For years, Alexander Volkanovski reigned supreme in the UFC featherweight division, a seemingly invincible force known for his relentless pressure, tactical brilliance, and granite chin. “The Great” built a legacy of dominance, defending his title five times and rarely looking vulnerable. Yet, recent events have peeled back the layers of this formidable exterior, revealing a candid self-assessment that underscores the often-unseen costs of elite combat sports.
The Tumultuous Turn of Events
Volkanovski’s unparalleled reign at 145 pounds concluded abruptly at UFC 298 in February 2024, when Ilia Topuria delivered a definitive knockout blow, snatching the featherweight title. This loss, while shocking, wasn`t an isolated incident. It followed a mere four months after another devastating knockout—a head kick from Islam Makhachev during their lightweight title rematch at UFC 294. That bout had been a short-notice affair, with Volkanovski stepping in as a replacement, driven by an unyielding desire to compete and conquer.
Concussions: The Silent Aftermath
It’s the aftermath of these bouts that Volkanovski now reflects upon with a clarity born from hindsight. In a recent interview, he made a startling confession: the concussion sustained from Islam Makhachev was, in his own words, *worse* than the one inflicted by Ilia Topuria. This revelation challenges the common perception that the visual severity of a knockout directly correlates with the brain`s trauma. Volkanovski stated:
“I had a decent concussion from Islam. I feel like I had more of a concussion from the Islam one. Even though I was knocked out longer with Ilia, I had a lot more of the symptoms with the Islam one. … So I didn’t have head contact [training afterward], but then when you’re easing into it, now you’re easing into it, making sure you’re not getting hit. Trying to put yourself in safer positions and you even start camp wrong. I should have had the break.”
This admission highlights a critical aspect of fighter safety: the insidious nature of concussions. Symptoms like prolonged mental fogginess, headaches, or cognitive impairments can persist long after the immediate lights-out moment, subtly affecting preparation and performance. Volkanovski’s description of “easing into” training without proper head contact, yet still starting camp “wrong,” paints a vivid picture of the compromised state he was in leading up to the Topuria fight.
The Paradox of the Warrior Mindset
Perhaps the most compelling part of Volkanovski’s narrative is his brutal honesty about his own decision-making. He doesn’t point fingers; he shoulders the blame for rushing back. This wasn`t due to external pressure, but an internal conviction—a defining characteristic of elite athletes who often believe they can defy physical limitations through sheer force of will.
“I can accept the situation and I’ll tell myself to make it work even though it’s probably not going to. I’m telling you, I went in there [ahead of the Makhachev rematch] going I’m going to be more dangerous now because I’m at 11 days. I literally told myself that. … I’m literally like, ‘This is the most dangerous you’ve seen me.’ I’m not beating him by decision, I have to go, I’m going to have to be more aggressive, I’m going to take more risks, and I literally believed it.”
This mindset, while instrumental in his rise to prominence, became a double-edged sword. The unwavering belief that he could “make it work,” even against medical common sense, speaks to the unique psychological makeup of a champion. It`s a trait that fuels greatness but can also, ironically, lead to self-sabotage when recovery is paramount.
Lessons Learned and the Road Ahead
Following the Topuria loss, Volkanovski returned to the octagon at UFC 301, securing a victory over Diego Lopes in a non-title featherweight bout. While this win demonstrated his enduring skill, Topuria remains the undisputed featherweight champion. Volkanovski`s candid reflections serve as a crucial reminder that even the most decorated fighters are human, susceptible to the very drive that defines them.
His story is a powerful cautionary tale for both athletes and the broader combat sports community. It highlights the critical importance of prioritizing long-term health over immediate gratification or perceived competitive advantage. The true measure of a fighter`s legacy, it seems, isn`t just in the belts they hold, but in the wisdom gained from their battles—both inside the cage and within their own minds.
Whether this hard-won wisdom will lead to a more cautious approach in his future bookings remains to be seen. But one thing is clear: Alexander Volkanovski has faced not only the physical blows of his opponents but also the psychological reckoning of his own ambition. And that, perhaps, is the toughest fight of all.
Marcus Blakely