What are five executive orders you could make to improve the state of MMA and the UFC right now? What’s the biggest red flag about the GFL so far? And how would you go about crafting the perfect fight coach?

All this and more in this week’s mailbag. To ask a question of your own, hit up @BenFowlkesMMA or @benfowlkes.bsky.social on the trusty apps.

The best part is that it doesn’t feel like work since I’d be watching these events and forming opinions about them even if nobody paid me to do it. I also like that, whatever else we might say about this world of professional fighting, it’s not boring. There’s always something wild or weird or occasionally wonderful happening.

As for the worst part, that’s tricky. There are some bad things that are specific to MMA, and others that are specific to this moment in online media. One of the things that consistently bums me out is how many MMA fans don’t seem to care at all about MMA fighters as people. If you try to shine a light on ways they’re mistreated or exploited, there’s always a vocal contingent ready to get mad at you for even talking about it.

I’ve never understood how you can be into a sport that’s so driven by individuals and their personalities and still be indifferent or worse to the people who actually make the sport possible. Fighters sacrifice a lot, physically and otherwise, to do this. Without them there are no events on TV each Saturday night.

Then there’s the online media piece. It’s gotten harder to get eyes on a story. Social media platforms try to bury anything that links out somewhere else. A lot of websites have responded by making their content more like social media, which is to say pretty shallow and disposable. The big homie Orson Welles once said that journalism was like “writing in sand.” And he died before the internet so he didn’t even know the half of it.

Big picture, I’m just not all that optimistic about the team format. This is not a team sport, at least not in that sense. Trying to squeeze MMA into that shape inevitably means that you end up faking it a bunch, forcing the coaches and fighters to pretend like they’re doing the team thing far more than they probably are. In the end, the fans won’t really care much about that aspect anyway.

I also think that trying to start so big is a great way to lose a lot of money out of the gate. Fighters are talking like they’ve been offered huge money in the GFL. There is no reason to think the company will be bringing in the kind of revenue to support that right away. The IFL also spent a lot of money early on trying to create a big splash, but that gives you a limited runway to build an MMA brand before you need to start showing some kind of money coming back in.

Honestly, skipping team names and mascots might be the smartest thing GFL did with the format. The IFL teams were all hokey stuff like the Razorclaws and Silverbacks, with cartoonish mascots that no one liked (and certainly the merch didn't sell). The Condors one was especially bad, because no one bothered to find out what a condor looked like before naming the team, realizing only too late that it’s basically an even uglier vulture.

So instead of traditional mascot logos and such, I think each team should be forced to take in a stray cat. They don’t get to choose the cat. The cat will choose them. Just leave the door to the gym open, maybe crack open a can of wet food, and see what furry little street urchin shows up. Boom, that’s your mascot now. Give it a name and a home in the gym. That’s who you’re all fighting for.

You also have to start an Instagram account for your team’s cat. I bet in no time the cats will all have more followers than a lot of the fighters.

1. If a fighter’s opponent pulls out less than seven days before the event, that fighter automatically gets his show and win money. That pay is already budgeted for the event. The fighter did his part by training and showing up. Give him the full purse.

2. Any foul that causes a pause to the action — eye poke, fence grab, groin shot, etc. — first gets confirmed via replay, then gets an automatic point deduction for the offending fighter. Take out the referee discretion and the hard warnings. They tell you the rules in the back before the fight. That's your warning.

3. If you sign a fighter to a contract that forces him to wear a uniform and prohibits him from fighting anywhere else, that fighter is now your employee — not an independent contractor. With that comes full health insurance for the entire time the fighter is under contract.

4. You can’t call it an undisputed title if there’s also an interim version floating around in the same division. If Bruce Buffer dares to utter the words on fight night, he gets hit with a tranquilizing blow dart before the end of the sentence.

5. All fighter pay, including bonuses of every kind, are now public. Let the fighters see what others are getting paid. Let everyone see. Transparency can only help those contract negotiations.

This is definitely an interesting test for Shara Magomedov on Saturday, and would be even with absolutely perfect vision. I like his chances to win, but I also can't count out a savvy fighter like "MVP," who's frustrated a lot of opponents in his day.

As for the eye, Michael Bisping got pretty far in the UFC with the use of only one eye (while also exposing the futility of pre-fight medical exams).

But beyond the visual challenges of fighting with one eye, the other thing you have to consider is what happens if you suffer an injury to the good eye? I know that was part of the calculation that convinced Bisping to retire when he did. There are all kinds of ways for your eyes to get damaged in this sport. Having only one working eye might be an inconvenience, but having zero is a life-changer.

I wouldn’t know because I have never in my life had butternut squash soup. Never. My life has never been about butternut squash or the soup derived from it. And brother, I don’t question that decision at all.

Here’s the thing: You can get all those in more or less equal levels at a wide array of gyms. It’s not like the coaches in one place are imparting a striking or grappling wisdom that is wholly unknown in other places. Most gyms, the actual technical instruction comes from an array of sources, and gets refined and reworked in training with lots of different teammates.

The important variables are stuff like gym culture, training philosophy and game planning. That’s where I think the really good coaches set themselves apart. A guy like Eric Nicksick at Xtreme Couture isn’t necessarily teaching takedowns or jabs in a way that’s so different from other places, but he is helping to foster a gym environment that gets people ready to fight.

I also think the best coach is the one who gets the best out of you, personally. And that’s not going to be the same for everybody. You might need to be yelled at, while someone else needs to be lifted up and supported. Some coaches only know one way to do it, and they apply that to anyone who walks through the door. But the good ones can get to know you and figure out what you need. Even if you might not know it yet yourself.