Okay, so, picture this. You got Ilia Topuria, crazy fighter, just, you know, knocking out Alexander Volkanovski AND Max Holloway. Like, the dude’s on a roll. I mean, seriously, how many people can say they KO’d those two? And then, boom, outta nowhere, he’s like, “Let’s check out the lightweight division!” Bold move, right? I wouldn’t try that. Not the fighting—I mean the switching divisions. My knees crack just thinking about it.
Anyway, I digress. UFC 298 in Feb 2024? That’s when Topuria grabbed the 145-pound title, second round knockout—bam! The crowd must’ve gone wild. But wait, there’s more! Flash forward to UFC 308 last October, and who’s on the floor? Holloway. Topuria took him down neatly, almost like he’s asking, “What’s next on the menu?”
Now, here’s the twist—Topuria’s like, “Cool, I’m ready for some lightweight action!” He vacates the featherweight title, like they’re just shoes he’s grown out of or something. Meanwhile, Islam Makhachev is over here, not exactly rolling out the welcome mat. He’s skeptical, saying that Topuria might not be in line for the big 155-pound showdown. Commander of two divisions seems like a tall order. Kind of makes you wonder if they’ve bumped into each other at Whole Foods, just awkwardly staring over avocados.
Anyway—or hold on, wait, what was my point again? Yeah, Topuria has this podcast moment on “The Joe Rogan Experience.” Real talk: who hasn’t imagined themselves just sipping coffee with Joe, right? So, Topuria goes, “You know what? I deserve a championship clash with Islam. No more messing around with these contender fights.” I guess he’s not one for preambles. Who can blame him?
And he’s not budging—in fact, he’s staging his own sit-in of sorts. No fighting, only waiting, until someone (looking at you, UFC showdown makers) gets him that title clash. Funny, in a not-ha-ha way, how in the fighting world there’s even a political stratagem to sitting on your hands. Probably not what Gandhi had in mind.
But, hey, his logic? Crystal-clear. He relinquished the belt with a promise—a verbal pinky swear, if you will—that his next tussle would be for the lightweight crown. Now, every day that passes without that fight being signed feels like that awkward waiting period before a romantic proposal gone off-script. Everyone just sitting there, breathing a little heavier in anticipation. Only here, fewer roses.
Well, if Islam wants to keep asserting he’s the kingpin, maybe he ought to invite Topuria into the lightweight ring. I mean, as they say, put your fists where your mouth is. Or, um, something like that.
