boy.”

He wanted Cena to throw a punch so he could counter. Cena knew that’s what McGregor wanted, so he faked with his left, then shot in and got a waist lock on his opponent. He went behind and rippled off a release German Suplex that threw McGregor three-quarters of the way across the ring.

McGregor landed hard, high on his left shoulder and the impact knocked the wind out of him. He frantically tried to gain his bearings, backing himself up into the corner and looking to defend himself from a Cena onslaught.

But Cena wasn’t attacking. He was sitting on the top turnbuckle in the far corner, imitating McGregor’s perch from earlier in the match.

The match had effectively reset itself.

Except.

When McGregor pulled himself up in the corner, he winced. Something was wrong with his shoulder. Was it separated? Maybe. Perhaps a partially torn rotator cuff. McGregor wasn’t sure, but he knew one thing. It fookin’ hurt.

Cena spotted the difference in McGregor’s stance. He always carried his left a little low but now was barely raising his hand above his waist. The famed southpaw was no longer working with a full compass. Cena knew he was older and slower now, but he thought he might be able to beat a man with one arm effectively tied behind his back.

But McGregor still had three other limbs, and he knew how to use them. Cena got careless, overconfident, and when he got too close, McGregor lashed out with a calf kick, connecting with the back of Cena’s left knee and immediately sending terrible pain shooting up his leg. Big Match John staggered, and McGregor hit him square in the nose with a flying knee. Cena stumbled back, on the verge of unconsciousness, and unable to put any weight on his right leg. He toppled through the middle ropes and out onto the floor.

Cena lay there, dazed. His nose was broken, there was blood in his eyes, and his leg was messed up. Cena looked up to see the blurry figure that was the referee looking down at him from inside the ring. He couldn’t quite make out how many fingers he was holding up, but he distinctly heard the word: “SEVEN!”

Seven? Had he been unconscious for seven seconds? Even longer, depending on how long the ref had taken to move McGregor back and start his count. It didn’t seem possible.

“EIGHT!”

Cena rolled over and pushed himself up onto his hands and knees. He couldn’t see. Cena knew his leg was damaged in a way he had never felt before. He took a deep breath.

“NINE!”

Cena thrust himself up, putting all of his weight on his good leg, and dove in under the bottom rope, just before the ref could count him out.

In a flash, McGregor was on top of Cena in a full mount, raining hammer fist blows, punches and elbows. McGregor was incensed, a man possessed. A man with only one good arm.

Cena was on his back, defending his head with both hands. Somehow, even with the onslaught, things were becoming less hazy. He recognized that the blows were only coming from his left, McGregor’s right.

McGregor was practically carrying his left arm in an invisible sling, hanging useless. While continuing to shield himself from McGregor’s blows with his left arm, Cena struck out with his right fist, catching McGregor in the ribs. McGregor doubled over slightly, and Cena punched him hard in the upper left triceps. McGregor yelped. Then higher on the arm. In the shoulder joint. Cena hit him again and again, McGregor crying out in pain with each strike.

Cena grabbed McGregor’s elbow and shoved upwards, sitting up and wrenching the arm. Lightning-quick, he was on top of McGregor with the smaller man facedown. Cena was seated on top of him, with both hands gripping McGregor’s left arm, in a kind of accidental Fujiwara Armbar.

Cena pulled up hard. McGregor fought with all his might, but Cena was just too strong. Before the shoulder was torn entirely out of its socket, McGregor tapped.

________________

John Cena and Conor McGregor are forever inextricably linked by that night, that match.

Cena toyed with the idea of retiring that night, but it was undeniable that his match with McGregor had reignited a fire within him that had laid dormant for far too long. Cena defeated Roman Reigns to become Universal Champion and break the great Ric Flair’s timeless record, becoming the first-ever 17-time Heavyweight Champion. And as he approached 50 years old, with his body still in peak condition, his mind strong and his heart willing, he thought, why stop now?

McGregor signed a multi-year deal with WWE later that month, immediately becoming one of the most beloved bad guys if such a thing is possible. McGregor remarked to friends that if he had won the match against Cena easily, as was expected, he probably wouldn’t have joined the company. But it gave him another chance to prove himself and to prove others wrong. There was nothing that McGregor liked more than proving others wrong, except maybe defeating Cena in the rematch.