The UFC’s Oversaturation Problem: A Fan’s Lament

By Emil Champlin

As a diehard UFC fan, I’ve been glued to the octagon for over a decade—through the glory days of Anderson Silva’s untouchable reign, the chaos of Conor McGregor’s rise, and the technical brilliance of fighters like Georges St-Pierre. Back then, every fight night felt like an event. You’d circle the date on your calendar, stock up on snacks, and brace yourself for a card stacked with killers. But lately? I’m struggling to muster that same excitement. The UFC has morphed into a relentless content machine, churning out events faster than a journeyman can tap to a guillotine, and it’s diluting the sport I love. Too many fights, too many cards, and not enough quality—it’s a problem we can’t ignore.

Let’s rewind a bit. In the early 2010s, the UFC was putting on around 30-35 events a year. Each one felt like a curated showcase, a mix of title fights, grudge matches, and prospects on the cusp of stardom. You had time to digest the storylines, argue with your buddies about who’d win, and let the anticipation build. Fast forward to 2025, and we’re drowning in nearly 50 events annually—sometimes two in a single week between Fight Nights, PPVs, and whatever Contender Series spin-off they’re cooking up. The octagon’s become a conveyor belt, and the result? A lot of fights that feel like filler instead of fireworks.

Take a look at the last couple of years. How many main events have genuinely gotten your blood pumping? Sure, we’ve had some bangers—Islam Makhachev vs. Dustin Poirier at UFC 302 was a masterclass, and Sean O’Malley’s knockout of Aljamain Sterling still lives rent-free in my head. But for every one of those, we’ve slogged through a dozen forgettable cards headlined by mismatched contenders or aging vets clinging to relevance. UFC 307’s Pereira vs. Rountree? Decent, but hardly the stuff of legend. Fight Night: Royval vs. Taira? I barely remember who won. The sheer volume means we’re getting more C-tier matchups than A-list showdowns, and it’s wearing me out.

The oversaturation isn’t just about the number of events—it’s about what it’s doing to the roster. Back in the day, top fighters competed two, maybe three times a year, and every bout was a statement. Now, the UFC’s pushing guys to stay active, and the talent pool’s stretched thin. Prospects get rushed into main events before they’re ready, while veterans stick around past their primes because the machine needs bodies. Remember when Frankie Edgar was a lightweight god? Now we’re watching him limp through decisions against mid-tier guys because the UFC can’t stop booking. And don’t get me started on the injuries—fighters pulling out last-minute has become a weekly ritual, leaving us with watered-down replacements.

The counterargument’s obvious: more fights mean more chances for breakout moments, more exposure for new talent. Fair point. I’ll never forget Justin Gaethje’s war with Michael Chandler at UFC 268—that’s the kind of chaos only a deep schedule can deliver. But those moments are the exception, not the rule. For every Gaethje-Chandler, we get three cards where the most exciting thing is the buffer replaying a low blow in slow-mo. The UFC’s banking on quantity over quality, and us fans are the ones paying the price—both in PPV fees and in hours wasted on lackluster nights.

What’s the fix? Dial it back. Cut the event count to 35-40 a year and focus on building cards that matter. Give fighters time to recover, train, and hype their matchups. Let the big names clash when they’re at their peak, not when they’re contractually obligated. I’d rather wait three months for a stacked PPV than slog through another Apex Fight Night where half the crowd’s asleep by the co-main. The UFC’s not hurting for cash—2024 was their most profitable year yet—so why not prioritize legacy over churn?

I’m not saying the sport’s dead. We’ve still got phenoms like Ilia Topuria and Khamzat Chimaev who can carry the torch. But as a fan who’s seen the UFC at its best, I can’t shake the feeling that we’re stuck in a rut. Too many events have turned a once-unmissable spectacle into a slog of mediocrity. The octagon used to be a proving ground for the elite—now it’s just a stage that never stops spinning. I’ll keep watching, because I’m too deep in this addiction to quit, but damn, I miss the days when every fight night felt like a title shot for my soul.

Emil Champlin is a  freelance writer for Veritas Expositae

You can reach him at emil.champlin@veritasexpositae.com