The Paradox: Explaining Yoel Romero

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What is Process?

What exactly is a process? In regards to fighting, you could call a process the way the specific pugilist approaches the actual fight. If you were to be general, it’s as simple as categorizing them in opposing binaries: Offensive or defensive, technician vs rugged, infighter vs outfighter, etc. To distinguish fighters under some categorical umbrella term, you might even apply different archetypes to them.

A fighter who likes to limit his or her opponent’s space and initiative whilst coming forward is referred to a pressure fighter; a relentless whirlwind of violence that does not relent even if it means taking one until their opponent relents is a swarmer; someone who employs outside, lateral movements and misdirections is an outfighter. The list goes on and gets more specific (and sometimes broader) by combat sport-determined disciplines. We’re not even accounting for other intangibles yet, such as durability, strategy, conditioning, physicality, comfort - factors that can decide what fighter does what and why.

In MMA, there is an inordinate amount of untapped depth and consistently changing dynamics to fighter processes. Anyone can understand that, by mixing the martial arts, the sheer scope of what you can do offers a far wider scope than other combat sports. This isn’t to say that the best mixed martial artist is going to be better in their sport than, say, the best wrestlers or the best boxers are in theirs (a wider scope inherently means that isn’t necessarily possible) — however, they do get more options to be (at least) good in more areas. Though the best mixed martial artists may not be as refined in a set area as the world’s greatest ground or standup specialists, they are also in a sport where being a refined specialist isn’t necessarily the point. In layman’s terms, there’s a variety of ways to be “good”.

I’m simplifying what is a much more complicated topic, so let’s think of it this way: you have to know a certain amount to be a successful fighter at MMA. Even if you’re as much of a specialist as possible, such as a Demian Maia, you’re going to have to know how to handle yourself on the feet, and then adapt accordingly to your opponent - which, again, is complicated by the variety of MMA. This is where that wider scope comes back, because there has been multiple different “peaks” as far as skill in this sport. Maybe they become a Demetrious Johnson, who excels in the actual mixture or transitioning between the phases in MMA. Maybe they become a Khabib Nurmagomedov, an unmatched ground technician whose sheer prowess on the mat is enough to force others to reconsider engagements. Maybe they keep the fight in a singular phase that keeps the fight under control as needed, like a Jose Aldo.

Going back to the main idea here, you can find a plethora of processes across the sport itself, inspired by the fighter’s background, temperament, conditioning, and so on. The sheer amount you can do in MMA offers an enormous amount of answers to a significant number of questions. Anyone and everyone can be different than another and have potential different stylistic matchups across the board - this makes it incredibly difficult to be a top fighter in MMA and only makes it more impressive when someone actually remains one. To do so, they need to have a working process for how they fight.

For people like me, theory-crafting what processes are is incredibly fascinating, even if it is intricate. Truth be told, under no circumstances should you consider your explanation on a process absolute — but you can come to some solid conclusions based upon data and inferences that may be sufficient.

This ultimately brings us to the subject of today, Yoel Romero, and, subsequently, the question of the day: What is Romero’s process?

Starting Points

Let’s start with the facts: Yoel Romero comes from an accredited freestyle wrestling background, including Olympic accolades. He is unquestionably one of the most athletically gifted competitors the sport has ever seen even at his current age of 45. His highlight reel consists of some of the most unbelievable physical damage and finishes that you can find. And, in his entire time as an elite competitor in MMA, there has never been a bout where he was dominated - beaten, yes, but all of them were not easy wins.

We then segue to what a majority of people would say about Romero: That he is a fighter built upon taking the most advantage of a single moment. Romero fights at a glacial pace, taking in reads, and then, creates his opportunity and usually hurts or finishes the opponent. It isn’t a style built around winning rounds, but around that one moment for maximum reward.

And this is definitely the right way to think about the Cuban, but it also leads to some lingering questions, namely the big two:

1 Why does Romero fight this way?

2 How exactly does he consistently make it work against a wide variety of opponents?

This is where the entirety of this analysis leans more towards being hypothetical based upon the information that we do and don’t have. There’s another factor that makes this difficult that ties directly into the second question, but we can return to that later. We have to start at the first question - and that means delving into Romero’s wrestling career as a comparative.

Many have been surprised that someone with an Olympic silver medal hasn’t become one of MMA’s premier wrestling terrors. But, there is a simpler explanation to all of this once you dig deeper.

Romero’s wrestling game was attritional and methodical. Instead of shooting from open-space, he would force tie-ups for ankle picks or throws through a snapdown-oriented game; he was always engaging - whether it be in locks, handfighting, or something else - in ways to keep them busy with a steady output to wear them down the stretch. His input was constant behind the level changes - and the output was that the opponent never got his initiative easy.

For more information on how a snapdown-oriented wrestling game works, I recommend this work by my colleague, Edward Gallo.

For those reading this, try to think how Romero engages and then think about what MMA fighters would have to do to get that game going and see if you can recognize the problems right away.

There are two: One, despite MMA being such an initiative-oriented sport, wrestling in MMA has a few other phases and intangibles to consider. Your opponent can stay away and not wrestle; they don’t have to engage you in some proximity at all and can actively threaten wrestling entries with their striking at a distance. And two, wrestling defenses in MMA are often built upon separations, but proximity doesn’t necessarily mean the wrestler has the fight in their world yet. What happens if the opponent likes to strike in tie-ups or the clinch fighters or even bait you into transitional offense? Sure, wrestling can wear any fighter down in MMA, but you’d have to add more to your inside and distance-collapsing games to make it work against all possible opposition. Snapdown games love collisions and setups from up-close? There’s more to it now - and you then have to factor what happens when you get tired first.

There’s some irony here though: Romero ended up not fighting like this at all. Instead of constant, active setups, Romero plays a passive, waiting game predicated for an incredibly specific moment. In MMA, passivity comes with a cost at the highest levels, yet Romero made it work in some regard - his opponents don’t come out outscathed or they struggle to fully take over the fight completely.

One point of intrigue is that Romero’s game does closely resemble conventional tenets of Russian or Cuban wrestling. Typically, these countries’ best wrestlers will invest in reading and building towards one big move that opens up a major lead. Once that lead is established, the opponent will attempt to force the action to catch up and, subsequently, give more openings and opportunities to capitalize upon. Although Romero’s wrestling career certainly didn’t reflect this ideology, his MMA game seems to hint that he was inspired in some way. Personally, I’d like to think that this is as good a start as any for answering “why” Romero fights the way he did.

Admittedly, competing in MMA in your thirties and forties also inevitably means you are not going to be able to push the same pace, and there are some immediate dangers with Romero’s approach. Again, MMA is so driven by effective activity. Usually, this translates to fighters leading - those who press the initiative in MMA, at the moment, are the ones who usually succeed. If you’re going to play the moments-versus-minutes game, then those moments need to be as significant as possible. The fighter in question needs to be aware of their own attributes, study and allocate to what their opponent offers, and be able to manage time in some manner.

Yoel Romero did have an enormous crutch going for him: being arguably the most athletically gifted fighter to compete in the sport’s history. But, just being a special athlete sometimes isn’t enough to reach the top of the food chain. Eventually, you were going to run into someone who can outsmart, outmanuever, and outfight you - having “game over” powers doesn’t matter there.

However, Romero manages to make it work, at a passive pace no less, through maximizing his physical gifts with a knack for timing and exploitation. To do so requires attentiveness to what is happening in a fight and the patience to know when to throw something and how to throw it. In summary, defining Romero means understanding he is an exploitive opportunist playing a gambit – that he is going to finish you for making the smallest of errors. To say Romero is explosive or random for the sake of it would be doing him a disservice; no one fights like Romero at the top level of MMA without having an implicit understanding of strategy or tactics, freak athlete or no.

AUTHOR’S NOTE: I suppose this is a good time to explain how we understand strategy versus tactics. Strategy looks at the big picture of a fight. It asks about long-terms goals and ideas preemptively. Tactics are, by comparison, more in-line with moment-to-moment responses and adjustments. They ask what is the fighter doing specifically that doesn’t go against strategic tasks whilst still responding according to the opponent. Keep this mind as this is an important distinction for the rest of this piece.

On the other hand, there are so many things about Romero that are too inconsistent to be ignored.

For one thing, Romero gives too many different looks to have a defined phase that fits his game - only that he seemed to be able to compete there. Yet, at the same time, you would see completely baffling technical errors or moment-to-moment decision making that made you wonder if he actually knew what he was doing. How, for instance, could someone with Romero’s experience and physicality find himself the victim of takedowns in open-space or against the fence as much as he is? Why does someone with his intelligence for picking moments and reads suddenly concede so much distance to get pinned in a corner and have to take some punishment? How does someone who develops a fairly effective cross-arm guard sometimes forego his defense completely?

Let’s approach this from another angle: What about the people Romero fights? What kinds of looks does he give them? As much time as we can spend looking at the man himself, sometimes matchups can yield all the information you might need. And I’m not sure there is a fight that better exemplifies Romero’s eccentricity as a fighter better than his meeting with the incumbent champion, Israel Adesanya.

I propose we use it as a case study!

The Worst High-Level MMA Fight Ever

How does a fight between two men, known for awe-inspiring moments and an attention to detail, end up being a terrible contest? Typically, it’s as simple as the two fighters’ styles not mixing well or one fighter attempting something that completely throws off the other. Here, it was both.

Adesanya’s game, in a vacuum, ultimately lies within his ability to build. Unlike his teammate Volkanovski, whose game is built upon single successes working together towards systemic control, Adesanya will rely more upon individual moment-to-moment tactics. His main foundation is his feints to draw responses from an opponent. If they’re being reactive, he can allocate his chosen tools around what they will do as he assesses the risks involved. Like any calculating sniper, Adesanya wants the easiest, most exploitable openings to the maximum rewards. Too much passivity will get you eaten up at distance, whereas too much aggression will likely end up in you being taken out. Still, this does mean Adesanya himself can fight reactively, stuck trying to find responses to opponent-specific tactics, and he can be content to stay in his comfort zone. Beating Adesanya isn’t easy, namely because you have to take away his initiative, force pocket interactions and have answers for his kicks - but you can make him uncomfortable. Letting Adesanya feint freely would be a death sentence if you can’t have some answers going.

Romero’s solution to Adesanya was a variation of the above, but with a twist. He would let him feint, but they wouldn’t be effective. Why? Because Romero chose to not react to his feints ever. On one hand, this is completely insane and no rational fighter should ever consider it. On the other hand, this strategy actually worked.

As I pointed out earlier, Adesanya’s successes are founded upon the potency of his feints. If no reactions are generated, how much data is actually being gathered? Nonetheless, non-reactions principally would not work on their own if you did not have other measures in place. After all, if you’re just going to do nothing in response to someone else’s actions, that someone else is going to think: ‘Well, then, in theory, I could do anything.’ Unfortunately for Adesanya, Romero is not a fighter who will let an opponent do whatever he wants, not if he has anything to say about it.

Romero would situate himself at a distance, away from Adesanya. To give arguably the best sniper in MMA history the range he wants to operate in would seem the equivalent of offering up your head on a platter, but Romero’s line of thinking was different. Essentially, Romero could, behind his guard, see Adesanya’s movements and respond accordingly, typically a step taken for every step Adesanya took to prevent any concession of a dominant angle. Because the distance was also far away, it became obvious that Adesanya’s main attack was going to be kicks. Romero’s two guards would allow him to keep one forearm raised to parry any high kicks and a lower forearm and a slight step back to prevent any kicks to the body.

Although Adesanya figured out some ways around it later with a concentrated leg attack, Romero was fine turning his knee out to check or pulling his leg back.

If it isn’t clear, these specific methods helped inform Romero of Adesanya’s tools as the latter had to attack without his feints enforcing responses first. As a result, it became easier to predict or narrow down Adesanya’s route of attacks and shut down his offense with minor energy expenditures. This is further enforced by Romero’s own bizarre series of feints causing Adesanya to consider when to attack or defend more carefully. Consequently, Romero would use that opportunity to punt Adesanya with kicks or pressure of his own at distance.

That is to say: whatever Adesanya was doing was irrelevant outside of an actual, committed attack. And whenever Adesanya did commit to a telegraphed, throwaway or blitzing entry, this was the trigger for Romero to teach him that close range wasn’t necessarily an easier range.

To quote a fellow analyst, “[T]he job of a fighter should be taking an opponent out of their comfort zone and forcing them into one of their own. The more a fighter can mitigate the interplay between [their opponent’s threats and success], the less effective their opponent becomes and the more difficult it becomes for adaptation to be possible.” In other words, the most effective fighters are those who can recognize what their opponent does and attempts to prevent them from controlling the direction of the fight. Romero’s entire gameplan really should never have worked, and yet, in the hands a fighter who employed such a minimalist strategy to counteract the scouted tendencies of his opponent, it succeeded in allowing him to win the early portions of the fight. I think, from that lens, Romero does deserve credit at being a more learned pugilist than you would expect even if you can still criticize both men for demonstrating their issues on the lead.

I’m talking about this fight first for a reason though: Commonly, I have seen many people propose Romero is a fighter who strictly adjusts around creating his single moment - that the idea of an initial fight strategy isn’t exactly something he does. Yet, this fight made me take a step back and realize: Yes, he absolutely does.

And yet there’s still the little things and looks that don’t add up:

-Bouncing and being light on his feet in the early stages of his fight with Jacare Souza or most of his war with Paulo Costa.

-Electing to let Chris Weidman pressure him, where the American was at his strongest.

-Attempting to start fast versus Robert Whittaker in their first fight with his wrestling as the main focus if he preferred to start slower and pick moments.

These are some of many examples you could point to as far as Romero’s inconsistency. But then, I realized something: Isn’t being inconsistent itself a consistency? In other words, instead of focusing so much upon the fact that he is inconsistent, it’s better to ask why he’s inconsistent and point to specific, underlying reasons. Once I did that, I gradually started to consider Yoel Romero in different terms.

The Pragmatic Polymorph

There’s already been a piece written about the Soldier of God’s technical development and the writer asserts the most agreeable facets about Romero, “One, Romero is smart and adaptive strategically […] Two, Romero is smart and adaptive tactically […] Three, despite [technical] improvement[s], Romero still [can rely] upon his greatest competitive edge: an incredible margin of error due to athleticism that hasn’t otherwise been seen in the UFC.” It’s impossible for me to disagree with any of this, but I do want to add something: I don’t believe Romero is – nor is likely to ever be – from a mechanics standpoint, a complete fighter. In other words, Romero’s specific technical abilities leave much to be desired; however, that isn’t to say he is technically hopeless. He’s far from that. No one gives Robert Whittaker and Israel Adesanya that kind of trouble, athletic crutch or no, without having some degree of skill and the knowledge to implement that skill respectively. Still, Romero’s ringcraft and defensive choices aren’t typical. The best way I would describe it is that it’s as though he isn’t too concerned with certain ancillary skills.

To be more specific, I think Romero prioritizes singular ideas of a fight’s dynamic. If you’re a minimalist who wants the fight to be at a slower pace so you can set up one big, decisive moment, then the less things you have to worry about, the better, right? For Romero, he seems to extend this to basic principles: E.g. Why expend energy with any head movement when I can just cover up? Why care which direction or place I am in the cage when I can just wait until they get close, then I can block or hit them?

You see why this is strange? Okay, I believe it’s as plausible a reason as any. Romero is capable of demonstrating dedicated pressure and cagecraft, has fundamental ideas of putting combinations together, is willing to mix tactics up, affects opponents constantly with level change feints – the list goes on. Yet he chooses (or possibly hasn’t learned) to forego certain defensive tools so frequently that it makes me wonder if Romero is simply about pragmatism. In other words, does Romero decide to do things because, in his mind, it means he has to worry about less in exchange for what he considers important?

I ascertain this is the most pressing question because Romero’s strategic and tactical actions tend to be in relation to who his opponent is. How he chooses to fight is based around specific traits he scouts from his opponents. He then allocates as needed to find his big moment.

That is, Yoel Romero is a polymorph: Someone who will change into a different style as needed.

Jacare Souza is a pressure fighter, but he’s plodding by nature. Romero immediately starts by fighting a mobile outfighting game to draw Jacare into a kill shot – the spinning back fist. When Jacare starts having success with kicks, Romero switches to between orthodox and southpaw jabs to keep him at bay.

Chris Weidman wants to cut his opponents off to create takedowns against the cage. Romero starts the fight flatfooted and chooses to not concede any space. He eventually keys in on Weidman’s level change can be drawn out through feints, so he feints a level change of his own to nearly decapitate Weidman with a flying knee.

Luke Rockhold likes to attack with kicks at a distance? Stand in the closed stance matchup, check the kicks, etc. He then notices Rockhold’s lackluster backwards movement from the bladed stance in boxing exchanges, so he begins jabbing with him and pressuring heavily. Eventually, his read that Rockhold will back up linearly allows him to set up a kill shot.

Paulo Costa wants to put on relentless, attritional pressure, but he is incredibly hittable coming in. Romero decides to start fast on the move and look for reactive takedowns or counters to try and put Costa down early. Costa proves too durable to back off, so Romero takes the power off his shots and begins working combinations of his lead hand to fight the most consistent volume fight of his career.

The above examples (along with the Adesanya one above) confirm that Romero is strategically and tactically minded. They also all have extremely different styles and adjustments according to the situation. This led me to a conclusion: Romero fights according to his opponents specifically. What he does is pick out a particular strength and weakness and caters his game. For Adesanya, it was feints and that he needed them to build; Weidman, it was the takedowns and how he struggled when he couldn’t back the other fighter up – and so on. Romero is also a natural adjuster and is instinctually driven to look for patterns to exploit. That is to say, Romero almost seems to be the antithesis to a typical MMA metagame fighter in that he identifies what his opponents really are at their core and fights them in a way he sees fit.

Almost inexplicably, Romero wants to see everything the opponent can offer and then create a moment of perfect destruction. It’s no wonder he tries to foul or break the rules. They want to hit him? Let them have their fun. He’ll hit them harder, faster, and better than they ever could him. You can do things? Sure, but it’s less than you think. Yoel Romero is a master of bullshitting you into thinking it’s all fine and then ending it all then and there if you aren’t paying attention.

We have the address his epic duology with Robert Whittaker: The lone complete loss of Romero’s elite run remains to the former champion, whose consistent mixups and front kick body attack eventually wore the Cuban down. If anything, Romero’s lack of depth on the feet was what led to his defeat.

Because Whittaker likes to blitz in and enjoys longer exchanges, Romero was willing to collide with Whittaker if it meant he could get tie-ups, whereupon he could enforce his takedown game. Furthermore, he attacked Whittaker’s legs to try and cut down mobility at a distance. The problems settled in when the Australian started proved competent enough to shut down the Olympian’s wrestling and was superior at distance. Because of Romero’s lack of open-space takedowns and Whittaker’s superior workrate, the former was gassed by the end of the fourth. To his credit, he showed that he could adjust by attempting to counter Whittaker coming in, but too little, too late.

I’d like to think this loss was a good learning experience for Romero – that he needed to have greater technical nuance in his game in order to compete with Whittaker. In the rematch, he strategically prepared by fighting in the closed stance matchup and forcing Whittaker to get closer to hit him with various guards. Sure, Whittaker could jab him up still, but he was still having to step in almost everytime.

When Whittaker looked for stand his ground and plant, Romero adapted by throwing back in combination. Midway through, Romero realized he could force Whittaker to impulsively up his workrate when put on the backfoot. This gave Romero more chances to attack when Whittaker had to reset his feet or when longer exchanges were risked.

Their all-time classic best encapsulates the strongest aspects of Romero’s pragmatism and versatility while illustrating his many faults (gas tank, waiting, letting an opponent work, etc.) and yet Robert Whittaker still barely survived on multiple occasions while nearly being dead on his feet.

If it isn’t obvious that this wouldn’t work for just about anyone else, then I’m not sure what else to tell you. Yoel Romero goes against most of MMA’s rules and what we understand. I ultimately don’t know if any of what I’ve just argued makes sense and is even right, but it did teach me that applying the same conventional logic to him as we would anyone else invalidates how broad the entire sport of Mixed Martial Arts is. At some point, we have to expect exceptions. And there are plenty of things that we can learn from said exceptions. There are still many points here that my theory doesn’t explain - such as Romero’s choices against Phil Davis or his occasional mean streak - though I think this is about the best guesswork I can make. And for a fighter as good and flawed as Yoel Romero, sometimes being an enigma is exactly what makes him worth the watch.