Editor’s Note: This cover story originally appeared in Volume 5 of B.H. Magazine. To get your copy (and access to future issues), subscribe here.
(Photos by Charlie Grant | Fashion by Oliver Reid)
Under the bright lights of Miami’s Kaseya Centre – and mere minutes away from reclaiming the featherweight belt – Alexander Volkanovski experienced something he’d seemingly been impervious to in his last 30 bouts.
Panic.
“The Great” was comfortably up on the scorecards against Diego Lopes at UFC 314 when he lost vision in his left eye. The latter, renowned for his aggressive high-volume striking, had timed a staggering uppercut that was all knuckle on cornea.
Now, the blistering young contender smelled blood in the water.
“I thought my eye had closed up, I didn’t think I was getting it back. I was probably a little rocked as well,” Volkanovski confesses to B.H. “I’ll be honest, my head wanted to go somewhere else, and I had to really pull myself back in. It was a new feeling.”
Ahead of the fifth and final round, the Australian mixed martial artist was panting on the stool and compromised. And suddenly, the moment was taking on a life of its own. Though it was a different fight – and a different man – that brought him here.
Eighteen months prior, it felt like fortune was smiling upon Alexander Volkanovski. Charles Oliveira had withdrawn from his lightweight title rematch against Islam Makhachev, and he’d now headline the main event in another bid to become a two-division champion (Volkanovski failed to do so earlier that year in Perth).
But this expedited second chance was a poisoned chalice. In Abu Dhabi, he was knocked out in the first round. A brutal reminder that, as controversially close as their first encounter might’ve been, no man can step in the same Octagon twice.
There was a rare glimpse of vulnerability in the immediate fallout of the desert showdown. And contrary to the speculation, the culprit behind this grave miscalculation wasn’t your run-of-the-mill hubris. It wasn’t even a briefcase full of cash. It was a full-blown identity crisis.
Alexander Volkanovski’s foundations were crumbling in the deafening silence of peace, and at a rate you don’t typically see until retirement: who was he outside of the cage, and could he live without a fight? Not according to the armchair analysis.
“I just want to say to the UFC, please keep me busy. I don’t do well when I’m not fighting. So please keep me busy,” a stunned Volkanovski pleaded during his UFC 294 post-fight interview.
That evening at the press conference, there was a tearful elaboration: “I needed it. It really is hard for athletes (sorry). I never thought I’d struggle with it, but for some reason when I wasn’t fighting or in camp (f**k, sorry)… It was just doing my head in.”
Four months later, the thesis was confirmed when he eagerly defended his featherweight title against the undefeated Ilia Topuria at UFC 298. Tragically, it proved to be far too soon – another statement knockout defeat, this time in the opening of Round 2 – thus ending the reign he’d established half a decade ago.
At that point, it was universally agreed by allies and adversaries alike that he needed a break.
“We didn’t have enough time to recover [for UFC 298], and I take some responsibility for that,” admits Ash Belcastro, Volkanovski’s longtime friend and manager, as he cleared the catch in his throat.
We’ve just spent five hours in the studio shooting the B.H. cover, and I’m now standing off camera with Belcastro – behind the scenes of a Cooking with Volk episode – as he contemplates the implications of those career-defining losses with the weight of a cherished friendship and a high-profile legacy on his shoulders.
Belcastro serendipitously met Volkanovski “out the front of a 7-Eleven” in Phuket back when the former was still trying to compete as a fighter, and they quickly bonded over a shared passion. Realising he was better at negotiating this profession in a suit than he was in Fairtex gloves, Belcastro soon began managing future UFC middleweight champion Israel Adesanya.
In 2019, Alexander Volkanovski formally entrusted his career to Ash Belcastro. That same year, he claimed the featherweight title from Max Holloway.
“We took UFC 294 with Islam on short notice, and it just didn’t work out our way,” explains Belcastro. “Even today, we’ve had conversations where I’ve said to Volk, ‘I take responsibility.’ And he’s like, ‘Mate, there’s no way you weren’t going to let me fight.’”
“It’s all part of the story, you know?” Volkanovski says with a shrug.
Recounting the harrowing chapter that few athletes survive and even fewer genuinely consider a blessing, he speaks with an almost disarming amount of humility. A far cry from the usual masculine posturing you hear about “being caught on my worst day”, “never letting that happen again”, and other personal mythologies often sold in promo packages.
Before me stood a man who grappled with his own mortality.
“That was a moment in my career where I was so committed to my sport and being champion, it was a responsibility. I didn’t know any different. That’s all I knew for 15 years,” he adds. “When I didn’t have fights locked in, I was actually spending more hours in the gym than if I did [have a fight]. It was tricky, I needed something to work towards.”
As it turns out, the tireless engine that propelled Volkanovski to epic heights was also what unravelled him. This wasn’t just a physical toll. This was a complete obliteration of the self.
If there’s one thing Alexander Volkanovski has never sought, it’s an excuse.
He doesn’t believe in destiny. Nor that sharing a name and Macedonian-Greek heritage with one of history’s greatest conquerors grants him any kind of divine right – so much so that despite the obvious connection, his original fight nickname was actually “The Hulk” up until 2017.
Volkanovski doesn’t even bat an eye at the sheer coincidence that Windang, the suburb where he’s trained his entire career, is named after the Indigenous word for “scene of a fight”. But that’s precisely the key to understanding the man in the Octagon.
Whether it was providing for his family or maintaining a level head, Volkanovski has always competed out of necessity with a capital ‘N’. Why would he place credence in anything else other than his own two hands?
“If I believe in destiny, am I going to try and make something happen? Or am I gonna get complacent thinking, ‘Oh everything’s meant to be’?” Volkanovski ponders aloud.
“Destiny isn’t going to make me a champion. Hard work, my work ethic, my commitment, my discipline – all that will.”
You get the sense that he opted to become one of the world’s most dangerous men with the same blue-collar pragmatism as an everyday punter mulling over concreter or semi-pro rugby player (jobs he’s worked in a past life).
In a previous interview with B.H., he characterised his opponents as trying to “take food off my family’s table.”
“Every decision I make is purely for my family. I will put my body on the line, I’ll put my health on the line. Whatever it takes to make sure I have more opportunities for them,” continues Volkanovski. “This is the career path I chose, so I’m going to make sure I do it properly for them.”
Belcastro recalls the early days when Volkanovski was literally fighting – in his words – paycheque to paycheque with a young family. “The pressure on him back then really shaped who he is today,” he says.
Now a dad to three daughters – Ariana (10), Arlie (8), Reign (2) – with a fourth on the way, you can almost chart Volkanovski’s rise to prominence in direct correlation with his wife Emma’s pregnancies: five title defences, #1 pound-for-pound ranking, global superstardom, and all.
“Being a father, you’re not just fighting for yourself. You’re fighting for so much more,” admits Volkanovski.
“My family, my friends, my team, my supporters, Australia. I fight for all of that before myself. Because all that means more to me than being famous or having money. I only want money for my family.”
With his family’s financial well-being secured and a Hall of Fame-worthy title reign already in the books, there was one question the finely-honed Volkanovski was forced to reckon with on his sabbatical: what is a warrior without a war?
“You’ve heard other fighters ask themselves what they’re going to do after. Because they’re so dedicated to the chase and the thrill, they need something else,” explains Belcastro. “I feel like now, Volk’s definitely well-equipped to move on with his life post-fighting. Fighting doesn’t define him anymore.”
After the consecutive KOs, Volkanovski had the freedom to spend time on himself, on the content, as well as building his brand outside of fighting. “I absolutely loved it,” he says, grinning ear to cauliflowered ear.
Given his natural charisma, the world reciprocated by embracing him as a brand ambassador for the likes of Hublot and Kia; doubly so as a social media personality for his aforementioned side hustle, Cooking with Volk.
What began as a lighthearted way to engage fans has since grown into a platform with nearly a million followers on its dedicated Instagram account, and 652,000 YouTube subscribers (editor’s note: Volkanovski has since launched a standalone YouTube channel for Cooking with Volk which currently counts close to 100,000 subscribers) – many of whom, hilariously enough, are blissfully unaware of his pugilistic exploits.
“I stepped back and learned to be more comfortable with myself,” reveals Volkanovski. “I was comfortable being the fighter, I just wasn’t as comfortable talking to people. I even found it hard to have conversations with old friends.”
A well-worn habit of answering questions about the next fight, and diligently taking on interview after interview like a good company man, rendered him socially stunted.
“I was learning to be me again,” reflects Volkanovski.
“Before, all I had time for was ‘fighter’ and ‘dad’. It was all I cared about – it’s still all I care about – but now, Alex is the fighter and the dad. Alex is them guys.”
The demands of parenthood can reduce your identity to a single role. Add a public-facing career with a rabid fanbase who believe they’re entitled to bloodshed at your expense, and whatever depth you once had risks being flattened entirely. Fulfil the duty or die.
When we resume our conversation at Freestyle MMA in Windang – where Volkonovski adds coach to his resume – he reflects upon the price of greatness over the thudding of bodies against mats.
“I make it sound like a bad thing, the fighter’s identity. It can be hard to balance and understand, but that’s what it takes to be the best. Especially if you have a family,” Volkanovski caveats.
Despite the rate at which he was self-immolating to fuel his meteoric rise, given the chance to relive it again, Volkanovski would not change a single detail.
“I guess now I don’t mind talking about it, because I want people to understand that even if you do feel like you’re losing yourself, you’re going to be OK,” he adds.
“It would’ve been better for me to have more time for myself, for my mental health. But would I be the champion that I was?”
If you were still holding your breath at the opening cliffhanger, rest assured, this story has a happy ending.
Alexander Volkanovski’s vision gradually returned at UFC 314, allowing him to not only secure a unanimous decision victory, but also reclaim the featherweight belt and become a two-time champion at the unprecedented age of 36 (no UFC athlete south of welterweight and over 35 had ever won a title fight).
This cinematic comeback was punctuated by a soundbite that seasoned marketers could only dream of staging. Staring straight down the barrel of the camera, he declared with the conviction of a man reborn from the ashes: Adversity is a privilege.
“It wasn’t planned, it wasn’t scripted. That’s just how I look at things,” explains Volkanovski.
“Even if I didn’t win the world championship, I put myself in there. That is what I mean by a ‘privilege’ – the chance to rebuild yourself.”
The rarity of Alexander Volkanovski’s character lies not just in his unpretentious philosophies, nor the unified duality of professional violence and compassion for his fellow man. It’s his remarkable consistency as a human being.
From phone interviews in his car and breaking bread over long lunches, to gradings at local Brazilian jiu-jitsu academies and whiling away the idle hours at a cover photoshoot – across the better part of a decade, what I can testify is that there isn’t any distinction between the two-time UFC featherweight champion we place on the pedestal and the father who walks among us on grounded soil.
Prince or pauper, he makes equal time for both.
And unlike his notable namesake, Alex – just Alex – harbours no desire to stake a claim upon the known world. An Illawarra farm with decent acreage for his kids to run around in is a kingdom enough.
“Who has time for all that with a family?” Volkanovski smiles knowingly.
The man at work remembers where he comes from, and while it mightn’t have always been the case, he knows exactly where he’s going.
If you’ve enjoyed this cover story interview with Alexander Volkanovski, consider a few more of our favourite stories – direct from the pages of B.H. Magazine:
- Adrien Brody Is Human After All
- Derek Guy Has Entered The Chat
- The True Cost Of Luxury: Confessions Of A Restaurant Critic
- The Story Of ‘Eastern Brown’: Designing The B.H. 911 Carrera GTS Cabriolet
- The Empire Steps Back: Western Diplomacy In The Trump Era
- Cam Green On Mindset, Motivation, & Why He Joined Rado’s Ranks
