When Dakota Ditcheva Faced MMA’s MOST HATED Cheater Ever

Описание: Taila Santos was Dakota Ditcheva’s most hated opponent — a fighter once caught and shamed, now returning louder, prouder, twice as arrogant. She mocked the “Barbie” champion, demanding the spotlight she hadn’t earned. But this time, the world would watch her pay for every word.


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This all started when Taila Santos, a jealous former UFC title contender who had an obvious envy for Dakota, turned their rivalry into theatre. At the official PFL press conference in Riyadh, in front of cameras and journalists, Santos called her overrated and smeared on lipstick while sneering that she was the real woman of the division. The insult stuck. The anger didn’t fade—it fermented, distilled into something sharp enough to cut through the cage air.
By the time the PFL final arrived, everything about them stood in contrast. Dakota—polished, undefeated—built on Muay Thai precision and discipline. Santos—the veteran wrapped in excuses—is trying to turn scandal into swagger. Headlines praised Santos’s experience, reminding everyone she once went the distance with Valentina Shevchenko, but the reminder worked both ways: it also reminded fans that she’d been caught and suspended for six months by the United States Anti-Doping Agency for a failed drug test. And in this sport, reputation is harder to scrub than blood from the mat.

Every fight before Santos was a rehearsal for that night in Riyadh, and the first real test came in Paris.

Cornelia Holm — Sweden’s relentless wrestler — believed she could break Dakota by pressure alone. The semifinal of the PFL Europe tournament looked like the kind of match a grappler dreams of: one fighter chasing the takedown, the other trying to breathe through the weight of a body pressed to the fence. For a round, Holm made the fight feel like claustrophobia. She clinched, wrestled, and dragged Dakota across the cage wall, grinding for control. But Dakota didn’t panic. By the second round, the adjustments appeared — short pivots, wider stance, lower hips. She began to punish Holm’s entries with jabs and snapping kicks that bit into the lead leg. The striker was learning to swim in wrestling’s current. When Holm shot for another takedown, Dakota sprawled, twisted, and ended on top. The crowd saw something rare: a striker turning a grappler’s strength into a weakness. And when the third round came, the rhythm shifted completely. Dakota pressed forward, working feints to open the body, then sent a left straight clean into the ribs. Holm folded in pain, the referee waving it off. That body shot wasn’t just a finish; it was a thesis statement. Dakota had learned how to punish anyone who tried to take her art away from distance.