In the high-stakes theater of mixed martial arts, where championships define legacies and bragging rights are meticulously earned, a curious anomaly has emerged. Max Holloway, the undisputed BMF (Baddest Motherf***er) champion, has voiced his bewilderment regarding Ilia Topuria`s recent public displays involving a replica of the very title Holloway just staunchly defended.
The BMF belt, a unique creation born from a blend of fan demand and marketing brilliance, first materialized in 2019 to crown the ultimate “baddest” fighter outside of traditional divisional championships. It`s a title rooted in a specific narrative, granted through a sanctioned contest, and now, it finds itself at the center of a peculiar dispute.
Max Holloway recently solidified his claim to the BMF title with a decisive victory over Dustin Poirier at UFC 318 in New Orleans. This win not only reinforced his reputation as one of the sport`s most resilient and dynamic competitors but also cemented his possession of the coveted “Baddest Motherf***er” strap. Yet, mere moments after this triumph, a tweet from Ilia Topuria surfaced, featuring a photo of *a* BMF belt accompanied by the declaration, “still mine.”
This claim, to anyone familiar with the sport`s sanctioned realities, presents a fascinating dichotomy. Topuria, an undeniable force in the featherweight division who decisively defeated Holloway at UFC 308 last October, did so in a standard non-title bout. The BMF belt was not on the line, nor was it ever stipulated to be. Following that victory, Topuria moved up to the lightweight division, where he subsequently claimed the 155-pound championship by dispatching Charles Oliveira at UFC 317. His trajectory has been nothing short of stellar, yet his latest assertion regarding the BMF title seems to originate from an alternate timeline.
Holloway, known for his calm demeanor and insightful commentary, addressed Topuria`s peculiar claim at the UFC 318 post-fight press conference with a bemused expression. His critique was not a challenge for a fight — a rematch, though compelling, seems unlikely given Topuria`s recent move to lightweight and their relatively recent initial encounter — but rather a pointed questioning of the logic behind such a public display.
“It just makes no sense what he’s doing walking around with it, or whatever,” Holloway stated. “Did you see [Islam Makhachev] walking around with [another] champion’s belt after beating [Alexander Volkanovski] two times? You know what I mean? Like, the belt wasn’t on the line. Get over it, brother. Why did you spend money on a damn f*cking belt?”
Holloway`s analogy is particularly astute. In combat sports, the reverence for a championship belt stems from its official sanctioning and the arduous journey undertaken to acquire it within defined parameters. To parade a belt that was not contested, and presumably, was acquired through personal purchase rather than competitive victory, certainly invites scrutiny. The implication is clear: the perceived value of such a claim diminishes significantly when it lacks official validation.
The reigning BMF champion further elaborated, “That’s just crazy to me. I know you’re rich and all, but that’s just a waste of money.” This comment, delivered with a hint of irony, underscores the perceived absurdity of Topuria`s actions. While Topuria`s success has undoubtedly brought him considerable wealth, investing in a replica belt to substantiate a claim for a title that was not, by any official measure, contested, strikes a peculiar chord within the sport`s established traditions.
As both fighters currently operate in different weight classes, an immediate rematch remains a speculative prospect rather than a concrete plan. However, Holloway`s public dismantling of Topuria`s “phantom belt” claim injects a fresh layer of narrative intrigue into their ongoing dynamic. It serves as a reminder that in the world of professional fighting, a championship is not merely a piece of hardware; it is a symbol of legitimate conquest, officially sanctioned, and unequivocally earned. Any deviation from this principle, as Holloway politely but firmly suggests, might just be a “waste of money.”
