The year 2026 has been a masterclass in chaos for the UFC. If you thought the octagon was a place of calculated dominance, prepare to have your assumptions shattered. From Ilia Topuria’s title defense crumbling under the weight of a surprise finish to Khamzat Chimaev’s undefeated streak ending in a way that left fans scratching their heads, this has been a year where the script was written by the underdogs. And now, as Islam Makhachev prepares to defend his welterweight crown against Ian Machado Garry, even Arman Tsarukyan—the lightweight star who once shared the cage with Makhachev—finds himself torn between admiration and skepticism. What makes this particularly fascinating is how it reflects a deeper shift in the sport: the erosion of certainty in an era where upsets are not just possible, but expected.
Let’s start with Tsarukyan. He’s not exactly a stranger to the idea of unpredictability. After all, he’s the guy who once called out Dana White for not helping him pursue boxing ambitions, only to later admit that maybe the UFC wasn’t ready for his side quests. But here he is, now, expressing doubt about Makhachev’s chances. On the surface, it seems odd. Makhachev is a wrestling machine, a technical savant who’s built his empire on suffocating opponents with his ground game. Yet Tsarukyan’s hesitation isn’t just about the fight—it’s about the context. This isn’t 2020. This isn’t even 2025. This is 2026, a year where the rules of dominance have been rewritten by the very people who were supposed to be the exceptions. What this really suggests is that the UFC’s hierarchy is no longer a ladder you climb—it’s a minefield you navigate with a blindfold on.
Now, let’s talk about Garry. The Irishman isn’t just another challenger; he’s a walking case study in psychological warfare. His pre-fight taunts to Makhachev—'Everything you did is on the line'—were less about intimidation and more about exploiting the pressure of expectation. It’s a tactic that’s worked before, but what makes this different is the sheer audacity of it. Makhachev, for his part, dismissed the theatrics with a shrug, but I find it telling that he didn’t engage. Why? Because he knows that when the stakes are this high, the mind can be as dangerous as the body. The real question isn’t whether Garry can win—it’s whether Makhachev can convince himself that he’s invincible again. And in a year where invincibility has been a liability, that’s a terrifying thought.
There’s also the matter of the broader implications. If Garry pulls off the upset, it won’t just be a shock for the fans—it’ll be a seismic shift in how we view the UFC’s power structure. For years, the welterweight division has been a proving ground for champions, but now it feels like a pressure cooker. Fighters are no longer just competing for titles; they’re battling against the narrative of inevitability. This is why Tsarukyan’s comments matter. He’s not just a fan—he’s a competitor who’s seen the inside of the octagon. His hesitation isn’t a sign of weakness; it’s a recognition that the old guard’s grip on the sport is slipping. What many people don’t realize is that this isn’t just about Makhachev or Garry. It’s about a generation of fighters who’ve grown up in an era where the unexpected is the norm. And that’s a game-changer.
So, what’s next? If Garry wins, it’ll open the door for a new wave of challengers who’ll see the welterweight title as a target, not a trophy. If Makhachev holds on, it’ll reinforce the idea that the UFC’s elite still have the tools to dominate—but at what cost? Either way, the fight on August 15 isn’t just about who gets to wear the belt. It’s about whether the sport can still cling to the illusion of control in a world that’s become too unpredictable for comfort. As for me? I’m leaning toward the idea that this fight will be remembered not for the outcome, but for the moment it marked the end of an era. Because if 2026 has taught us anything, it’s that the future doesn’t care about the past. And that’s a lesson even the greatest champions might not be ready to learn.
