The Ultimate Fighting Championship (UFC) frequently presents a paradox that confuses traditional sports fans: excellence in the cage does not always guarantee job security. This tension between sporting meritocracy and commercial viability was recently laid bare following the departure of Russian welterweight Rinat Fakhretdinov, a fighter who completed his contract with a record unblemished by defeat in the Octagon.
The situation attracted the attention of one of the sport`s most dominant figures, current dual-champion Islam Makhachev. Makhachev, known for his stoic demeanor and brutally effective fighting style, offered a straightforward, if harsh, analysis that illuminates the true nature of success in modern MMA. The message is clear: if you merely win, you risk being deemed expendable. If you sell, you are priceless.
The Curious Case of the Undefeated Release
Rinat ‘Gladiator’ Fakhretdinov concluded his recent UFC tenure with a professional record of 24-1-1, maintaining an astonishing 23-fight unbeaten streak. His performance inside the Octagon was highly efficient, culminating in a dominant 54-second knockout at UFC Paris. By all measures of athletic achievement, Fakhretdinov was a rising star poised for ranked competition.
Yet, the contract renewal did not materialize. This decision baffled a large segment of the MMA community, accustomed to the narrative that winning solves all problems. However, the UFC operates on a revenue model defined by pay-per-view buys and marketable narratives, categories where Fakhretdinov apparently fell short.
Makhachev Delivers the Technical Assessment
In an interview, Islam Makhachev provided a clinical breakdown of where his fellow countryman went wrong. Makhachev, who recently secured his second divisional title at UFC 322, understands the financial machinery of the promotion better than most. He distinguished sharply between being a great fighter and being a valuable commercial asset.
“The UFC needs fighters they can sell, who can make money,” Makhachev stated. “Rinat would just go out there and win. The UFC doesn’t need guys who just beat everyone and stay quiet.”
This statement functions as a brutal technical document on the promotion’s hiring criteria. The fundamental requirement is not simply defeating opponents, but rather generating friction, attention, and ultimately, transaction volume. Winning is a prerequisite for credibility, but performance art is the engine of profitability.
The Mandate of Showmanship and Language Acquisition
Makhachev’s counsel extended beyond merely suggesting Fakhretdinov needed to be louder. He provided specific, actionable directives rooted in the global media landscape of the sport:
“Learn English, learn how to sell yourself, learn how to be interesting to the public. They love the show. And because of that, you just need to learn how to put on a show.”
In the highly competitive welterweight division, technical proficiency is commonplace. What separates a contender from a cash cow is the ability to command attention in the pre-fight build-up. Makhachev highlighted the crucial importance of English, the primary language of global MMA promotion and media, serving as the necessary tool for self-marketing and cultivating a narrative that transcends cultural barriers.
The champion, with perhaps a touch of knowing irony, implicitly acknowledges the absurdity of the requirement: a professional cage fighter must essentially operate as a reality TV star to secure long-term employment. The silence of pure competence, as Fakhretdinov demonstrated, is commercially detrimental.
Fakhretdinov’s Confident Pivot
While Makhachev’s comments offered a diagnosis of the UFC’s corporate preference, Fakhretdinov himself appears unfazed by the non-renewal. He quickly issued a response, clarifying that he had not been “cut,” but rather his contract had simply expired and was not renewed—a distinction in terminology that nonetheless results in his status as a free agent.
More importantly, Fakhretdinov claimed that his market value outside the UFC had immediately surged, receiving offers that promised “a very different pay.”
“Nothing terrible happened and offers are pouring in with a very different pay,” Fakhretdinov reported, suggesting his departure was less a failure and more a calculated commercial relocation. “We would have caused problems to some people there, but apparently this also got in someone’s way.”
This development adds another layer to the narrative. If the UFC prioritizes drama over dedication, other organizations—often with less stringent demands for English interviews or social media theatrics—are evidently willing to pay a premium for verified, high-level athletic performance.
Conclusion: The Fighter as a Product
The brief UFC journey of Rinat Fakhretdinov serves as a case study validating Islam Makhachev’s technical assessment of the modern MMA business model. The promotion is an entertainment conglomerate where athletic results are merely the foundation upon which commercial narratives must be constructed. Simply being an elite athlete is insufficient; one must also excel as an engaging, often controversial, media personality.
For aspiring fighters, Makhachev’s reality check is indispensable: mastery of physical combat must be complemented by mastery of the microphone. Failure to adhere to the mandate of `the show` means that even an undefeated record offers little protection against the cold calculus of the bottom line.
