The Empty Frame

In the psychology of champions, belief is never abstract. It is tangible, deliberate, and often quietly uncompromising. At the Surrey home of UFC welterweight contender Ian Machado Garry, that belief is not hidden in affirmations or motivational slogans. It’s framed.

Eagle-eyed followers on social media recently noticed two frames mounted side by side in Garry’s living room. The first contains history: his Cage Warriors world title, the belt that marked his arrival and confirmed potential realised. The second contains nothing at all.

Well…Almost nothing.

The plaque beneath the empty frame reads with unflinching certainty: UFC Welterweight World Champion - Coming Soon…

This is not bravado. It is psychological architecture.

Elite performance psychologists often speak about identity priming - the act of surrounding oneself with cues that reinforce not who you hope to be, but who you already believe yourself to be becoming. Machado Garry’s empty frame is a masterclass in this discipline.

It’s absence with intent. A daily confrontation with the gap between now and destiny.

“I want to see the empty frame every single day,” Machado Garry has said. “To remind me I have a job to do.”

There is something profoundly unglamorous about that sentence. No mysticism. No theatrics. Just work.

The empty frame demands fulfilment.

It removes the comfort of imagination and replaces it with accountability. In doing so, it mirrors the mindset of the greats, those who understand that confidence is not loud, but lived.

Mohammad Ali created his own future using language. His well know “I am” poetry of pressure. Christiano Ronaldo has filled his home with current trophies. His environment constantly reflects the standard he expects of himself.

This is the psychology that separates contenders from champions. Not the ability to visualise victory, but the courage to live alongside its absence without flinching. To let the unfinished space stare back at you daily, unimpressed by excuses.

In Machado Garry’s home, success is not something to be admired retrospectively. It is something that waits patiently to be earned.

The Cage Warriors belt reminds him where he has been. The empty frame reminds him who he is becoming.

Perhaps that is the quiet truth about champions: before the belt is wrapped around the waist, it must already have a place on the wall.