UFC 268: Acknowledging Greatness (Without Qualifiers)

What Kamaru Usman is doing is incredible, and doesn't have to be measured against anyone else's achievements

No one wants to just acknowledge greatness anymore; it always has to be talked about in terms of all-time rankings or measured against the achievements of someone else.

As soon as a standout performance happens, we’re trying to figure out where it stands amongst the best performances of the year, or how that athlete stacks up against the greats that came before them, arguing over the makeup of the pantheon instead of appreciating the moment.

“Where does that performance stack up amongst the list of all-time great efforts on a Saturday night in the UFC APEX by a featherweight that is 30 or younger with no more than seven UFC appearances under their belt?”

We hustle by the moments in order to talk about them in historical context without giving them the attention they merit in the here and now.

That’s what it feels like people are doing with Kamaru Usman.

The reigning welterweight champion enters his UFC 268 rematch with Colby Covington sporting a 14-0 mark inside the Octagon, having successfully defended his title four times, including twice already this year. He is 19-1 overall and continuing to get better each time out, having shown impressive poise and resolve in his win over Gilbert Burns in February before flashing his improved power when he baptized Jorge Masvidal in their second encounter this past April.

He is a sublime talent and what he is doing is incredible, full stop.

Unfortunately, not enough people are comfortable leaving it at that.

Instead, discussions about Usman and his achievements invariably turn into “compare and contrast” discussions pitting him against previous divisional great Georges St-Pierre, leading to unanswerable questions about which of the two is the greatest welterweight of all time and where each fits in the hierarchy of top talents to ever grace the Octagon?

I’ve done it.

I’ve done it with Usman this year, in fact, but I won’t be doing it any more; not with the welterweight champion or anyone else.

I’ll still talk about things in historical context, like the fact that a win over Covington on Saturday night will leave Usman one shy of equaling Anderson Silva’s record for most consecutive victories inside the Octagon, or how a victory would put him in a tie for seventh on the list of the most successful title defences in UFC history, alongside Matt Hughes, Joanna Jedrzejczyk, Tito Ortiz, Amanda Nunes, and Valentina Shevchenko, one back of Ronda Rousey and two shy of Jose Aldo because those things help illustrate that Usman is in the midst of putting together a special career, one that gets more and more impressive with each appearance.

But I have no more interest in arguing whether he or St-Pierre is the best welterweight of all time, because it’s a subjective question with no real definitive answer, and I’d much rather celebrate the greatness of both than get into another cyclical discussion about which one should be stationed higher than the other in someone’s personal list of all-time greats.

We do this constantly and I no longer want to participate because all too often, it takes away from the moments themselves and shifts conversations away from appreciating the athletes and what they just accomplished in order to stoke the fires of another social media debate or prep another opinion piece about why what that individual has done is impressive, but not as impressive as this other person or these other people.

What value is there in immediately searching for ways to detract from an incredible performance or career achievement? What is the purpose of instantly wanting to find ways to diminish a brilliant effort inside the Octagon? What good does it do the athlete or the sport to search for ways to search for ways to reduce one competitors talents in order to make someone else appear greater?

Think about how many times we talk about these men and women in terms of “… but who did they really beat?” or “… but they weren't that good to begin with,” as if stepping into the Octagon and beating anyone is easy, never mind putting together a three-, four-, or five-fight winning streak.

Only 27 people in UFC history have won eight consecutive bouts inside the Octagon or more.

I don’t care who you’re fighting, what division you’re in, or how you’re getting it done — you win eight straight fights or more in the UFC, you have my full attention. Sadly, that’s not the case for everyone, as some would rather find ways to “yeah, but…” the fact that Arnold Allen is 8-0 inside the Octagon than celebrate the talented British featherweight.

And winning championship gold is insanely challenging, regardless of which division or era we’re talking about, which is why there have only been 126 belts handed out, both undisputed and interim combined, in UFC history. That may sound like a lot, but it really isn’t when you consider there are now a dozen divisions, and only 38 of those belts belong to athletes competing in the seven divisions added to the UFC since the WEC merger in the fall of 2010.

And that’s belts, not champions, because there have only been 100 individuals to wear gold in the UFC, yet instead of celebrating each and every one of those men and women individual, our primary focus has become trying to put them in some kind of hierarchical order and re-ranking them every time one of them competes.

Kamaru Usman is a special talent and a tremendous champion.

Nothing more than that needs to be said.