How Max Holloway took UFC's BMF title from novelty gimmick to prestigious honor — and why it had to be him

By the breakneck pace of the UFC events calendar, the origin story of the BMF title feels almost like a piece of ancient lore. It’s from the pre-pandemic era, which basically makes it part history and part fairy tale to many fans. But those curious beginnings were also before Max Holloway got his hands on the belt and leant it some aura, of which he has plenty to spare.

The story starts like this: Once upon a time, there was a fighter who had an unshakeable hold on fans’ imaginations and a certain way with words to support it. That fighter was Nate Diaz, who went from being Nick Diaz’s little brother to a bonafide star after beating Conor McGregor on short notice in 2016.

He ended up losing a close decision in the rematch, then took a couple years off to count his money, before returning in 2019 to beat Anthony Pettis. Next, Diaz said, he’d like to fight someone who embodied a spirit of gritty violence, rather than tactical, judge-friendly point-fighting. That somebody was Jorge Masvidal.

“We’re fighting for the baddest motherf***er in the game belt, and that’s mine,” Diaz explained when pitching the matchup. “I’d like to defend it against Jorge Masvidal.”

At the time, there was zero reason to think there would ever be a physical belt to go with this concept. Less than zero, really. It’s the kind of fun the UFC simply did not believe in. But fans and media got behind the idea and refused to let it go. At a certain point, it went from being half a joke to three-fourths of a rallying cry. All the UFC had to do was say yes and call the belt manufacturer.

So that’s what happened. In November 2019, Diaz and Masvidal fought for the newly-created BMF title, a silver belt that symbolized something different, at least as far as UFC titles go. All the shiny gold belts were supposed to mean the same thing: The owner is the very best in his or her division. The extent to which they actually did mean that was subject to change, but still, everybody understood and accepted the concept.

The BMF title, on the other hand, was not reserved just for the fighter who won all the fights. It was more about a certain style and persona. Like the Ms. Congeniality award, but the exact opposite. Right away it was understood that the people fighting for this new belt might lose a fight here or there, but they always brought a certain crowd-pleasing nastiness to the job. If you were a decision-prone wrestler or even just an overly defensive-minded striker, you might win every other title in the world. But you would not even get a shot at this one.

That was the vibe, anyway. The problem was that the belt itself floated around only intermittently. Masvidal won the first one with a doctor's stoppage of Diaz, then the damn thing got effectively stuffed back into a closet somewhere for the next four years. Eventually the UFC remembered it was in there collecting dust, and oh by the way there was a card coming up in Salt Lake City that still needed a headliner. With no actual title fights available, the BMF belt felt like the perfect fix.

So Justin Gaethje won it with a knockout of Dustin Poirier and the BMF legend was revived. Still, we wondered, was this all it would ever be? A BMF fight every few years, only for the winner’s achievement to be immediately shelved and never discussed again?

Where all that finally changed was UFC 300. And we have both Gaethje and Holloway to thank.

Jeff Bottari via Getty Images

It was the best BMF fight for a couple different reasons. For starters, it was the first time the belt wasn’t being used as a substitute for an actual title fight. Both prior BMF fights were the only title fights on those respective cards, which made it feel a little bit like the UFC’s way of distracting us from a dip in pay-per-view quality. At UFC 300, the BMF belt was a supplement. It bolstered a lineup that featured two other actual UFC title fights.

It also brought together two guys who’d been living the BMF life since before the BMF title had ever been dreamed of. I remember I picked Gaethje to win, owing mostly to the fact that he’d fought his entire UFC career at lightweight while Holloway had sometimes struggled with the power disparity on previous trips up to 155 pounds. When I knew I was about to be proven wrong was late in the first round, hearing the crack of Gaethje’s nose after Holloway landed a spinning kick directly to the center of the man’s face.

But it was really the end of the fight that blew the roof off T-Mobile Arena. Holloway, clearly up on points and cruising to a decision win, pointed to the center of the cage in the closing seconds. Part challenge, part invitation. And, in the circumstances, a seemingly generous offer. Here he was giving Gaethje one last chance to win — a chance he could have easily denied the man with just 10 more seconds of clever footwork. But hey, this was for the BMF title, after all. So why not finish swinging?

Jeff Bottari via Getty Images

That alone — just the fact that he was willing to do it that way, offering a prodigious puncher that final puncher’s chance — would have been enough to make Holloway an icon. But when he landed the shot that planted Gaethje face-down on the mat literally one second before the final horn, the entire arena erupted in a state of ecstatic shock. It was the BMF-iest of all possible endings, and only Holloway could have given it to us.

(If you don’t believe that, just look at the sad wave of canvas-pointing copycats we’ve seen recently. None of them have come close to matching Holloway when it comes to delivering on the promise. All of them have helped prove that it’s harder than it looks. This is the kind of move that should come with a warning: Do not attempt if you are not Max Holloway.)

Holloway later became the first person to successfully defend the BMF title, defeating Poirier (the first person to lose more than one BMF title shot). As he shows up to defend it again opposite Charles Oliveira at UFC 326 on Saturday, it’s a reminder of the extent to which he has taken the whole concept and made it fully real.

Before the BMF title existed, Holloway waited for it. He did more than anyone else to transform it from a novelty token to a genuinely prestigious honor. It’s hard to think of anyone else in the UFC who could have even been capable of such a thing. And it’s harder to imagine how it will persist in quite the same way once the MMA world no longer has Holloway around to point and deliver.