Conor McGregor opened up about the now-notorious brawl that broke out after his loss to lightweight champion Khabib Nurmagomedov at UFC 229, offering his perspective in detail for the first time in a recently released interview with self-help guru Tony Robbins.

In the interview, which was taped in early-April, McGregor said he felt like he landed the final strike of the night and expressed his desire for a rematch with Nurmagomedov.

"At the end of the day, I landed the final blow of the night, right on his brother's eye socket," McGregor said on Robbins' podcast. "Although the match didn't go my way, the fight went my way. And trust me when I tell you, Tony, this war is not over. If this fight does not happen again, if it does not get reset, it's on them. They're running away. I'm here for the fight and here for the rematch."

Nurmagomedov beat McGregor last October by fourth-round submission. In the immediate aftermath, the violence spilled outside of the Octagon. Nurmagomedov, McGregor and their corner people were later suspended and fined for their roles in the melee by the Nevada State Athletic Commission (NSAC).

After submitting McGregor, Nurmagomedov got into a verbal exchange with McGregor's cornermen, then climbed over the cage and took a running jump toward them. Nurmagomedov and Dillon Danis, a teammate of McGregor's, threw punches at one another while security tried to break things up.

Back inside the cage, McGregor saw what was going on. He ran in the direction of Nurmagomedov and hopped on top of the cage. McGregor was met there by Abubakar Nurmagomedov -- one of Khabib's teammates whom McGregor mistakenly referred to as Khabib's brother -- who was also trying to join the fight outside the Octagon.

"I seen him there, it was like a Christmas present," McGregor said. "He was right there. I just smacked him right in the eye socket. We started fighting on top of the cage. It was broken up."

Once down from the top of the cage, McGregor said he situated himself with his back against the fence in order to see any potential danger coming his way. McGregor said at that point he didn't know who was security and who was in there trying to swing at him.

"What happened was, two of his teammates ran and jumped over [the cage]," McGregor said. "Right behind me. For me, with my mindset, it was fascinating for me to watch back. Because I got to a safe place, I was good. I got to a place where I was aware. I could see any oncoming threat and deal with it. They came right over my back. Right over my back."

The two Nurmagomedov teammates whom McGregor referred to were Zubaira Tukhugov, who engaged in punches with McGregor, and Esedulla Emiragaev, who landed punches to McGregor's head from behind. Security and commission officials separated the parties.

Then Abubakar Nurmagomedov and McGregor got into it again.

"The final one was the original brother who was on top of the cage," McGregor said. "He broke free from the security, ran at 100 miles an hour towards me. He threw a right hand. As he threw the right hand, I threw a left hand. Boom. There's an image, an aerial image, of the right hand just whipping by my face and my left hand just landing flush down the pipe. The final blow of the night. So, that's it. I win."

McGregor, 30, has not fought in the UFC since that brawl. He was suspended six months, retroactive to the day of the fight, and fined $50,000 by the Nevada commission. The NSAC suspended Khabib Nurmagomedov nine months and fined him $500,000. Khabib Nurmagomedov is expected to return in September and defend his title against interim champion Dustin Poirier.

There is no timetable for McGregor's return, and he told Robbins he wants "what I deserve" from the UFC to get back in the Octagon.

"I just want my worth," he told Robbins. "There's a lot of politics in the game. The fight game is full of sharks. But I'm the f---ing whale, so I want what's mine and that's what I'm gonna get -- what I deserve."

McGregor, though, is still angling for a rematch. He said he broke his foot 2 1/2 weeks before UFC 229 when he kicked a training partner who was shooting in for a takedown. McGregor said two of his toes bent backward, and a doctor had to come into the cage and reset them. He said his foot swelled up "like a balloon" and that he probably should have rescheduled the Nurmagomedov fight but chose not to.

"I wanted to compete," McGregor said. "I wanted to get in there."

McGregor admitted to Robbins that he had "lapses in commitment" to fighting leading up to that bout. And the injured foot made it harder for him to cut weight. McGregor said he was severely dehydrated and didn't sleep for 48 hours leading into the weigh-ins.

McGregor added that he felt like his mindset was too defensive in training camp, which goes against his "attacking" style.

"I gave him my respect. Congrats, he won the match," McGregor said of Nurmagomedov. "Let's see what happens next time. I'm confident we'll get it again. Let's go again. I am humble in victory or defeat, no matter what. It's a sport at the end of the day. A gruesome sport, but a sport."

BALTIMORE -- The Baltimore Orioles have reached the century mark.

On Tuesday, the Orioles surrendered their 100th home run of the season, making them the fastest team to ever reach that mark. They achieved the dubious distinction in the fifth inning, when New York Yankees outfielder Clint Frazier drilled a three-run shot to dead center against O's starter David Hess. The home run, which traveled 411 feet and gave New York a 9-0 lead, was Frazier's second of the night and the third allowed by Hess in the game.

Baltimore's pitching staff, which was working its 48th game this season, reached triple digits nine games faster than the 2000 Kansas City Royals, who allowed their 100th home run in their 57th contest. The O's are on pace to surrender 338 homers this year, which would shatter the current record of 258, held by the 2016 Cincinnati Reds.

"We're facing good teams, but you gotta pitch," said Baltimore's rookie skipper Brandon Hyde. "You gotta pitch here. You gotta stay off the barrel. You gotta be able to locate. And if you don't, in a hitter's ballpark against guys that mash, you're going to give up a hundred homers, 40-something games into it."

The Orioles aren't the only ones serving up gopher balls at a record clip this year though. The Seattle Mariners, who've allowed 87 homers in 51 games, are also on pace to surpass the 2016 Reds. Overall, MLB hitters are homering in 3.4 percent of all plate appearances, up from 3.0 percent last season.

More than half of the home runs the Birds have given up this season have been hit by the Yankees and the Minnesota Twins. In 10 games against Baltimore, New York hitters have gone deep 29 times, including 20 times in five contests at Camden Yards. The Twins have 23 bombs in six games against the O's.

Entering play on Tuesday, the Orioles ranked last in the majors with a 5.63 ERA. They owned a .319 winning percentage (15-32) that was second worst, behind the Miami Marlins.

This has been such an epic season, brimming over with drama, quality, tears, surprises, incompetence, confusion, sackings, fight backs and heroism that I've decided two trophies (La Liga and the Copa del Rey) simply aren't enough.

So here are a few medals and awards that acknowledge that the tapestry of a Spanish season is not woven by excellence alone, that the supporting cast, sometimes, keep us on the edge of our seat, laughing, despairing, roaring (with joy or anger) almost as often as the elite do. This is their moment.

The 'My Height Might Be 5-Foot-5 But Inside I'm 6-Foot-5' Award

This one was very nearly a tie. Two diminutive guys, bursting with so much talent and character that you'd imagine they've been given theirs and someone else's as well: Santi Cazorla and Iago Aspas.

Aspas is a magician. It's that simple. He carried Celta Vigo on his back, scored at a higher goal-per-game rate than ever before in his career at a time when the majority of his teammates played like competition winners. "What are those three conjoined metal poles with a fishing net draped around them?" Celta's defenders and other attackers seemed to be asking each other for most of the season. They redefined clueless.

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Those of us who consistently adjusted our TV sets for parts of the season because it looked as if Celta were playing on pause or delay when the opposition were ruling around at double speed eventually accepted it was just that the boys from Balaidos were actually conducting a scientific experiment to see how closely they could flirt with gutless relegation and still have Aspas rescue them.

He is not only a wriggling, inventive, anarchic, heroic, lion-hearted imp, he's utterly brilliant value to watch whether you feel anything for Celta or not. And like some Galician papa bear cuffing his idiot cubs into line while simultaneously scaring off predators, he ensured that there was vigor, instead of rigor mortis at Celta these past couple of months.

All of which tells you how massive Cazorla's impact has been this season in order to (just) pip Aspas to the prize. Part of the judge's final decision, what swung the tie breaker, is that it wasn't so long ago that this 34-year-old with a tendency towards blushing and a bravery gland the size of Tenerife was in dreadful agony and fearful of his ability to walk, let alone play football.

Indeed, his doctor told him that if the operation to replace around nine centimetres of Achilles tendon enabled Santi to walk in the garden with his kids then it'd be considered a good success. Bacteria ate away at his leg, operations came and went, his continued excellence as an elite athlete shouldn't have been possible. Yet after he appeared as if by magic from a smoke-filled tube last August -- rejoining the club at which he truly made his name -- having lost considerably more than 600 days to injury and illness, he ensured that Villarreal fought off relegation.

Playing in a position and covering ground that would have tested a 25-year-old, Cazorla shuttled the ball around, prompted teammates to react, entertained the crowd, scored and created goals. And after he wept with frustration, embarrassment and self-reproach all the way home from Sevilla to Spain's eastern coast and Yellow Submarine HQ, having missed a penalty to save a point at Real Betis, he shrugged off the pain and raised his game.

This was magnificent from our award winner, and not only did he keep Villarreal up, take them to a European quarterfinal and play joyous football, he won back his place in the Spain squad too. Santi, we salute you.

The 'Exactly What Did I Do Wrong, Boss?' Award

Hands-down winner here: Sergio Reguilon. Born in Madrid, a Real Madrid supporter, joined the club 14 years ago, worked his way up through the ranks, was promoted into a team that looked as if it couldn't tie its own shoelaces. This 22-year-old left-back made his Madrid debut in the midst of a season that you would describe as comically hapless, if only that weren't too generous.

In La Liga, prior to Zinedine Zidane taking over, he started 11 times between November and April, and the team won 10 of those matches: a 91 percent win rate and four clean sheets. He even carried the fight, verbally, to Luis Suarez during Madrid's 1-0 defeat to Barcelona at the Bernabeu.

Once Zidane was in charge, the kid saw duty just twice more in 11 matches -- a win and a draw. Athletic, a decent user of the ball, and bristling with precisely the "you won't get past me" spirit that Los Blancos desperately needed a transfusion of all season, his omission was utterly bizarre. Zidane, meanwhile, managed four defeats and a draw in the nine matches without Reguilon in the team. Zizou, J'accuse!

The 'Hold On, Hold On, What Just Happened?' Award

This one's for Jan Oblak, and it's probably the only thing he'd like to drop all season. La Liga's best keeper, by a distance, the Slovenian was the first one to give the outside world a hint that not everything was cooking by gas at Atletico Madrid. He held off and held off accepting the club's offer of a new contract while, given the fact that on his day he's easily in contention to be considered the world's No. 1 keeper, the rest of Europe's big-spending, big-ambition clubs hovered. "Leave me alone, stop hassling me about this," was his overall attitude.

Then, suddenly, even though World Cup-winning Lucas Hernandez makes it clear he's jumping ship for Bayern Munich, Oblak trusts Atleti and signs up for a further two years, until 2023, with a buyout clause of €120 million. What immediately follows is that Diego Godin leaves, Juanfran leaves, Filipe Luis leaves, Diego Costa completes a season where he's scored two La Liga goals, Antoine Griezmann announces he's moving this summer, Chelsea's transfer ban makes it likely they'll want Alvaro Morata back and Rodri is the subject of a heavy, heavy "we want you now" seduction from both Barcelona and Manchester City -- one of which he seems likely to accept.

Oblak surely is now furiously rereading the small print of that contract looking for get-out clauses, right?

The 'Don't Tell Everyone Or They'll All Be At It' Award

Celta and Madrid had six coaches between them this season. The former nearly got relegated, the latter embarrassed themselves. Barcelona's Ernesto Valverde has won -- at the time of writing and with the Copa del Rey final to come -- four trophies in two seasons, and the first questions he had to answer after being knocked out of the Champions League semifinal, by one goal, were: "Are you thinking about resigning?" "Are you worried about being sacked?"

Betis just dismissed the coach who won them a place in European football last season and took them within three points of repeating that feat, despite his directors not signing him a decent goal scorer, and who coached Los Verdiblancos to wins over Madrid, Barcelona, Atletico and Sevilla while doing so.

In the midst of all this, Espanyol's board withstood massive criticism, pessimism and pressure to sack Rubi, when his team won just twice in 16 matches and sank to within two points of the relegation zone. They finished seventh and play UEFA football for the first time in more than a decade next season.

Better still, however, is Marcelino's story. At Christmas, driving back to his Asturian home with his wife and mother, he crashed into a wild boar that darted out onto the darkened road in front of him. His injuries were minor, his mother's not so. His team was scoring fewer than a goal per game, the title race was lost to them, they had just four victories in 17 outings, and given that the Mestalla is an ultra-unforgiving venue, his job was in serious doubt. Just a few days earlier the Mestalla had indulged in the traditional "Panolada," which signified "Get Out!" to both owners and the coach.

His employers held firm, his players rallied. He kept his job. Form is temporary, class is permanent, they recalled.

Cut to today. Valencia's centenary season is decorated with a Europa League semifinal, a Copa del Rey final and, most importantly, fourth position and the Champions League next season. Sacking a coach isn't automatically wrong; it's just often a response from people who don't understand, who are suffering from what Sir Alex Ferguson called "squeaky bum time" and the results are often as catastrophic as the decision is stupid. Holding your nerve can work. This is another trophy for Marcelino, which he may wish to share with his board.

Great first quarter here in Toronto, where the Raptors lead 32-31 after 1. Kyle Lowry got off to a great start, scoring 12 points and hitting a couple 3s, while Giannis Antetokounmpo has 11. Both teams came out hitting shots after Sunday's slugfest.

CHICAGO -- Though the Chicago Cubs don't believe the injury is serious, shortstop Javier Baez is getting an MRI on his injured right heel as he's not in the starting lineup for the second straight game.

Manager Joe Maddon indicated Baez told him on Monday he was still hurting.

"Just that it's sore," Maddon relayed before Tuesday's game against the Philadelphia Phillies. "He keeps using the word sore. I just want to make sure that's all it is."

Baez was injured Sunday night against the Washington Nationals when he charged a ball and then threw awkwardly to first base in the bottom of the fifth inning. He left that game and hasn't played since.

"I didn't twist it or anything," Baez said. "I just went too hard to the ground and me heel kind of got jammed a little bit ... All the time I was running it didn't bother me. When I got to the dugout it was kind of pumping a little bit. It's just a bruise."

Baez is hitting .319 and is tied for the team lead with 11 home runs. Addison Russell has started the last two games in his place.

Looking up from the street, this concrete, angular building looks no different from the many Brutalist tower blocks dotted around Belgrade.

As you go inside, a prison-style gate with vertical metal bars guards the white front door of the first flat on the left.

This was the home of Novak Djokovic's grandfather Vladimir.

Here, the world's leading male tennis player sheltered as a small child while Nato bombed the Serbian capital between March and June 1999.

When the head-pounding drone of air-raid sirens rang out, families spanning several generations, along with neighbours and friends from nearby blocks, all filed down the stairs, through several steel doors and into the basement.

This was a formative time for Djokovic, now a 15-time Grand Slam singles champion and the man who will hold all four major titles for the second time in his career if he wins the forthcoming French Open.

As he celebrated his 12th birthday in May 1999, a decade-long crisis was tearing the Balkans apart and Belgrade was a focal point. Twenty years on, there is still tension over how Nato bombed Serbia for 11 weeks in an effort to push Serbian forces out of Kosovo, accusing them of atrocities against ethnic Albanians.

"When they sounded the alarm and the planes started to buzz, you never knew where the bombs would hit," says Djordjo Milenic, an elderly man who was friends with Djokovic's grandfather and lives in the adjacent block.

"They bombed whatever they wanted. 'Collateral damage,' they said. They bombed bridges, hospitals, pregnant women died."

His voice trails off. "It's hard, it's hard."

We are in Banjica, a residential area about 7km south of downtown Belgrade. Locals describe it as "an average suburb", populated by working-class families from a Serbian ethnic background who live in moderately cheap high-rise flats.

Djokovic's grandfather Vlada, as he was known by those close to him, lived in a two-bedroom flat here until his death in 2012.

Now it is unoccupied, owned - according to neighbours, at least - by one of Djokovic's aunts, who they think lives in Switzerland.

Nevertheless, it will always be intrinsically linked to the story of how Djokovic rose from humble beginnings to become one of the greatest tennis players that has ever lived.

Djokovic was here with his widowed grandfather because his parents, father Srdjan and mother Dijana, spent most of their time away from Belgrade as they toiled to provide for their three sons - eldest Novak and his two younger brothers Marko and Djordje.

That meant spending most of the year in Kopaonik, a mountain resort near Kosovo, more than four hours' drive from Belgrade.

By day they gave skiing lessons, by night they served pizza in the restaurant they owned. Srdjan and Dijana worked tirelessly to make ends meet while funding Novak's burgeoning tennis career.

Not wishing to disrupt their children's education, the Djokovic boys stayed with granddad Vlada.

"The basement is practically where we stayed. Everyone who could fit here they came, there was no limitation," Novak said in an American TV documentary made by CBS in 2011.

"We were waking up every single night at 2am or 3am for two and a half months because of the bombings," he said of those 78 days in 1999.

"In a way these experiences made me a champion, it made us tougher, made us more hungry for success."

Many people around Banjica know the Djokovic family. Some shared the basement where they sheltered.

Milica Milivojevic is a 31-year-old woman who lives upstairs in Djokovic's old block.

She says there were about "20 or 30" people inside the shelter, remembering it smelt of "moisture and humidity".

"We heard bombs, but not while we were in the shelter," she says.

"From outside we could hear bombs falling on Avala (a hill on the edge of Belgrade targeted because there was a telecommunications tower).

"Friends gathered in the basement, especially younger people. We played some board games - Monopoly or Risk - some older kids were drinking or doing drugs."

She starts laughing: "A lot was going on."

Of course there is no suggestion Djokovic, a child prodigy who had already appeared on national television proclaiming his dream was to win Wimbledon, took part in the 'edgier' adolescent activities.

He was too busy pursuing his dream of becoming world number one.

Bogdan Obradovic has seen a lot in a life which has been dominated by tennis and politics.

A promising junior player who moved into coaching aged 18, Obradovic was approached by Djokovic's father Srdjan to guide his 10-year-old boy.

Later, Obradovic went on to become Serbia's Davis Cup captain - leading them to one of the nation's greatest sporting triumphs when the team containing Djokovic won the trophy in 2010. Now 52, he serves as a member of Serbia's parliament.

"Novak's father and I had some mutual friends and they told him I was a good coach and could maybe help him," he says.

"We did one practice and I was completely shocked.

"He was completely prepared. He was warming up, he had a bottle of water, a banana, a towel, everything. I had never seen that from a kid so young."

Obradovic knew he was a player - at that time "weighing around 25kg" - destined for the top.

During the bombings he says they worked together "every day", going around Belgrade in search of courts they didn't have to pay to use.

"By that time people knew Novak and he was already popular so they helped him a lot. We trained at many different clubs," he says. "It was improvisation but that's how we did it.

"You know Only Fools and Horses? We love it here. And that is actually our mentality. We do everything through fun. And we always think, like Del Boy, our luck will change.

"We were in a terrible situation during the bombings. You hear the sound and see on the news, people were killed and everything is destroyed. But you can do nothing, and we found a way how to make fun.

"I was with Novak all the time, we practised together and every day was like normal. He was focused but having so much fun at that time. He laughed so much."

Djokovic often trained at the Partizan Tennis Club, an arm of the multi-sport body which also includes the 27-time national champion football team, plus successful basketball, water polo and volleyball sides.

Dusan Grujic has been the Partizan president for 22 years and says this is the club Djokovic "has in his heart".

"When you spend 11 years somewhere, like he did here, I don't know how we could say anything different," he adds.

"Novak made his first steps at Kopaonik, but that was only for a short time. When he was six, he came to Partizan. We provided him with everything we could and everything he wanted."

Photos of their greatest son, along with other alumni including 2008 French Open champion Ana Ivanovic, line the walls of a modest clubhouse.

One shows a boyish Novak wearing a Partizan baseball cap and scarf, alongside childhood friend Ivanovic. Djokovic's neighbour Djordjo Milenic says he used to tell grandfather Vlada that Novak "should marry her".

Another shows Djokovic at 16, wearing the club's black and white stripes as he concentrates intently on gearing up a double-handed backhand, a shot he has since honed into one of his most potent.

The clubhouse is being given its annual lick of paint on the day we arrive. Chairs and tables are stacked in the middle of the room while dust sheets cover the windows.

Dragan Gavrilovic - one of the members responsible for maintaining the 75-year-old club - is more than happy to down tools and talk tennis.

Pulling out a cigarette with white emulsion flicked over his fingers, he says: "When Novak was still small, from about 12 to 15, he used to come to play here and people from all over the city came to watch.

"They knew - and we knew - he was destined for big things. Everybody wanted to see him. They wanted to see history being born."

Back in Banjica, behind his old apartment block, a colourful mural shows Djokovic flanked on one side by the patriarchal grandfather he doted on, childhood coach Jelena Gencic on the other.

Locals wander past without blinking an eye. Some may not even realise Djokovic lived there, but not many.

A woman sweeping up leaves and dirt outside the one flat which has a garden stops to speak with us. "Yes, you should write about Novak, you should," she says.

"He's like from heaven. He's not human, yet he is a modest, normal guy."

She has lived here for 40 years. She points to the concrete football pitch behind us, where a few stray dogs are sleeping in the sun.

"That's where he used to play football. When he had time, of course, because he trained so much.

"Then he became famous, but he would still come here as often as he could, if it was for one day or five minutes."

The woman is reluctant to give her name and disappears back into her yard saying she doesn't want to talk any more.

But she returns a few minutes later, clearly unable to stop herself sharing the pride and love she has for Djokovic.

She was one of the many who spent nights down in the basement bomb shelter. Once that subject comes up, she retreats again.

"Let's not talk about that," she says. "It's not nice to talk about what your neighbours did in such a delicate time."

Yet she adds: "When we were there I told the younger ones to run, to leave the country. At that time we thought they will not bomb the civilians. But they did."

Nato - the North Atlantic Treaty Organisation, the world's most powerful regional defence alliance - began its air strikes against Serbia on 24 March 1999.

Accused of ethnic cleansing in Kosovo, Yugoslav leader Slobodan Milosevic's regime was targeted in an attempt to force their troops out and allow international peacekeepers in, after diplomatic efforts failed.

The bombing campaign ended on 10 June 1999, when Yugoslav troops began to withdraw from Kosovo.

Nato said intervention was necessary to "halt the humanitarian catastrophe that was unfolding". But a number of attacks were "unlawful", according to Human Rights Watch - an independent organisation which investigates rights abuses across the world.

Wounds still run deep in Serbia, and resentment towards Nato - and the countries which make it up - is prevalent on the streets of Belgrade.

"We are trying to be 'part of Europe'. How come, when we are now part of Europe? How will they accept us, when we are European right now?" Djordjo Milenic, Djokovic's old neighbour, says.

"They bombed us and now they say we are friends. That's all organised by America and Britain."

Kosovo especially remains a major topic. A political message outside the Partizan Tennis Club - one of many such slogans daubed around Belgrade - reads: 'Kosovo is a holy Serbian land.'

Many feel the 'Western' media are obsessed with portraying a negative stereotype of the country as aggressive, unfriendly or hostile. That is another recurring topic of conversation in the city. And yet many others would rather move on.

"People think we are bad people," says George Mitic, a 37-year-old taxi driver.

"But they don't come and see for themselves. If you only watch the news you have a completely different view."

He tells a story from the previous night.

"I picked up some Scandinavians from the airport, they had come for business. They said they were scared.

"I said, 'why are you scared?' They replied, 'because you've had war here'."

"I told them we are open and friendly people."

Sasa Ozmo, a journalist for Sport Klub, describes Djokovic as a "national hero" who deeply understands the responsibility he has of promoting the nation's image across the world.

"But not only is he an ambassador outwards to the world, but he is also an ambassador within," he says.

"For example, there is a huge rivalry with Croatia - obviously there was the war and things stay fresh - but Novak is always very public about his support for the Croatian national football team.

"That doesn't sit well with a lot of people here, but he is trying to change perspective. He's really good at that responsibility."

Recently Djokovic finished top of a national newspaper poll which asked young people in Serbia who they looked up to the most.

"He is a huge role model. We've had some really huge athletes who have inspired generations but they haven't inspired people in the same way Novak has done," Ozmo adds.

"For example, we have a basketball player called Vlade Divac who is also a huge global ambassador and played in the NBA during the bombings.

"But Novak's range is much wider - he is a 'catch all' hero in Serbia. The way his personality is he can identify with people.

"Tennis is the country's third sport behind football and basketball - but Novak is the most popular."