Conor McGregor hasn’t competed professionally since July 2021 after suffering a leg break against Dustin Poirier. Very soon, though, the 35-year-old will return to the octagon. Or so we’re told.
While his opponent, Michael Chandler, is busy training in the gym, McGregor can be found engaged in less-than-athletic pursuits — such as, say, drunkenly riding an ostrich. With a mere six weeks until fight night, one would expect a disciplined UFC training regimen — a regimen notably devoid of booze-fueled escapades. But alas, McGregor seems more inclined to revel in the spotlight, leveraging his fame to peddle whiskey and tout his various investments.
But here’s where things get really interesting: There’s no signed contract for this supposed June bout, a detail conveniently omitted from many reports. Beyond the spectacle lies a deeper narrative, one that resonates particularly strongly in McGregor’s homeland of Ireland. Once hailed as a national hero, McGregor now embodies a different image — that of the drunken caricature, a stereotype that does little to uplift the Irish spirit. As an Irishman myself, I can’t help but lament the tarnishing of McGregor’s once-shining legacy. His recent exploits, marred by boozy antics and nasty altercations, have soured public opinion, transforming adoration into disdain.
Conor McGregor’s character is marked by hubris. At a recent family bash, the ex-UFC champ recently was pictured posing in front of a quartet of Range Rovers. McGregor exudes an aura of unabashed arrogance, his very essence suffused with it. Swagger is not merely an accessory to his being; rather, it is intrinsic, a reflection of his core identity.
This defining trait helps explain the Dublin-born bruiser’s irresistible allure in the United States. American culture has a knack for elevating stars with an unwavering sense of self-assurance, shameless self-promotion, and larger-than-life personae. Whether in entertainment, sports, or politics, flaunters are more beloved in the States. Kim Kardashian is a superstar in the U.S. Back home, she would be laughed out of the room.
In Ireland, a starkly different ethos reigns. Here, humility and modesty are prized virtues, while excessive pride earns a quick slap on the wrist. Rooted in Ireland’s history of communal bonds, acts of arrogance are seen as undermining the collective good, damaging the very fabric that holds society together. Ireland’s storytelling tradition, sprinkled with humor, acts as a firewall, showcasing the idiocy of pride and emphasizing the value of modesty.
In this light, the scrutiny faced by another Irish icon, Bono of U2 fame, makes perfect sense. Despite his massive success, Bono’s perceived sense of superiority and holier-than-thou attitude have rubbed his countrymen (and women) the wrong way, eclipsing his philanthropic deeds. This has been the case for many years.
Similarly, McGregor’s brash persona and ballooning ego have dampened the glow of his achievements in mixed martial arts. His meteoric rise to fame has been fueled by a relentless pursuit of attention, often at the expense of sportsmanship and dignity. From hurling insults at opponents to assaulting members of the public, McGregor’s antics have transcended mere showmanship, veering dangerously close to outright thuggery. Moreover, his public persona is riddled with contradictions. Despite presenting himself as a champion of Irish pride and heritage and often draping himself in the country’s flag, his actions demonstrate a shallow understanding of his own culture. McGregor’s caricatured displays of Irishness serve only to perpetuate harmful stereotypes and commodify a rich and complex heritage for personal gain. The fighter’s journey serves as a stark reminder of the fleeting nature of stardom and riches. While his swagger might keep Americans hooked, back home in Ireland, it’s met with a knowing smirk — a testament to a culture that, to this very day, values humility above all.
In the pages of Irish mythology and folklore, hubris takes center stage, embodied in the tragic exploits of legends like Cu Chulainn and Fionn mac Cumhaill. Their tales, rife with fatal refusals to heed warnings and reckless quests for wisdom, serve as wake-up calls against the dangers of unchecked ego and hastiness. Literary giants such as J.M. Synge and W.B. Yeats also tango with hubris and humility in their works, offering deep insights into the human psyche. Through the struggles of their characters with pride and folly, they shed light on the perils of excessive self-regard and the redemptive power of humility.
If he’s got a minute in between squaring off with rappers and using ostriches as Ubers, McGregor might want to crack open the works of these literary giants.
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John Mac Ghlionn is an essayist and regularly contributes to Newsweek and the New York Post. Follow him on X, @ghlionn