AI slop makes me more bullish on Combat Sports. Here's why.

We’re living through a technological inflection point. Every week, it feels like AI gets better at something that used to belong exclusively to people: composing songs, digital art, writing essays, generating virtual worlds. The line between creator and creation is blurring.

And while this progress is exhilarating, it also creates a quiet, existential tension: If machines can do everything, what’s left for us to be?

As more of what we consume becomes artificial - optimized for engagement, tuned for virality, stripped of imperfection—the things that are unmistakably human will rise in value. Because authenticity is about imperfection. It’s about effort, struggle, and pain. It’s about the pursuit, not just the outcome.

The Purest Form of Storytelling

Sports entertainment, at its best, is a mirror for the human condition:

To be the best in the world at something.

To make sacrifices that nobody else will.

To dream irrationally big and pursue that dream relentlessly.

Watching the physicality of sport and the skill honed by professional athletes is a part of sports entertainment, but I believe that the real value of the industry lies more in the storylines than the sport itself.

How will Michael Jordan lead his team to a sixth championship - is it even possible?

How did this Japanese baseball pitcher become so good at everything - are we witnessing a new GOAT?

Conor McGregor talked so much trash to his opponent - is he really that much better or is he overconfident?

Our eyes are glued because of the mystery. This idea that these larger-than-life superstars are living in the same world and the same timeline as you - and nobody knows what will happen next. The script isn't predetermined by a clever LLM. It's written, in real time, by the athletes.

Combat sports, in particular, are pure narrative distilled to essence: two people, tjhe same dream, colliding under the lights. One walks away triumphant; one doesn’t. And in that moment, stripped of every pretense, we glimpse the full spectrum of what it means to be human: fear, courage, ego, pride, hope, despair.

What It Means To Be Human

To fight is to be human. Not necessarily in the physical sense - but in the act of striving toward something beyond yourself.

Being human means delaying gratification for an ideal, a belief, an abstract notion that might never materialize. It’s the willingness to endure pain today for the chance at something better tomorrow. That’s what separates monkey from man.

In the octagon, this is literal: a fighter’s journey is a study in delayed gratification—years of unseen work, relentless repetition, and sacrifice for a fleeting shot at greatness.

And when they fight, the audience isn’t just watching two athletes. They’re watching every human emotion laid bare: fear, doubt, resilience, belief.

AI can mimic words, faces, even emotions. But it can’t feel the stakes of a fight. It can’t understand the quiet dread of a walkout, the stillness before the bell rings, the heartbreak of defeat.

Those moments remind us of who we are.

Why the UFC Matters More Than Ever

That’s why I believe the UFC - and live sports entertainment more broadly - are positioned for a cultural resurgence in an AI-saturated world.

Because when everything else feels synthetic, competition at the highest level will always be real. It’s unfiltered, unscripted, unpredictable. It doesn’t care about conversion metrics or viewership. It only cares about truth - revealed through pain, through courage, and through the simple act of trying to win when someone else is trying to stop you.

As AI reshapes entertainment, I think audiences will turn back toward experiences that make them feel something real. They’ll crave the sweat, the chaos, the humanity.

And in that search for something authentic, the live sports industry will stand as one of the few experiences that can’t be automated - the ultimate expression of what it means to be alive.