Issue 233

September 2026

MMA has spent nearly 30 years discovering that when October arrives, belts change hands, legends fall, and somebody’s best-laid plans usually end up on the floor.

There are 12 months in every year, all handed roughly the same job description, yet October keeps showing up looking like the kind of dude you’d see on a bridge at 2 am with a bag of kittens. Belts evaporate. Carefully constructed career plans end up in tatters, and underdogs become top dogs. Maybe it’s the pumpkins. Maybe cutting weight is just extra infuriating when the rest of the world is shoving high-fructose treats into the grill. And now October 2026 has flipped onto the calendar looking awfully suspicious again. This October has five Saturdays, and the UFC has used every one to test our collective blood pressure and willingness to complain. UFC 332 opens the month, headlined by a bout for the vacant women’s flyweight title, with Deiveson Figueiredo against Payton Talbott underneath. The UFC is selling it as a showcase of rising stars, but the internet is annoyed it has to Google them to know who they are. The backlash has become loud enough that Figueiredo has already defended the card publicly, calling the criticism “a little annoying,” while Brendan Schaub went considerably further and called it the “worst main event in MMA history.” Perhaps that’s the perfect way for October to begin. Every explosion needs that suspicious little moment of silence before the bang. And MMA has spent enough Octobers teaching us that a quiet start to the month doesn't guarantee everyone will still be sitting in their seats by the end of it. Perhaps UFC 332 is a banger, and everyone quietly deletes a few posts on Sunday morning. That’s rather the point. Because waiting further down the calendar is UFC 333, where someone has already left a rather large box of matches. Alexander Volkanovski defends his belt against the unblemished Movsar Evloev, while Merab Dvalishvili and Petr Yan run back their beef for the bantamweight strap. Now, there’s no peer-reviewed data proving that hanging a plastic skeleton on your porch increases the likelihood of a memorable fight. But before October adds another chapter to its rap sheet, we dug through the archives. Buried in October’s back catalog are some of the sport’s most glorious wars, bizarre fever dreams, and seismic shifts that left fans staring slack-jawed at their screens. Consider what follows October’s greatest hits album. Except most of the hits landed squarely on someone’s chin.

OCTOBER 1997: JAPAN GOES COMPLETELY MAD

October unleashed its shock value in the form of PRIDE. On October 11, 1997, 47,860 people piled into the Tokyo Dome for PRIDE 1. That is a psychotic number of humans for a promotion on its first day of work. For perspective, PRIDE hadn’t built a loyal audience yet. It hadn’t produced Fedor, Wanderlei, or Cro Cop, and the wonderfully bonkers walkouts, which eventually made entering the arena look like an intergalactic rave.  What Japan did have was Rickson Gracie and a colossal grudge. Rickson was pure combat folklore, while Nobuhiko Takada carried the honor of Japan on his shoulders. Things had already gotten beefy in 1994 when Takada’s stablemate, Yoji Anjo, attempted a ‘dojo storm’ on Rickson’s Los Angeles gym with a pack of press in tow. It went spectacularly badly for Anjo, inflated the Gracie mythology, and created a public thirst for a Takada showdown. The actual fight was vastly shorter than the backstory. Takada circled, Rickson grabbed him, then mounted him, and locked in an armbar at 4:47 of round one. Years of martial arts intrigue settled before half the crowd had even found the toilets. The main event was a blowout, but a monster was born. PRIDE went on to stage 68 events, becoming a juggernaut where soccer-kicking someone’s face was encouraged, and it wasn’t unusual to see a fighter beating a massive taiko drum dressed in a loincloth. October didn't just give us a fight. It dropped the God Particle of MMA promotions right on Tokyo's lap.

2004: GSP DISCOVERS HIS HUMAN SIDE

Every GOAT needs a nemesis. Otherwise, what are MMA fans supposed to argue about for six hours on Reddit? On October 22, Georges St-Pierre arrived at UFC 50 undefeated at 7-0, just 23 years old, and Matt Hughes stood opposite him. GSP wasn't looking across at another fighter. He was looking at his hero. That was the problem. 

“I was intimidated by Matt,” St-Pierre told Ant Evans. “He was my idol, the best fighter in the world. I thought there was no way I could beat Matt Hughes. To me, Matt Hughes was a giant in MMA, y’know.”

He'd built Hughes into an omega-class foe, but according to GSP, the judges would have had him ahead in the round. Then, with the horn practically clearing its throat, Hughes caught him in an armbar. GSP tapped at 4:59. One second. It lit a fire in GSP and became the first of only two losses across a 28-fight career. He avenged it two years later to win the welterweight championship from Hughes, then repeated a lose-win feat against Matt Serra. Take away the two losses, and the already exhausting GOAT conversation becomes even more unbearable. GSP's supporters can forever point to the fact he eventually beat every man who beat him. His rivals for that imaginary crown have their own cases. Either way, Hughes left a permanent little scratch on an otherwise impeccable resume. October hadn't ruined GSP - it gifted him something to fight for, and MMA was better for it.

OCTOBER 2006: THE SPIDER TAKES THE HOUSE

Rich Franklin probably wishes October had been scrubbed from the calendar altogether. Heading into UFC 64, ‘Ace’ was the UFC’s All-American middleweight kingpin. Undefeated and riding an eight-fight win streak, he faced the unknown Anderson Silva. Silva had been in the UFC for less than a minute - 49 seconds, to be precise where turned Chris Leben’s head into a speed bag. Apparently, that was enough for a title shot. Where Silva’s first bout took one minute, this one took just one round to KO the seemingly unstoppable Franklin. Reflecting on winning the belt for the first time, Silva was mindful. 

“That fight was a huge turning point in my career,” he said. “It fulfilled a lifetime dream of mine and has changed my life in many ways. It has also given me a lot more responsibility having the belt.”

After that day, Silva went on to hold the title for 2,457 days, racking up 10 consecutive title defenses and a 16-fight winning streak that has only recently been beaten. And just for good measure, Silva fought him again. The following October. Franklin survived the opening round but didn’t get past 67 seconds into the second. Two Octobers. Two Franklin fights. Two finishes. October had found its favorite victim.

2010: BROCKTOBER GETS CANCELLED

October had already been gifted to Brock Lesnar, but Cain turned up and ruined the merch. Lesnar was the enormous, snarling heavyweight who had somehow become even more intimidating once people discovered those muscles actually worked. He’d won the belt off Randy Couture for the belt, mauled Frank Mir in their rematch, and survived Shane Carwin unloading the contents of a small armory into his head before submitting him. Cain was 8-0, weighed 20 pounds less than Lesnar at the weigh-in, and represented something rather different: a heavyweight who wrestled like a lightweight but punched like a heavyweight. Cain survived Brock’s initial stampede, then dismantled the biggest attraction in MMA. Velasquez ushered in the next generation of heavyweights who could wrestle, strike, and fight with pace. It took just four minutes and 12 seconds to cancel Brocktober. Lesnar had lost his belt and never returned as the champion the world grew to love. It marked the end of era which nobody wanted to see end.

2011: DIAZ CRASHES THE OLD BOYS’ CLUB

Nick Diaz hadn't fought in the UFC for five years, and he’d used his time away rather well. His first UFC stint had fizzled after three straight decision losses, so Diaz took his middle fingers elsewhere, bouncing through PRIDE, EliteXC and DREAM before becoming Strikeforce welterweight champion and ripping through a 10-fight winning streak. By 2011, the UFC wasn't getting the same animal who'd left. It was getting Nick Diaz with the software update. UFC 137 was supposed to give him an immediate title shot against Georges St-Pierre until missing a couple of press conferences cost him the gig. Instead, he got former two-division champ BJ Penn, a fighter Diaz considered a friend. 

“I don't fight my friends,” he said. “I don't care how much money you put in front of me. I don't care if you put millions and millions of dollars and you say whatever you want.”

Penn has signed the contract, which he claimed forced his hand. When they met, Penn started well, but Diaz fights get worse the longer you stay in them. After three rounds, Diaz had landed 178 significant strikes and won the decision. Then he grabbed the microphone and made sure nobody talked about anything else. “Where you at, Georges?” he demanded, calling out the champion whose fight he'd just lost. While Diaz was shouting his way back toward GSP, the battered Penn headed in the opposite direction: retirement. While Diaz was shouting his way back toward GSP, the battered Penn headed in the opposite direction: retirement. Penn did return but never won again. Here’s the properly weird October bit: neither did Diaz. The cursed UFC 137 became the final win of Nick Diaz’s career and the night BJ Penn’s winning days ended too. Two legends, one October night, and neither would ever have his hand raised again. Spooky.

2016: BISPING GETS HIS OCTOBER REVENGE

Michael Bisping had waited seven years to get revenge on Dan Henderson’s ‘H-Bomb’ that knocked him out cold. Not just for a second, but for ages. By October 2016, the world had flipped. Bisping was the fresh UFC middleweight champ, while 46-year-old Henderson was 2-3 across his previous five fights and heading towards retirement. Somehow, that earned him a title shot. Matchmaking occasionally requires you to stop asking questions and just enjoy yourself. Better still, UFC 204 was in Manchester, meaning Bisping got his chance at revenge in front of the people most likely to turn a sporting event into a pub argument. Henderson nearly ruined the homecoming anyway. He dropped Bisping twice with the same right hand that had haunted him since 2009. But this time Bisping used his inner Rocky and got back up. After five rounds, he took the decision win and put the H-Bomb ghost to bed. Henderson retired that night and never won again, but neither did Bisping. He lost his belt to GSP, got knocked out three weeks later, and retired. Just like Diaz-Penn five years earlier, an October fight had somehow become the last victory for one man and the last fight for the other. Seven years after Henderson supplied the knockout that followed Bisping everywhere, Bisping got his belt, his revenge, and the final win of his career. October loves closing accounts.

2018: OCTOBER JUMPS THE FENCE

There had never been an MMA fight quite this anticipated, or profitable. Nurmagomedov against McGregor sold 2.4 million pay-per-views, drew 20,034 people, and produced a $17.2 million gate. The hatred helped, but the undercurrent of religious East Vs West was never mentioned in the build-up. Then McGregor discovered trash talk becomes considerably harder when somebody is sitting on your chest, saying, “Let's talk now. Talk!” Khabib barked during the second round. McGregor replied, “It's only business.” Khabib forced the tap in round four, then immediately jumped the Octagon towards Dillon Danis and started another fight for free. The evening became so combustible that when Khabib demanded his belt, Dana White refused, stating that if he put the belt on, then people would go crazy and start throwing whatever they had into the Octagon. Khabib left surrounded by police instead. Nevada eventually handed him a nine-month suspension and a $500,000 fine, with the option to shave three months off the ban by participating in an anti-bullying campaign. Khabib declined, famously saying he wouldn't do it because Nevada was the state that protects prostitutes, gambling, and drugs. But October's biggest casualty may have been McGregor. He'd entered the night as the sport's biggest superstar and a simultaneous two-weight champion in his previous UFC fight. He would never reach those competitive heights again. His only victory after UFC 229 came against Donald Cerrone, who was on a losing streak, followed by nothing but losses. The McGregor we knew didn't disappear when Khabib squeezed his neck. But looking back, October 6 was the night the peak ended, and nobody in the West got the fairy tale they were after.

2019: ADESANYA DANCES INTO THE THRONE

Exactly one year after Khabib and McGregor turned October into a public riot, Israel Adesanya turned it into a West End musical. UFC 243 packed 57,127 souls into Melbourne’s Marvel Stadium, shattering the UFC’s all-time attendance record. Robert Whittaker was riding a nine-fight winning streak, while Adesanya strolled in unblemished at 17-0. Then came the bit nobody saw coming. Adesanya hit the arena doing a fully choreographed dance routine with three of his childhood crew, a theatrical spectacle Dana White had spent years shutting down. Adesanya later admitted how big the gamble was.

“If I lost this fight, I would have been the laughingstock of the world.” 

Instead of getting starched, Adesanya dropped Whittaker right on the horn in the first, then iced him at 3:33 of the second to grab undisputed middleweight gold. The tastiest October detail came afterward. Four years earlier, a broke, unranked Adesanya had bought a cheap ticket to sit in the highest tier of the exact same stadium and watch Holly Holm flatten Ronda Rousey. Now, 57,000 people had paid to watch him conquer the division. 

“I was in the nosebleeds,” Adesanya told Jon Anik immediately after the knockout. “And now I made his nose bleed.” 

Adesanya entered the fight dancing like he'd already won and left with the belt to prove it. October saw the dawn of a brand-new superstar. Four years later, on the same continent, Sean Strickland would take that belt from him. And Adesanya has not won a fight since. Australia therefore provided both ends of one hell of a sporting arc: the night the Stylebender became a superstar and the beginning of a downfall he still hasn't managed to reverse. October, at least, gave him the fun part.

2023: OCTOBER KICKS VOLK IN THE HEAD

Alexander Volkanovski had spent eight months wanting another crack at Islam Makhachev after their razor-close first fight. October finally gave him a shot, with the minor inconvenience of only 11 days to prepare. Charles Oliveira split his eyebrow in sparring, withdrew from UFC 294, and Volk answered the phone. 

“I’m coming for that finish,” he promised. “I can’t wait to go out there and shock the world.” 

Instead, Makhachev shocked him. Just 3:06 into the first round, Islam wrapped a left shin around Volk’s head and finished him with follow-up shots. The first fight required 25 minutes, five rounds, and enough debate to keep MMA podcasts running for months. The sequel needed 186 seconds. Worse, October appears to have collected interest. Volkanovski returned just four months later and was knocked out by Ilia Topuria, losing his featherweight belt and suffering consecutive defeats for the first time in his career. The man who entered October chasing double-champ immortality left it having been knocked out for the first time in a decade. Sometimes you spend months begging for another opportunity. Sometimes October answers the phone.

2024: SOMEBODY FINALLY SWITCHES MAX OFF

Max Holloway had spent a decade treating other people’s best punches as if they were mildly irritating weather. Across 33 professional fights, nobody had ever knocked him out. Then October introduced him to Ilia Topuria. Holloway arrived at UFC 308 fresh from one of the greatest knockouts imaginable, pointing at the floor before flattening Justin Gaethje with one second left at UFC 300. Topuria was unimpressed enough to offer Max the same invitation, pointing to the ground and daring him to trade. Holloway wisely declined, but it only delayed things. In the third round, Topuria hurt him with a right hand before a left hook finally switched off one of MMA’s most famously reliable chins at 1:34.

 “The first time I dropped him in his career,” Topuria said afterward. “I’m the first one to knock him out.” The result did more than protect Topuria’s perfect record. In the space of eight months, he had knocked out Alexander Volkanovski and Holloway, the two men who had effectively owned UFC featherweight for the previous decade. Holloway subsequently left featherweight behind and moved permanently to lightweight, meaning October hadn't merely produced another knockout. It helped close the book on an entire featherweight era.

HERE WE GO AGAIN

So, what does any of this prove? Scientifically, absolutely bugger all. October remains just 31 innocent days being framed by a suspicious amount of MMA evidence. But history says it’s worth paying attention. This is the month that has launched promotions, crowned superstars, killed winning streaks, ended eras, and occasionally sent the winner flying over the fence. Which brings us back to October’s flagship UFC 333. Volkanovski. Evloev. Merab. Yan. Four careers walking into the same month that has spent nearly 30 years rearranging the furniture. Maybe nothing happens. Maybe everyone wakes up the following day exactly where they expected to be. But if MMA has taught us anything, keep the pumpkins on the porch and your eyes on the fights. October hasn't finished with us yet.