It’s good to be Diego Lopes.
On a rainy night in late December, Lopes was smiling almost bashfully when reflecting on the year he’d had. Alongside his manager Jason House and a small posse of friends and fellow fighters, he took an end seat downstairs at the Convivium Osteria in Brooklyn, ordered the beef tagliatelle, and talked about his good fortune.
“This year, I’ve just been enjoying it,” he said, sipping on a glass of red wine. “It’s the best year of my career. I went from not being ranked to being ranked, to, you know, taking the risk against Dan Ige, then the Sphere [fight with Brian Ortega], and now the bigger rewards. I’m enjoying every moment of it.”
The dimples are noticeable when he’s happy, which is damn near all the time. The famous sweep of bangs almost always behaves for him, and when they don’t he shakes his head and glory is restored. On this night he’s wearing a beige, wool-lined rancher’s coat, and lamenting, in pretty good English, the fact that he forgot to bring his cowboy hat.
That’s because Diego is in New York to see his friend (and fan) Zach Bryan play the Barclays Center, a quick stop in the Big Apple for a little fun because … why not? Nothing is holding Diego back. He’s not married and doesn’t have any kids to get home to. Since weighing in as the backup fighter to Ilia Topuria’s fight with Max Holloway in Abu Dhabi in October, he’s been to Paris, Edmonton, Macau and Korea, and back to Vegas. Wherever the wind takes him, he goes. Tomorrow he’ll fly to Manaus, Brazil, where he grew up, to spend the holidays with family there.
“I have to stop in Miami, then Panama, then Brazil,” he says cheerfully, as if the idea of two layovers is actually pretty fun. “So not so bad!”
And at 30 years old, Diego is right in the thick of his prime. He went a perfect 3-0 in 2024, and is in the coveted position as a top featherweight contender. He just bought a new house in Las Vegas so he can stay closer to the action. He already has residences in his native Brazil and in his adopted home country of Mexico, where his family is sprinkled. The money is starting to show up. So is the recognition.
Life is good.
“Jason and Zach are friends,” he says of his manager and the country star, relayed from Spanish to English by a buddy at the table. “They’ve been through a lot of shows, but now they’re more kind of really good friends.”
At the table, where the decorated grappling ace and soon-to-be UFC fighter Kody Steele is part of the crew, House is sitting at the center. He has arranged for a little over a dozen of his fighters and friends to attend the Bryan show as VIPs. One of them, a 6-0 New Jersey-based prospect named Christian McAuley, is being courted to join the Iridium roster.
“It’s our first date,” House jokes.
House met Bryan during a set at Ray’s Bar in the city a few years back, when Bryan was playing to a room of no more than 40 souls. He’s been friends with him ever since, as Bryan loves MMA. He pays attention to everything from “Contender Series” to “The Ultimate Fighter” to the pay-per-views. With Bryan closing out his “Quittin’ Time” tour in Brooklyn, House made the trip east to be here for it, along with a dozen or so of his MMA faithful.
“At tomorrow night’s show, Bruce Buffer is announcing Zach as he comes out,” House says.
A month earlier, just across the East River at UFC 309 inside Madison Square Garden, Bryan’s music intersected with MMA in a most peculiar way. With his ex-girlfriend Brianna LaPaglia sitting in attendance, Bryan’s song “Something in the Orange” came on between fights, which felt a little like sabotage to the woman better known as Brianna “Chickenfry.” She turned her thumb down at the choice. If that weren’t enough, no less than three of House’s fighters walked out to Bryan songs that night, and one of them — David Onama — even shouted out Bryan in his post-fight speech. Onama later admitted he didn’t even know who Zach Bryan was, admitting that House had put him up to it.
House loves himself some Zach Bryan, and Zach Bryan loves himself some House.
Anyway, ever since Bryan broke up with LaPaglia there’s been a lot of talk of Bryan’s emotional mistreatment (and subsequent NDAs), especially from Brianna “Chickenfry’s” podcast partner and Barstool owner, Dave Portnoy. It’s been a messy situation for those who are moved by tabloid drama, which turns out is a lot of people.
But you know who’s blissfully unaware of all that?
Diego Lopes.
“That was very good food,” he says through his translator. “I’m excited to see the show.”
He’s not yet household famous, not by a long shot. But a few people recognize Diego at the arena. One kid, who said he was a jiu-jitsu practitioner, had plenty to say to both him and Kody Steele as they waited for their VIP badges. Too much, really. He extended his welcome to the point that Diego started to blush a little, shifting uncomfortably yet still smiling ear-to-ear. His English is good, but when it’s hitting him rapid fire he still looks around for help. Diego is too polite to turn a cold shoulder.
The fight that they want the most, other than a crack at Topuria, is Volkanovski. That’s the fight that House mentions, and when it’s mentioned everyone gets a hungry look. They believe they can beat Volk. It’s a foregone conclusion. It’s the catapult fight to launch Lopes toward Topuria, and it’s the happiest minefield they’ve ever contemplated. But they know it’s circumstantial. That matchmaking depends on Topuria’s next move, whether he goes up to 155 pounds or stays at featherweight to defend.
You can see the dimples show up again.
“Maybe we can fight in Australia,” Diego says, the idea of another far-off land exciting him as much as the matchup.
They know the more realistic option is Yair Rodriguez in Mexico City. That fight, which is the one that got made less than a month later and is now set for March 29, promises to be a banger. When Rodriguez accidentally poked Jeremy Stephens in the eye during their main event in Mexico City back in 2019, it was bedlam. Beers rained down from the nosebleeds along with other debris, while Michael Bisping ducked under the commentary table for cover. What happens when you stick Rodriguez in there against Lopes in the heart of Mexico?
The pride of Chihuahua going straight at the heart of Puebla?
Lopes’ eyes widen at the thought.
“That’s what I train for,” Diego says. “When I clock into that cage I want to be the best fighter, whether it’s a minute long, or if it goes another round, I want everyone to be entertained. I want to put on a show.”
Lopes isn’t afraid to give himself over to a show, either. He can bop along to live music just as unabashed as the surrounding teenage girls. When Bryan hits the stage and launches into his song “Overtime,” Diego is the happiest man in Brooklyn. He hugs his friend and pumps a fist. He sings along to “Pink Skies” a little later on, or at least his lips are moving to the words. It’s so loud nobody can hear anything other than the music. During “Heading South,” he hugs his benefactor, Jason House. It was House who courted him in Abu Dhabi years ago, the guy who wouldn’t take no for an answer when it came to managing him. The lights come on and drop down again. Bryan circles from one microphone to the next, as he has mics set up facing every direction in the arena.
“It’s smart when you think about it, because you don’t have to close off any of the sections,” House says of Bryan’s stage configuration.
Diego is lost in the fish tank. Tonight the focus is on Bryan, who is sweating and telling Brooklyn, again and again, how much he loves them. Diego is hopping to the music. It’s hard to see the devil inside of such a carefree, happy-go-lucky person. The guy who took out Gavin Tucker with an armbar so vicious it looked like he wanted to take the limb home. The word “warrior” is used so much in fighting that it loses all meaning, until you see Diego, rocking the same new wave hybrid mullet/mohawk that he’s worn since he was 8 years old. Somehow Lopes looks the part. He ratchets up the intensity and goes at people with abandon. Poor Pat Sabatini didn’t last but 90 seconds against him. He shot for a takedown, got tossed aside, and next thing you know he’s out on his feet, crashing into the links on the fence and eating half-a-dozen right hands. Sodiq Yusuff got treated exactly the same last April.
He made it all of 89 seconds.
Yet the real adventures began in June, when Lopes was slated to fight Brian Ortega. That would be the true measure to see if he was a contender. It still feels like a piece of fiction some seven months removed. We all saw it with our own eyes. Ortega had to drop out the day of the fight, and Dan Ige — who was getting a massage when the call came in — made his way to T-Mobile Arena to step in. Never had we seen a fight cobbled together at the eleventh hour like that. And never would such a thing have seemed possible. It was an OG move by Ige, but it was an all-time risk for Diego.
But he handled it. He didn’t finish Ige that night, but he dominated big portions of the fight and won a clear decision.
Then he showed up at the Sphere for his fight with Ortega with an almost cult-like vibe in September. Now people were talking about what a demon he was, just how unrelenting his pressure was, and how furious his attack. Lopes passed the litmus test with flying colors, sweeping the scorecards against Ortega while nearly doubling him in strikes. If there wasn’t a Diego Lopes bandwagon before, there is now. You wouldn’t know any of that by seeing him give himself over to the music. A lover was in Brooklyn, not a fighter.
When the band went backstage at the end of the set, a couple of them stopped to hug or shake Lopes’ hand. Then they reemerged for the encore — a rolling 20-minute version of Bryan’s song “Revival” — and Diego swayed along to the chorus like a lifelong fan.
House came from backstage and handed out Bryan swag to his crew. Diego threw the shirt over his shoulder and smiled.
“What a show,” he said.
At night’s end, a security guard passed by Diego outside of Barclays and stopped in his tracks. He stepped backward and did a double take. “Wait a minute, hold up, I recognize you,” he said. “What’s your profession?”
Diego’s dimples reappeared. He smiled but didn’t say a word. He was content to let the guard guess.
“Are you a fighter or something?” the guard said.
The guard was piecing it together. He put his fists up and said, “You’re like a UFC fighter, aren’t you?”
Diego didn’t let on, but the embarrassed smile said it all. He didn’t even nod. He just shook the security man’s hand, and that was all the confirmation needed. Tomorrow he’ll be in Brazil. Then he’ll be in California, with a stop in Stillwater, Oklahoma. A quick appearance at UFC 311 in Inglewood, then it’s off to train for Rodriguez in Mexico. The new year picks up where the old one left off.
It’s good to be Diego Lopes.
