“To bear trials with a calm mind robs misfortune of its strength and burden.”
Seneca the Younger
Less than a week ago, the news broke: Max Rohskopf, one of the brightest prospects in North America, had signed with the UFC. It flew under the radar, as prospect signings often do—not everyone has a nation behind him, a legion of fanatics clamoring to bring attention to The One. Yet for those in the know, elation spread like wildfire; a blue-chip showcase lies in wait.
Researching the short career of Rohskopf leads one to an alluring surface: five submission wins in as many professional fights; at just twenty-five years old, time is his ally; vetted by a credible organization in Titan FC; brought up by the storied Xtreme Couture gym. Drawn in, one labors to dig deeper, hoping to strike a rich repository of promise—to find “the real thing.” Given the lack of tape, Max was kind enough to be the lead foreman of his own life’s excavation.
Rohskopf comes and escaped from a small town in Ohio called Killbuck; he hasn’t looked back since. His early life was rife with conflict and self-doubt and a desire to be greater than all the lives he had seen rise and fall in his humble surroundings. The initiative to liberate himself, to be more was shaped from childhood: “I grew up in a house where there was a lot of domestic violence. I grew up fighting my brothers; I grew up with my dad drinking and shit, trying to fight us, trying to beat up my mom.” The acorn doesn’t fall far from the tree: initially, Max mimicked what he suffered through with his family. “Where I come from, everyone talks about fighting but they really have no idea. No one’s ever trained anything except wrestling; nobody’s done any boxing or jiu jitsu. And I think that just kind of stuck with me. I always wanted to be the baddest dude in my town.”
The violent upbringing led to a tumultuous school life, though that turned out to be a blessing: “At twelve, thirteen years old, I got in trouble in the principal’s office. He said, ‘We gotta do something to keep you out of trouble. You’ve got to join the middle school wrestling team.”
The principal thought wrestling would help Max channel his negative energy—all the pent-up frustration, the fear he lived with at home—into something good. He was right.
I loved it from day one. Not too long thereafter, I quit every other sport I was playing and just focused on wrestling.
I was that weird kid at school who wanted to be an athlete. I was begging my friends to come train at eight in the morning. For a lot of kids at that age, it’s not cool to work hard, it’s not cool to not be out partying and drinking and smoking pot.
His introduction to wrestling brought its own set of challenges:
One of my favorite memories in high school: my freshman year, I had a wrestle-off and beat a senior out for the starting spot and I was still one of the worst kids on the team. Out of the ten starters, I was probably the ninth or tenth best. I remember everyone picking on me, making fun of me, telling me I suck and it doesn’t matter how hard I work, I still won’t be very good. And then the end of the year rolls around and one other guy and I qualify for the State tournament. That was when I got a little bit of my attitude. Who sucks now, motherfuckers?
That attitude, that little chip on my shoulder, and a little bit of cockiness has carried me to where I’m at now.
A testy team environment is natural enough—competitive spirit breeds the best athletes. Max was able to thrive in that environment, but obstacles continued to pile up up: he fractured a vertebrate his junior year but chose to keep competing; he finished third in the State championship. In his senior year, considered one of the early favorites, he broke his hand right before the State tournament but, again, chose to wrestle—again, he finished third. Impressive results overall, especially in the state of Ohio, but still a bitter pill to swallow for Max, who had dreams of attending Ohio State University: “I wanted to go to Ohio State just because where I’m from, we bleed scarlet and grey. But I didn’t have the high school grades [or competitive results]—a lot of schools didn’t even want to talk to me.”
I liken his situation to UFC standout Cody Garbrandt, a fellow Ohioan with an exceptional athletic background whose prospects of attending Ohio State were dashed. As it turns out, connections in small towns run deep:
[Cody] actually didn’t even wrestle after his freshman year. He was the State champ his freshman year. We transferred my little brother, who’s going to be fighting here in a couple of years, to Claymont where Cody Garbrandt went to school. My brother is going to be wrestling D1 at Lockhaven this year.
Max radiates with pride as he talks about his brother. He mentions his brother also trains BJJ in the wrestling offseason. He even makes it to Vegas now and then for a family reunion and some stellar training sessions; he plans to fight as well. It’s fortunate that the younger brother has a clear vision, but what was Max’s outlook after he faced the reality of Ohio State being a non-starter? Things looked grim, but he wasn’t fated to be left by the wayside: North Carolina State University took a chance and made an offer that Max couldn’t refuse.
All my friends, my dad, everyone I was around would drink and party too much so NC State’s pitch was, “We want to bring in guys who are just here to train and live a clean lifestyle,” and that’s really what sold it to me.
I almost didn’t have the grades. They ended up getting me in on a special admittance so I was getting watched by the school non-stop.
Max enjoyed a successful wrestling career at 165 lbs. with the Wolfpack: a two-time NCAA Qualifier (2015, 2016) and an ACC Champion (2016) is no small feat—though the alpha is still Bellator great Darrion Caldwell, who secured a NCAA Championship for his Pack. And though NC State’s promise—a clean lifestyle—bore fruit, Max realized that isn’t what he was looking for after all.
After a couple of years, I realized I’d rather be around dudes who got a little bit of an edge—they party but they also show up to work hard—than the dudes that fuckin’ put their glasses up and go, “I go to church and I worked hard!” Like, shut up, dawg.
I have a different philosophy than when I was younger. I was very much on the straight and narrow, but I got a little bit of an edge to me [now].
For Max, developing that edge led him into the world of mixed martial arts—a natural progression for many collegiate wrestlers. He was defined by folk and funk on the mats: “I made my college career on top. And I do think that’s the best skillset to have for fighting.” That style has helped him transition seamlessly into the most unmissable discipline in MMA: Brazilian Jiu Jitsu.
Currently a purple belt under Robert Drysdale, Rohskopf has participated in several professional BJJ events since committing to the hurt business. His earliest competition was the Eddie Bravo Invitational where he contended with Thiago Moises. After minutes of a stalemate with Max as the constant aggressor, Moises found an an armbar with beautiful hip leverage as Max tried rolling out of his closed guard. Reflecting on the bout, Max claims, “At that point, I was doing Jiu Jitsu but I pretty much had a pure wrestling mindset. Me now would sub that guy that went against Moises in thirty seconds.” The catalyst for this transformation was his experience during the 2019 Shugyo, a no-time-limit, submission-only tournament featuring some of the best Jiu Jitsu players in the world.
Max competed against Ethan Crelinsten, a then-brown belt under Firas Zahabi who also extensively trained with the Danaher Death Squad, representing Renzo Gracie BJJ. Securing first place at the 2018 and 2019 North American ADCC Trials, “Ethan Crelinsten was supposed to walk through that tournament; he was supposed to destroy everyone,” Rohskopf recalls. In a turn of events that surprised everyone except Max, he put Crelinsten to sleep with a D’Arce choke after leaping past his guard.
He also rolled against Josh Bacallao, a Gracie-Barra black belt and professor, showing some slick moves: the classic wrestler leg drag, an explosive bridge to escape a high-elbow guillotine, defending from the bottom by threatening a kneebar and getting the reversal, culminating in another win by D’Arce choke.
He lost to Keith Krikorian, an ADCC veteran who took advantage of Max’s “submission over position” design, giving him a taste of his own medicine by applying a D’Arce to get the tap. He then lost to Nathan Orchard—a master of 10th Planet Jiu Jitsu and the creator of the Dead Orchard submission—by Triangle, trapped and exhausted following a sequence of beautiful transitions from Orchard. As painful as defeat was, Max was deeply grateful for the experience:
[Since] Shugyo, I’ve adjusted my style a little. In that tournament, I was going against guys that were a lot better than me in submission-only tournaments. My best bet was to jump on their necks, front headlock, and choke ‘em. At that time, I wasn’t very versatile with my guard and leglocks. I was good, but not as good—these are world-class guys. I tried to avoid those positions as much as possible against these guys because 100% they were better than me there.
Since that tournament, I’ve worked on a lot of stuff, specifically with leglocks and my guard. Next time you see me do a submission-only tournament, I’m not gonna look like a wrestler.
[Shugyo] taught me to be a more well-rounded Jiu Jitsu player. I was just a wrestler with a good back attack, scrambled well, good front headlock, but that was just me adapting my wrestling for Jiu Jitsu. That tournament showed me there’s another level of the game that I needed to get better at and in the last year, I’ve done that.
Max plans to continue participating on the BJJ circuit, noting a desire to compete in ADCC (“I think they should shorten it to six minutes [a round] for more action”) and wistfully recalls a missed opportunity to compete on the Submission Underground:
I tried to get on [SUG 13]. [ADCC champ] Vinny Magalhães actually asked me to replace him… For whatever reason, maybe because I’m a purple belt, it never happened so I was really disappointed. I really wanted to be on that team because Chael Sonnen was the coach; he’s my favorite MMA personality ever.
Despite not making it to SUG, it’s clear what an elite of the BJJ world thinks of Max’s grappling skills by extending him the invite. And though Max sees potential for glory in BJJ, MMA is his highest priority for the foreseeable future. Thus far, he’s undefeated through a combined six amateur and professional fights. He walked me through a few of the fights, detailing his ascent to top-prospect status.
On his first and only amateur fight (2017) vs. Steve Hoffman:
Honestly, we weren’t sure he was going to show up. He finally arrived about twenty minutes before the fight was scheduled. I took him down and ground and pounded him until he literally could not open his eyes and they stopped the fight.
On his first professional fight (2018) vs. Vince Arredondo, fighting out of the MMA Lab: “He actually passed away last year in a car accident. I know a lot of people from the Lab and they’re really good people so I was sorry to hear that. Rest in peace.” He chose not to detail this fight; he won via rear naked choke in the second round.
In his second pro fight (2019), Rohskopf battled Omar Hussein, a Team Alpha Male product; third (2019) was Jonathon Morris; Zach Zane was the fourth (2019), representing Black House MMA; the fifth (2020) was his Titan FC debut against Paulo Silva, an MMA Masters black belt in BJJ. Every fight went the same way: a submission loss for the opponent, a gain in momentum for Max. The standout moments were a takedown feint into overhand knockdown against Hussein (reminiscent of Khabib Nurmagomedov vs. Conor McGregor in the second round of their fight) and a modified guillotine submission against Silva. The latter impressed Mike Brown, the famed American Top Team head coach and former WEC champion, who proclaimed, “This is somebody to keep an eye on.”
I ask how it felt to be going through guys from such reputable gyms, all of whom place a heavy emphasis on grappling and enlist some of the most experienced coaches in the game today:
[The wins] didn’t [make me] feel anything. I knew it was supposed to happen. I’ve been training to fight for a long time and I have a lot of sparring rounds with a lot of really good guys—guys who have fought for UFC belts, guys who are ranked now. I recognize the fight’s not the same as sparring but I know what my ceiling is and what I’m capable of doing, and I think I’ve shown a bit of that so far. I don’t think these guys realize—I’ve fought the Alpha Male guy (Hussein) and the guy from Black House (Zach Zane) and these guys train with really good dudes who are in the UFC right now. I’m sure they have a lot of confidence because they do pretty well in their own gyms, but there are certain things I’m good at that I know for a fact these guys have never felt before.
This weekend, hundreds of thousands will have an eye on Rohskopf as he enters the world’s greatest proving ground. In this author’s eyes, Max has the ability to shine—his front headlock system is one of the most advanced in MMA today even though he’s only five professional fights into an auspicious career. A purple belt in the gi under Robert Drysdale—who received his black belt from Leonardo Vieira, co-founder of the legendary Checkmat BJJ academy—with black belt skills, Rohskopf has been putting the work in for years to impress the fans and the UFC brass. He cast back to his loss against Thiago Moises in a combat Jiu Jitsu (open-palm strikes allowed) setting to explain his approach towards MMA now:
I was already doing Jiu Jitsu before EBI, but ever since that match, I’ve immersed myself in what Jiu Jitsu really is. The match showed me I can’t just take someone down, sit in their guard, and try to punch ‘em. That showed me I’m gonna get subbed if I’m just a dumbass wrestler: they’re gonna set something up. I don’t get put in closed guard anymore, I pass on my feet, I transition from the head to the arms to the legs all at once. I’m not a wrestler that’s going to sit in top half [guard] or guard and try to ground-and-pound. I don’t think that’s efficient, I think that’s old school; it’s not gonna work in fighting anymore. Luckily, I learned that in a Jiu Jitsu match.
So what’s he doing differently that might rock the boat when it comes to the MMA meta? There’s the beautiful front headlock system, of course, and the way he seizes mat returns and scrambles through it. He adds, “I’ve practiced a lot of pulling side control off shots. You’ll see it.” He also prefers back rides and control with only one hook in, leaving his other leg out for mobility and to neutralize the opponent’s leg, hip, or arm, whichever is resisting. He jovially claims, “I hit shit that’s weird a lot. We joke about it in the gym all the time.” I circled back to the subject of head control, noting the reverse bulldog grip he used against Hussein. He acknowledges that that’s one of many adjustments he’ll make when he must. No one will ever question is versatility.
When it comes to his trump card, his submission wrestling, he practices thousands of complex motions in order to live by a simple philosophy: “I take what people give me. I force positions, but submissions need to come easy.”
Everyone is aware of his bread and butter, but what about the other half of the game: the striking? He expounds with a somewhat cavalier demeanor:
When I first started fighting, because I was a wrestler, everyone’s like, “You need to put your hands up to your forehead and walk forward and take him down.” That just doesn’t feel right to me. Footwork is what’s come most natural to me.
I take the most pride in making tough guys look stupid. If I can get an submission or if I can dance around ‘em and pepper ‘em with the jab, that’s cooler to me than dick-measuring in the middle of the cage.
There’s going to come a time, I’m sure, where I’m going to have to show everyone how tough I am—maybe it’s this Saturday—but I do like to be as slick as I possibly can.
His approach to improving his standup is as meticulous as it is for his grappling. Even in his last fight, a resounding success in the eyes of most, Max was unhappy with glaring holes he saw in his own game:
I was going for that side kick, but I was pushing off my back leg so I was making it a lunge forward but it needs to be a little more defensive when my leg comes up because when when I lunge forward, my hands are still down. [Silva] tried to counter; luckily, I moved my head back and he just hit my chest. But I don’t need to be doing shit like that.
As a creative grappler, it follows that Max holds viewpoints on striking that stray from classical schools of thought. For instance, he believes hand positioning is overrated for his game:
I think the most important defense for MMA is footwork and head movement. That’s what I invest the most time in. As long as I can keep that good chest-to-chest distance where I’m longer than you, I’m going to be able to read what you’re going to do and not take damage. And that works well for me because as long as it’s at least even on the feet, I’m gonna beat you on the ground.
But make no mistake—adaptability is key.
You have to be able to do everything and be a master at a few things. But if you have one style or one way of doing things, you’re going to get read a lot. Someone’s gonna have your number. I can put my hands up and move forward. I’ll show that, too, when the time comes and I have a matchup where I gotta do it.
You might not even see the exact same striking style that you saw in my last fight.
Training with the best in various disciplines (he’s even gone rounds with boxing stars Devin Haney and Caleb Plant at City Boxing to up his game) must mean putting in a lot of ruthless rounds, I suggest. Max denies that that’s essential to becoming the best: “I’ve seen a lot of guys in the gym lose their chins before they even get a chance to show they’re good fighters. Cross my heart, I’ve never been knocked out, never even had a headache.” He does admit, however, that wear-and-tear from training and sparring blows injuries sustained from fighting out of the water. He’s unsure if there’s a way to hone his craft without some sacrifice to health.
When it comes to MMA, Max credits most of his success to two men: Robert Drysdale and Robert Follis. After college, he lacked direction—a common affliction amongst the green. His old Jiu Jitsu coach, Sean Spangler, a black belt under Drysdale, guided him in the best way he knew how: he called up Drysdale and Follis, who were working together at the time, and talked up a young kid who he assured them would be worth their time. Rohskopf decided there was nothing to lose and drove to Vegas; serendipitously, he arrived during wrestling practice. He recalls:
I’m kinda throwing some good guys around and [Follis] is like, ‘Oh shit, okay!’ I ended up talking to him and [XTC Head Coach] Dennis Davis and they talked me into moving to Vegas. I packed up [all of] my shit and drove out here as soon as I got back to North Carolina.
Since then, Max Rohskopf has been a steadfast presence in Vegas, guided by the tutelage of two legends of the sport he sorely wants to dominate. He’s put into practice what he learned in the past, ruminating on how he balances life these days: “It took me until I was halfway done with college to realize that. Too much stress and too much discipline is a bad thing. I’m disciplined enough so I need to let loose; for me, it’s video games and donuts.”
Balance is key, but isn’t Sin City the wrong place to live when that’s your goal?
It’s easy for me [to not get sucked into that stuff]. I know some people who can’t live here; they gamble all their money away, they’re going to strip clubs every night. That’s not even what I like to do. I have a couple of buddies here, Butch Bradley and Adam Hunter, who do comedy shows here all the time so I go see them.
Honestly, I’m so tired from training. I train like I’m in camp every day. That’s what I like to do. I don’t have the energy to be going out at night. As soon as I get home from training and teaching, I wanna sit on my ass and play Call of Duty and eat some food.
Imitating the Spartan mindset, I suggest. Total discipline. He gently refutes me:
I have been told I’m disciplined before but to me it’s not discipline—it’s just what I choose to do. I don’t gotta make myself do any of this.
If you told me I have to life my life the way I’m living it right now for the rest of my life, give me a little extra money and I could live like this for the rest of my life. I’m super happy and this is exactly what I want to be doing.
A true Spartan, then—born and bred for war—with a matching lifestyle to boot. Max agrees and opens up about the reality of trying to make it as a fighter. He conveys a deep gratitude toward his longtime coach and mentor, Robert Drysdale, whose school Max now represents in MMA and BJJ following their departure from Xtreme Couture.
When I first started out, I had a little bit of money saved up so I was able to pay rent when I was living with Follis. I was training full-time and just saving the rest of my money, making sure I could eat. I started teaching kid’s classes at Xtreme Couture and doing privates on and off. Now, I teach and train full-time at Drysdale’s [gym, Zenith MMA].
I’ve bounced around, I haven’t lived at one place for more than a few months. I’ve stayed on friends’ couches. I had a good friend and his mom come out here to train Jiu Jitsu for a few months and I stayed with them for basically free so that helped me out a lot. Now I’m living in Robert Drysdale’s pool house. I’ve got two roommates, we’ve got two bunk beds. We’re just three upcoming fighters trying to live off of nothing. We’re all just training full-time. I’ve got about $88 in my bank account.
[COVID-19) scared the shit out of me, I thought I was going to have to move back in with my mom, go back to Ohio. If it weren’t for Robert, I probably would’ve had to. He’s done so much for me; it’s going to take me a long time to pay him back.
The transition from Xtreme Couture to Zenith MMA is a big change. Lost are opportunities to train with top dogs like Francis Ngannou, Punahele Soriano, and Dan Ige. Zenith’s stable includes Bubba Jenkins as well as Kevin and Keith Lee on a cross-training basis. As it happens, Max was Kevin’s main sparring partner for the Tony Ferguson camp; the team thought he gave a great look. Regarding Kevin, Max is at a high point of effusion: “He’s one of my best friends I’ve had here. He’s always had good insight on a lot of things and I’m happy to have him around.”
For pure Jiu Jitsu, Felipe Andrew, a dominant player in the scene, is an everyday partner. “I have to guillotine motherfuckers like that every day,” Rohskopf cracks. Small wonder his confidence seems unshakeable once he steps into the cage.
Max speaks to the advantages a smaller gym offers, the key difference being additional time to work on specific things to fine-tune techniques of interest. In a larger gym, it’s harder to get everyone on the same page; different folks care about different things. It makes it more difficult to focus during drills and rolls and spars on specific concerns a fighter wants to address, which is remedied by having a closer-knit team. Rohskopf also praises his striking coach, Dewey Cooper, for the knowledge he’s bestowed to his pupils:
Number one is fundamentals. Jabs, avoiding unnecessary combos. Every day, you’re working on your power, your hips, your hook, your jab, your cross, your inside and outside leg kicks. We’re working on the power and speed of all those. It’s basics and fundamentals over and over again. That’s what wins you fights in every [combat] sport in the world. He does a great job of focusing on that because he was an athlete and he knows what it takes to win.
As classical as Cooper’s system is, he isn’t one to teach without a little give:
He’ll adapt [to my style], but there’s certain rules. If I’m keeping the distance really well and I’m not in range where I can get hit, I can bring my hand down. But if I’m standing right in front of the guy, my hands have gotta be up. So that’s not negotiable, he reminds me to remain sharp in that way. But he definitely does adapt.
I wonder if Max would ever travel around, getting different looks at different gyms. His answer is a firm negative. “I don’t want people to know what I’m doing,” he plainly states.
Closing out the topic of gyms, I ask Max what his walk-around weight is: 170 lbs. is the reply. Does he have any notions of dropping down to featherweight? “I’m lean, bro,” he says, shaking his head.
We tackle the point that brought us together: his UFC debut is only a few days away. Does he feel nervous? Excited? Perhaps even daunted? Unsurprisingly, he remains stoic: “I’m sure there’s going to come a time when I want to celebrate, but not right now. People are gonna see this on Saturday: it’s gonna look weird because I seem overly calm while I’m in a fight.”
I remark on the difficulty of Hubbard as a matchup. Even though he’s a relatively unknown fighter himself, he was the LFA champ and that commands respect. Max, without skipping a beat, agrees: “He’s a tough fight. He’s seasoned, has a good gas tank and the ADCC world champ (Davi Ramos) couldn’t submit him. He almost beat [Mark O.] Madsen (an Olympic silver medalist in Freestyle Wrestling).” Bewildered by the those telling him it would be an easy matchup, he shrugs off the oddsmakers giving him respect as the favorite. “I’ve been around the sport long enough to know that shit doesn’t matter,” he says, waving off any outside influences. But he certainly doesn’t plan on letting this opportunity slip by: “If I go out and do what I know I can do, that’s going to send me in the right direction as far as publicity and getting fans and setting up my next fight and setting myself up for the long-term [with the company].”
Max plans to diverge from the limitations shown by Ramos and Madsen through his striking.
A lot of the things I do, I know the cons and the pros to it and I’m constantly thinking about that during the fight. For basics, if I’m circling to the left, I know they’re probably going to try to throw the right hand because every coach in the country teaches that. So now I can make them do what I know they’re going to do.
And after he wins, what’s the plan? Who’s he calling out? “Thiago Moises. 100%,” he states. Different sport or not, that’s one loss he’s itching to get back.
I round off my time with Max with some general questions on his approach to fighting and his specific goals within the UFC. Regarding the fight, I ask him, with respect to his 100% finish rate, if he believes he’ll take the safer route if he’s already ahead. “Probably not,” he responds. “If I can 10-8 a guy every round, there’s no reason I shouldn’t be able to finish him.” Given that, does he see himself as more like the old Justin Gaethje: entertainment over all else?
No, not at all. I expect to finish, but I’m patient. It’s like my coach Dewey Cooper always tells my partners when I’m sparring: “Don’t let him snake-charm you.” I’ll act like I’m just trying to point you and then I’ll set something up big and go.
I’m not really satisfied with just winning rounds. I’m sure I’ll win a decision at some point, but that’s not my goal. My goal is to get a belt and as much money in the bank as I possibly can; that means getting submissions and fight of the nights. But winning will always be the first priority.
I broach the subject of PED usage in the UFC, asking Max if he believes juicing is still prevalent among fighters.
I think a vast majority of [fighters] have taken shit before getting into the USADA pool. That’s bullshit because you keep a lot of that strength. If you’re juicing for years before getting into the UFC and then [cycle off], you’re going to have strength that normal people don’t have. They’re still freaks.
I see guys and I look at their debut fights and they’re short, skinny and unathletic, and now they’re jackedzilla.
Does it discourage him to see people cheating? The answer is an emphatic rejection: “If [anyone’s] taking something, well, I still have a better gas tank than you, motherfucker!”
So how does one level the playing field without juicing themselves? In Rohskopf’s eyes, “Skill, work, and IQ” beat shortcuts. You can outfox a juicehead every day of the week. But illicit physical advantages are still dangerous.
Striking, yes, [IQ trumps whatever physical advantages people might have,] but it can be different with grappling. But if that freak isn’t very good, then it’s not very hard. Obviously if the skill’s the same, then whoever’s juicing is going to 100% be better, but if you can up your skill level past everyone else, then it doesn’t really matter. At the end of the day, the top five guys in the world are all going to be up there and the difference is going to be in millimeters.
I ask Max why he chose to forge a path in BJJ. He readily admits he didn’t believe he had the skills to make the Olympic wrestling team, but he also speaks to his love for Jiu Jitsu’s proximity to real-world altercations:
Jiu Jitsu’s more real to me. I love wrestling, but a guy can grab my ankles and I’m sitting on my butt and they call that a takedown, but if we’re on the street then I’m around your neck and you’re going out cold, son!
The rules are geared towards an actual fight. You can roll across your back if that means you’re gonna get on top. You wanna escape bottom, you wanna get reversals. That’s why Jiu Jitsu makes sense to me.
What about when it comes to watching tape on future opponents? “I leave it to my coaches,” reveals Rohskopf. “I don’t watch tape because I feel what’s happening and I like to read and see what they’re doing. In all of my fights, I’m moving in, I’m moving out, I’m circling, I like to see what they’re doing.” For him, the name of the game is reading and reacting; adjusting. “Focus on what they’re giving me and flow.”
On where his drive comes from and who he’s doing this for:
Myself and everyone who’s ever had my back—whether it’s helping with a relationship or school or mental breakdowns because I’ve had a lot of ‘em or going through hard times. I’m also fighting for everyone who hasn’t been there for me, who’s tried to put me down or did me wrong, for no other reason than I think success is the best “Fuck you.”
On dealing with mental and emotional breakdowns:
When I was wrestling in college, I wasn’t on scholarship and I’ve been poor my whole life. I felt slighted. I wasn’t a college person so I was kind of depressed. I was never gonna get a degree and [work a normal job]. I was super unsatisfied but everyone around me was telling me I should be satisfied. It was contradicting and very hard on me. And then growing up, I didn’t have the best home life. And I almost went to jail one time because I beat someone up and I thought I wouldn’t be able to go to college. Shit like that made me feel like my life was over which is kind of funny; looking back, it was nowhere close to over.
The big fight’s this weekend—how’s the family handling it?
I haven’t really talked to my dad since I was 12. I talked to him one time between now and then. It was before I went off to college and I was like, ‘Hey, if you wanna be in my life, you gotta stop drinking and you gotta stop being an asshole to my mom. It took him, like, five hours, [he] couldn’t do it, so I was like, “Alright, dude, peace.” I was a twelve-year-old kid with the biggest balls in the world telling a 6’4, 240 lb. dad to fuck off.
With his mother, it’s a much different story:
My mom [and I] had a rocky relationship growing up because I was a shithead. I’ve always expected more out of me and everyone around me, including her. I was always pushing her to do more, be better and stuff. Just the way her life has played out, I think she’s been through a hard things, too, like with my dad. She was in a hard place and I was too young to realize and see that. But our relationship is really good now—love her to death. Wish she could be out here for my fight but there’s not gonna be any crowd or anything. But it’s good now, we talk [often].
To wrap up, I asked Max a few broad questions on the landscape of the UFC. Who does he think is the best grappler today?
Khabib. I’m always shooting for the stars. I think about it every day: That’s the guy I’m training to beat right now. Everything that I do is around beating the best guy in the world, hence why I spend most of my time against the cage and with working submissions.”
I do think he’s preying on guys that aren’t great grapplers. I want to see what happens when someone doesn’t turn their back and try to stand up. Also someone who invites the ground or someone with a good front headlock.
We just might know a guy.
With our time coming to an end, I ask Max what his dream above all other dreams is. He looks off into the distance, seeing something I could not, and voices with full sincerity:
“I don’t need a lot of money. I just want to say I was the best in the world for one day and I’ll be happy.”