In the high-stakes world of mixed martial arts, where belts signify supremacy and legacy, a peculiar dispute has emerged around one of the UFC`s most unconventional titles: the BMF (Baddest Motherf***er) championship. At the heart of this unfolding drama are two of the sport`s brightest stars: current BMF titleholder Max “Blessed” Holloway and the reigning featherweight and newly crowned lightweight champion, Ilia “El Matador” Topuria. Their disagreement isn`t over a future fight booking, but rather, a surprising claim of ownership over a belt that was never formally contested between them.
The Contention: A Belt Not On The Line
The genesis of this controversy traces back to Holloway`s recent, spectacular defense of the BMF title against Dustin Poirier at UFC 318. Holloway, fresh off a definitive victory, was met with a social media post from Ilia Topuria, who shared an image of himself posing with a BMF belt, accompanied by the bold declaration, “still mine.”
Holloway, known for his composed demeanor and sharp wit, expressed bewilderment at Topuria’s actions. His primary contention is simple and pragmatic: the BMF title was demonstrably not on the line when Topuria defeated him at UFC 308. At that time, Holloway was not yet the BMF champion, and Topuria’s victory was a featherweight title defense, not a contest for the symbolic BMF strap.
“It just makes no sense what he’s doing walking around with it,” Holloway stated at the post-fight press conference, drawing a clear parallel: “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.”
The BMF Belt`s Peculiar Pedigree
To fully grasp the irony of Topuria`s claim, one must understand the unique origins of the BMF title. Unlike traditional divisional championships, which are earned through a clear path of contendership and sanctioned by the athletic commission, the BMF belt was conceived as a one-off, “honorary” title. It was created specifically for the grudge match between Jorge Masvidal and Nate Diaz at UFC 244 in 2019, symbolizing a nebulous, fan-decided notion of who truly embodies the spirit of a “baddest motherf***er” inside the octagon, without the constraints of weight classes or official rankings.
When Holloway later captured the BMF title from Justin Gaethje with a highlight-reel knockout at UFC 300, he became the *official* custodian of this unique, symbolic accolade. Topuria`s subsequent win over Holloway, while a significant achievement in his career and one that propelled him to featherweight dominance, did not involve the BMF title in any official capacity.
Topuria`s Intent: Ego, Marketing, or Misunderstanding?
Why would Topuria, a fighter who now holds two legitimate UFC championship belts (featherweight and lightweight), cling to a symbolic title he didn`t formally win? Several interpretations emerge. It could be an audacious display of ego, an assertion that his victory over Holloway inherently makes him the “baddest,” regardless of official stipulations. It could also be a shrewd marketing tactic, adding another layer of intrigue to his already formidable persona and potentially laying groundwork for a future, legitimate BMF challenge, should Holloway ever step up to lightweight.
However, Holloway`s perspective highlights the pragmatic absurdity of the situation. His observation, “Why did you spend money on a damn f*cking belt? … I know you’re rich and all, but that’s just a waste of money,” cuts to the core of the matter. From a purely technical standpoint, purchasing a replica of a belt you didn`t officially win, and then brandishing it as your own, is an unusual maneuver. It suggests a strong desire to control the narrative, perhaps to overshadow the fact that the BMF belt remains firmly in Holloway`s possession.
Implications for Future Encounters
While an immediate rematch between Holloway and Topuria seems unlikely given their current trajectories in different divisions (Holloway at BMF/featherweight, Topuria as lightweight champ), this war of words adds a compelling subplot to their respective legacies. Holloway, ever the astute competitor, seems more amused than offended, viewing Topuria`s actions as a curious misstep rather than a genuine threat to his title reign. Yet, every public declaration, every symbolic claim, chips away at the perceptions of fans and pundits alike.
The “BMF belt brouhaha” is a fascinating microcosm of the psychological warfare often waged outside the cage. It`s a reminder that in combat sports, the narratives spun and the claims made can be as impactful as the punches thrown, even when they involve a belt that exists as much in the realm of symbolism as it does in physical form. As long as Topuria continues to parade his unofficial BMF hardware, he can expect Holloway to continue reminding him of the official, and rather expensive, truth.
