Fight fans are always searching for the next great fight. Good fights happen all the time, and that keeps us happy from one card to the next. But no matter how many top athletes the sport boasts, great fights remain a rarity.

That's because great fights require something special. They require more than athletic talent or punching power or finishing ability. In fact, I've found that many great fights don't end in finishes at all, and when they do it tends to come as a bittersweet reward at the end of a titanic struggle. What defines a great fight is not the potential of a finish, but the refusal to be finished; not the knockdown but the return to the feet. A great fight starts between two humans, and seems to end with something much more.

And a great fight is complicated. A great fight not only inspires, it confronts. The great fights I've been lucky enough to witness have left me in a confused state of exhilaration and guilt. It's not easy seeing two people pushed to the limit of human endurance and beyond.

Daniel Cormier and Alexander Gustafsson had such a fight last weekend. Over the course of five rounds the two battled for Daniel Cormier's light heavyweight title, which has always seemed somewhat hollow in the absence of former champion Jon Jones, but which feels so much more substantial now. Gustafsson and Cormier fought brilliantly and brutally for five rounds that must've felt a thousand times longer in the cage than they did for the spectators at home.

Like all great fights, their battle was an unpredictable one. Just as soon as one man seemed to pull ahead, the other would grit his teeth and fight back. Each momentum swing was earned with not only guts but with brains.

In this installment of Pivotal Moments, I aim to capture the defining sequences of each round, no easy task with such an incredible, action-packed fight on the table.

( This is part one of a two-part article. You can find part two right here. )

ROUND ONE

When the first round of a fight sees one man flip his 205-pound opponent head over heels like an orca playing with a seal, it's hard not to see anything else as the defining moment of the frame--but I'm actually more interested in the 20 seconds or so that preceded Cormier's gravity-defying high crotch lift.

1. Gustafsson keeps Cormier at arm's length--look at that reach!

2. The Swede begins circling to his right.

3. Cormier quickly steps in and lands a hard left kick to the inside of Gustafsson's trailing left leg.

4. Gustafsson responds with a body kick . . .

5. . . . but Cormier presses immediately afterward, forcing Gustafsson back into the fence.

6. As Gustafsson continues to circle, Cormier once again hits him with a left low kick.

7. This time Gustafsson is compelled to chase Daniel off with some punches . . .

8. . . . but this is exactly what Cormier wanted, and before Gustafsson knows it the wrestler is in on his hips.

Cormier's early reliance on kicks was a brilliant strategic move for several reasons. Firstly, it undoes some of Gustafsson's absurd reach advantage--a gap of some nine inches if Gustafsson's claim of an 81" wingspan is to be believed. Since coming to MMA, Cormier has always been a surprisingly avid kicker. His confidence in his kicks is well-earned, as he throws them quickly and with good form, leaving his head out of range and extending his diminutive frame by relying on the length of his legs rather than that of his arms.

Cormier probably predicted that Gustafsson would exchange kicks with him, as he did to Jon Jones, but for Gustafsson the kicks are more show than substance--against Jon Jones he threw them to prove that he could rather than because they were particularly effective. And unless you're Samkor Kiatmonthep it's quite difficult to force someone backward with a kick, when more often than not the best way to beat a kick is to smother it. Cormier, looking to pressure, knew this. He was prepared to step in and pressure Gustafsson any time the lengthy challenger looked to answer with kicks of his own, all while racking up points by running Gustafsson into his own, harder kicks at range. Ultimately, Gustafsson had no choice but to resort to his boxing, giving Cormier the shot he wanted.

As for the takedown itself, well. Just look.

1. Cormier first looks for a double leg takedown.

2. Gustafsson overhooks with his left arm and angles, mashing his right knee against the fence to weaken Cormier's grip on that leg while fighting it with his right hand.

3. Rather than battle for a position for which Gustafsson is clearly well-prepared, Cormier abandons his double leg and switches to a single, clasping his hands behind Gustafsson's left thigh.

4. Cormier walks back and to his left, trying to rip Gustafsson away from the fence and get into position for the takedown.

5. But Gustafsson is savvy and fights to get his leg back against the cage.

6. Cormier looks once again to suck Gustafsson's leg toward himself--he needs to get his hips close to Gustafsson's in order to have enough leverage for a lift, and to do that he needs to work around to Gustafsson's side.

7. Showing true craft, Cormier uses his right foot to drag Gustafsson's leg toward himself . . .

8. . . . at which point he quickly steps around to Gustafsson's left . . .

9. . . . pops his hips to lift Gustafsson off his feet . . .

10. . . . and finishes with a lift of the arms that sends the Mauler tumbling head over heels to the canvas.

Gustafsson is a more-than-capable wrestler by MMA standards, and the deftness with which he blends his striking and grappling together is admirable, but Cormier just has too many tricks up his sleeve for a relatively inexperienced wrestler to ever compete with him in a prolonged exchange. Cormier displayed much of the same tenacity and smooth chain wrestling that had Gustafsson tapping to Phil Davis five years ago, and spent most of the remainder of the round on top of Gustafsson, landing punishing blows to body and head.

ROUND TWO

Of course, this wasn't the same man that Phil Davis beat in 2010, and Gustafsson carried Cormier's weight far better than former title challenger Anthony Johnson did. "Rumble" may have crumbled under Cormier's wrestling prowess, but Gustafsson simply got back to his feet, and worked his way back into the fight.

I don't know the man personally, but Daniel Cormier strikes me as an extremely competitive person, one who doesn't take kindly to being outdone, especially at his own game. Gustafsson and his team talked about using some of the elbows and clinch tactics that Jon Jones employed against Cormier, but it seems the best thing they learned from the former champion was the value of out-wrestling a man who prides himself on his wrestling.

1. Having just stuffed a Cormier takedown, Gustafsson retreats to center cage.

2. Cormier, determined to get the takedown his corner asked for, marches confidently into range . . .

3. . . . but Gustafsson times his approach brilliantly, stepping in as Cormier comes forward and attacking with his signature high double.

4. A short drive and a bit of sideways head pressure, and Gustafsson drives Cormier to the ground.

5. Cormier quickly works back to his feet . . .

6. . . . and turns into Gustafsson's bodylock . . .

7. . . . at which point Gustafsson decides to break.

8. Cormier continues to pursue, casually measuring with his rear hand as he would on the wrestling mats.

9. Of course, this is no wrestling match, and Gustafsson shoots a quick jab over the top of Cormier's extended right arm.

10. A right uppercut comes next . . .

11. . . . and then a left hook while Cormier remains frozen on the end of Gustafsson's punching range.

12. Not done yet, however, Cormier takes a step toward Gustafsson, telegraphing his intentions.

13. Another measuring jab from Gustafsson as Cormier commits his weight forward . . .

14. . . . and a short right hand clean on the champion's jaw . . .

15. . . . which also takes Gustafsson's head off-line, avoiding the right hand of Cormier and allowing him an angle of escape.

Gustafsson's wrestling really does deserve praise. He may not be able to contend with Daniel Cormier in the exchanges, but it's no fluke that the Mauler became the first man to take down former champion Jon Jones, and only the second to take down Daniel Cormier. Timing is what turns the Swede into such an effective shooter despite his 6'4" frame. Faced with an opponent who knows he needs to close the distance to be effective, Gustafsson took just enough backward steps to draw Cormier forward. Cormier came in, confident and determined, but never expecting to have to defend a takedown.

From a strategic perspective, this couldn't have been more perfect. In a fight that was largely decided by grit and perseverance, this was one sequence in which Gustafsson showed off his ability to do the exact right things at the exact right times. By first drawing Cormier into a takedown shot and putting him on the canvas, Gustafsson reminded Cormier that he wasn't as easy to outgrapple as the lopsided first round might have suggested. He also seemed to stir up a little resentment in DC, who immediately resumed his forward movement with ill intent, determined to get back. And it was at that moment that Gustafsson opted to remind Cormier of his most dangerous skillset, nailing him with a series of hard punches, designed to keep him at range and prevent him from shooting. By the time Cormier managed to slip back into boxing mode, it was already too late, and Gustafsson was out and away.

Of course, the risk of challenging a competitive man to compete is that you may find yourself dragged into waters much deeper than you realized. Gustafsson may have correctly identified that Cormier gets a kind of tunnel-vision when he feels himself being beaten, but a man like Cormier might say that tunnel-vision only allows you to clearly focus on your target. Now Gustafsson found himself faced with a man who was determined to fight to the bitter end to keep his belt--the kind of man that only Jon Jones could outhustle.

He needed something drastic to stay in the fight.

Look for part two of this breakdown this Saturday.

For more on UFC 192, including discussion of Cormier-Gustafsson and the emergence of K-1 Ryan Bader, check out the latest episode of Heavy Hands, the only podcast dedicated to the finer points of face-punching.