UFC 317: The love/hate thing with Ilia Topuria is only natural — after all, he's killing off your idols

Yahoo

4 hours ago

One of the unfortunate tasks of a young star in the fight game is to bring ruin to all of yesterday's heroes. The boos raining down on Ilia Topuria at Thursday's UFC 317 pre-fight press conference had less to do with his Spanish-Georgian roots than the grim reality that he's out here chopping down the most celebrated fighters in his vicinity.
There was Alexander Volkanovski, the lovable king of featherweight, who'd never lost in the weight class. That's who Topuria took his first UFC title from. Next was Max Holloway, the fast-burning BMF. I mean, what can you even say to that one? It is what it is.
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And now Charles Oliveira, a UFC record-holder who has won the hearts of fans through sustained perseverance and unsung improbability. Oliveira was presented an award at the UFC Hall of Fame on Thursday night for his charitable works in Sao Paolo. A role model. Now he's reduced to being the next victim.
Volkanovski, Holloway, Charlie — through these people we could dream.
And now Topuria is out here as a kind of serial legend killer, with more finishes than lacquer, barely emoting as he tamps them into the soft earth. Worse, he can be seen after the carnage biting on the stems of roses like he's Pepé Le Pew. Great. A Lothario in our midst, too? That's all we need. Bring your wife around him at your own peril. Every time he blows a kiss, lawyers get involved.
Does it help that it's nothing personal when he fells one of these icons?
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It does not. His indifference to what he's doing is … unnatural. Mercenary vibes. For anyone who sees it as a sign of respect, let me at least introduce you to the idea that it might just be an extra layer of condescension. He says he wants to blow up the fight world and get out by 30 years old.
That's just brazen madness. Sadistic. Audacious.
Of course, all these things taken together are what makes him a superstar at a time when the UFC could really use one. Jon Jones just fled the one scene that fight fans care most about, which is the heavyweight scene. He's now retired and gloating about it. Conor McGregor is almost a bad word these days. You say his name and people think it sounds ignorant to use such language.
But Topuria? He is still very much in the process of unlocking the imagination. He's still a shared experience for fight fans, who can huddle up around some genuine real-time awe. There are unclear destinations out there for him. Far-off possibilities. The Santiago Bernabeu, for instance. A bullring. That fight with Islam Makhachev, who made the jump to lightweight just as Topuria came up to 155 pounds for this chance at a second title. That's still possible. Maybe a jump to 170 pounds, even.
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The more absurd the better.
Maybe we can even squash the beef he formed with Paddy Pimblett. That fight is growing at an alarming rate. Absurd, absurd … God, I hope it happens.
And those who were cheering Topuria at the presser understand the adventure that awaits if he gets by Oliveira. The 'bigness' of what's out there. You couldn't hear it, but UFC CEO Dana White was cheering him too, yelling in his mind 'you better not blow this!' As the UFC negotiates its new broadcast rights deal(s), guys like Topuria help drive prices. Who else is out there who can break us from the doldrums? Who can recapture some of the magic that we know can exist, because we've seen such perfect storms before?
Will Ilia Topuria's brilliance translate to the lightweight division?
(Chris Unger via Getty Images)
Topuria will hear his share of boos on Saturday night. Some people aren't super keen on change, and especially hostile takeovers. Those 'Charles marks' who bleach their hair in solidarity have feelings invested, and they're hoping against hope that "Do Bronx" takes a stand on Saturday night. Vegas doesn't think he will. BetMGM sportsbook has Oliveira hovering in the range of a 3-to-1 underdog.
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But it's based on the respect for Topuria more than anything else. He's 28 years old, and he's knocking down the gold standards. He actually wants to fight Arman Tsarukyan, the back-up fighter for Saturday night, making him the first of his kind. He wants Makhachev. He craves this sport's bluest bloods. And he's so far made the hard thing he's doing look stupidly easy.
Think about it. Part of the reason that people are debating whether Topuria's current three-fight run might become the steepest, greatest three-fight run on record is because they have such respect for those conquests. Volk washed? After he lost to Topuria he went out and schooled Diego Lopes to win back the featherweight belt. Holloway washed? We'll find out next month when he fights fellow UFC icon Dustin Poirier at UFC 318.
And now Charles Oliveira, who still looks exactly like Charles Oliveira.
To watch the legends get taken out one by one, it stings. Volkanovski, Holloway, Oliveira. These are the sacrifices. Yet what is a superstar if he doesn't consume the legacies of what stood before him in declaring his own era? You can boo him all you want, but it plays right into something Topuria already knows.
And that is this: While a good champion knows how to control his emotions in the ring, a great champion knows how to control the emotions of everyone outside of it.