In the gritty world of mixed martial arts, where alliances can shift like sand in the octagon, Brendan Allen dropped a bombshell that left fans and fighters buzzing: he flat-out refused to train with Reinier de Ridder, and it's not just about personal beef—it's about respect, loyalty, and the unwritten rules of the gym. But here's where it gets controversial—Allen isn't blaming the Dutch fighter directly; instead, he's calling out the coaches for a major oversight that cut deep. Stick around, because this story peels back layers on how rivalries brew in the UFC middleweight division, and it might just challenge what you think about friendship in combat sports.
As the UFC Vancouver main event loomed large this Saturday, Reinier de Ridder spilled the beans during a presser: he'd reached out to Allen right after landing at Kill Cliff FC, the Florida-based gym where Allen trains, hoping to spar and exchange tips. De Ridder's pitch? A straightforward one—let's work together before our paths cross in the cage. Allen, though, shot it down without hesitation. Digging deeper, Allen revealed to MMA Fighting that his rejection wasn't fueled by any grudge against de Ridder himself. No, it boiled down to a simple breach of etiquette: the gym's coaches and trainers never bothered to ask Allen for his okay before welcoming another top UFC middleweight into their ranks. For context, if you're new to MMA, think of gyms like Kill Cliff FC as tight-knit communities where fighters share spaces, mats, and training partners. It's common courtesy to check with established members before adding someone who could directly compete with them, especially in a weight class like 185 pounds, where every edge counts.
To illustrate, Allen pointed to past examples where respect was shown. Take Nassourdine Imavov, another middleweight who swung by the gym ahead of their eventual clash. The team asked Allen upfront: 'Hey, are you cool with this?' Allen gave the green light, appreciating the heads-up—it even led to some fresh training perspectives before their fight. Imavov stuck around afterward, and when he wanted to return, the coaches looped Allen in again. 'No problem,' Allen said, valuing the mutual respect. But with de Ridder? Crickets. 'They never asked me a thing,' Allen recounted, his frustration clear. 'It felt like, screw me? Well, screw you too—not him, but whoever dropped the ball on that decision.' And this is the part most people miss: Allen's ire was squarely aimed at the team, not de Ridder, underscoring a broader issue of gym politics where newcomers can disrupt existing dynamics without a nod to veterans.
Adding fuel to the fire, Allen already had a solid crew of UFC 185-pound pals—friends he'd never pick a fight with unless they called him out first. For beginners puzzling over this, in MMA, divisions like middleweight are small worlds where fighters often know each other well, and training together can blur lines between competition and camaraderie. Allen made it plain: 'I've got plenty of buddies in this weight class already. Guys I won't touch unless they throw down the gauntlet. For the title? I'd go toe-to-toe with anyone on the planet.' His philosophy is straightforward—sparing no punches: 'I'm not your pal, don't want to be. I won't disrespect you, but if you cross me, we've got issues. No help from me, and I don't need yours. That's my mindset.' He'd been gunning for a de Ridder matchup since the Dutchman joined the UFC, long before this gym drama unfolded.
The whole Kill Cliff saga left a bitter aftertaste for Allen, who felt the handling was subpar. 'Yeah, it stung,' he admitted, 'but after years in this game, you learn to expect the unexpected from people. Most act in their own best interest—it's just business.' Some critics have pointed out de Ridder's big move: relocating his entire family to Florida for the opportunity. Allen's blunt response? 'Not my concern. Call it insensitive if you want, but I'm not losing sleep over it. I was a top guy at that gym, maybe the alpha dog. Their call to bring him in? A strategic play. Business as usual.' This stance could spark heated debates— is Allen's detachment refreshing honesty or just cold-hearted? And here's where it gets really divisive: Allen's loyalty to his inner circle ran deep, especially after de Ridder's wins over friends like Aung La N Sang (twice, with emotional fallout) and Gerald Meerschaert (in a nail-biter where fatigue played a role). Allen knew these guys personally—barbecues at homes, introductions to families—and vowed revenge on their behalf. Yet, when de Ridder joined Kill Cliff and hit it off with others, Allen drew a line: 'That's not me. I'm not phony. Ask me a question, I'll give it straight, even if it ruffles feathers.'
Ultimately, the de Ridder arrival strained Allen's ties with some coaches and fighters, prompting him to seek fresh pastures. No outright feud, but post his victory over Marvin Vettori in July, Allen craved a reset. Enter Chicago, where he teamed up with ex-UFC champ Belal Muhammad and his squad for a new chapter. 'I'm all about loyalty to my close ones,' Allen explained, perhaps to a fault. 'Like gang loyalty—ride or die.'
Now, with the fight imminent after Anthony 'Fluffy' Hernandez's injury sidelined him, Allen's primed for the spotlight. He'd been itching for this showdown, convinced of de Ridder's shortcomings. '[He's] unimpressive,' Allen declared. 'No standout talent that blows you away—nothing special.' To newcomers, this means Allen sees de Ridder as beatable, lacking that intangible 'it' factor that separates legends.
So, what's your take? Is Allen's staunch loyalty to friends a sign of integrity, or does it border on tribalism that stifles growth in MMA? Do you agree with his no-holds-barred honesty, or should fighters prioritize unity over personal boundaries? And on the controversy front, is it fair for Allen to dismiss the human side of de Ridder's family relocation, or does business trump empathy in combat sports? Drop your thoughts in the comments—we'd love to hear if you side with Allen, de Ridder, or somewhere in between!
