Backside on the canvas, back to the cage, leg bent in a way legs aren’t supposed to be bent and Conor McGregor still wouldn’t stop bleating and badgering.
He was screaming for his latest loss to be officially declared a doctor’s stoppage, not a TKO at the hands of Dustin Poirier, a distinction without much of a difference.
He was screaming at Poirier that next time — unlike the last two times — he’d hand him some hellacious whipping, which given the circumstances was comically sad.
He was screaming about Poirier’s wife because, well, McGregor learned long ago when people might be on the verge of tuning him out, just get meaner and cruder and more and more ridiculous.