More superstars, more problems? Why Conor McGregor's demands could be a UFC game-changer

Conor McGregor will return to the UFC, he says, but not as just another fighter.

“I’m a promoter,” the UFC lightweight champion said recently, vowing not to step in the octagon again unless he’s “part owner of the whole setup.”

We saw this coming, didn’t we? The instant he inked a deal to fight Floyd Mayweather, and the minute the proceeds from what’s likely to be one of the biggest pay-per-view fights of all time began flooding into his bank account, it was inevitable that McGregor’s whole deal was going to change.

How do you go back to making a few million per fight in your $40,000 Reebok kit after you’ve boxed Mayweather for the “Money Belt”? How do you keep them down on the farm once they’ve had their name on the canvas at T-Mobile Arena?

The issue for the UFC is that now McGregor doesn’t need to fight. Unless he’s on the Mike Tyson personal finance program (it ain’t cheap feeding those pet tigers), he doesn’t need to do anything in exchange for money ever again.

So if he wants to own a piece of the company, if he wants to co-promote his own fights, all he has to do is ask. If the UFC says no, fine, he can take an extended vacation. He can let the UFC figure out how to hit the million-pay-per-view buy mark without his help. He can tell the UFC’s new owners that they just paid billions to acquire a company whose sales pitch was based in a large part on the revenue he brought in.

You know, back when he still had to fight for a living.

It’s a special kind of problem for the UFC. The reason McGregor is so valuable to the company is because he’s a rare kind of superstar. But because he’s a superstar, he no longer needs to rent out his value to the UFC if he decides he doesn’t like the going rate.

To some extent, this is a built-in problem for fight promoters. When your business is convincing people to get punched in the face for money (most of which will become yours, and some of which you will give back them), it can be a problem if they ever have so much cash that they no longer need yours.

It’s a situation UFC President Dana White highlighted when discussing issues with the boxing business model several years ago.

“Essentially what you get in the end, is you get two multimillionaires who step in the ring and do everything they can to avoid a fight, so they can win – just barely win – to get to the next multimillion-dollar fight, that we pay for,” White said. “… You know what happens when you get $37 million and you’re a fighter? (mimes running away) ‘I don’t want to get punched in the face!’”

But imagine being a UFC fighter and hearing this theory espoused by your multimillionaire boss. The whole reason you’re doing all this – taking the physical punishment, making the day-to-day sacrifices, drastically increasing your risks of brain damage down the road – is because you hope to hit it big. But the guys in suits don’t want you to hit it too big, because then maybe you won’t throw your body back into the wood-chipper quite so willingly.

And you have to admit, there’s something to that logic. Look at MMA’s history with superstar fighters. From Brock Lesnar to Ronda Rousey – even, to some extent, the prodigal son Georges St-Pierre – the biggest names don’t tend to stick around all that reliably.

For the UFC, creating a star is the first step to losing one. That makes sense once you consider the brutal, unforgiving nature of life as a professional cage fighter.

But there’s the rub for the UFC. While it’s probably a headache to have fighters whose demands increase along with their fame, what are you left with without them?

McGregor’s a good example. The last couple years he’s been a godsend for the UFC. In 2015, he headlined two events that sold a combined 2.025 million buys, according to the UFC’s own investor documents. He reportedly added more than 4 million buys in three events the following year, making him the biggest PPV star in company history.

Which is, of course, how we got here. It was because he was such a star that he managed to finagle a blockbuster boxing match while still under UFC contract. And because of the money and the fame that came from that, he can now write his own ticket with the UFC.

Whatever he wants, the UFC’s in no position to refuse. An ownership stake in the company, his name in big bold letters right next to the UFC’s? Fine. His pick of opponents, dates, venues? Absolutely. He could demand that White personally bring a rug from his house and present it to McGregor as a gift.

If he meets any resistance, no problem. He can afford to do nothing.

But the UFC still relies on PPV sales for a big chunk of its overall revenue, and it relies on star-power to sell those PPVs. With other stars either pursuing other careers or else sabotaging their chances at this one, it’s not like there are a ton of McGregor substitutes at the moment.

Even if there were, who’s to say the UFC wouldn’t face similar demands from them? And if you end up giving the No. 1 pay-per-draw a piece of the company, how long before No. 2 demands the same thing? What happens if, for those occasional superstars, owning the UFC becomes the new leaving the UFC?

Maybe all it takes is for them to see it happen once in order to know that it’s possible. And McGregor, as you might have noticed, seems to have a thing for breaking new ground.

For more on the UFC’s upcoming schedule, check out the UFC Rumors section of the site.