AUTHOR: Lolly
how to END YOUR PRESENTATION
LIKE MAX HOLLOWAY
Because a walk-off knockout without the knockout is lame.
UFC 300. T-MOBILE ARENA, LAS VEGAS. APRIL 13TH 2024.
JUSTIN GAETHJE VERSUS MAX HOLLOWAY FOR THE BMF TITLE. FOUR MINUTES AND FIFTY SECONDS INTO THE LAST ROUND.
Twenty thousand people on their feet, watching Holloway outwork Gaethje - faster hands, that patented movement, not to mention a spinning back kick in round one that shattered the nose Justin waited years to get fixed.
Max has won this fight. He could just skirt damage for the last few moments, eat the time, move his feet and that BMF belt is going home with him.
I'm sorry - do you even know who max holloway is?
With ten seconds left on the clock, Holloway points to the canvas.
Centre of the Octagon, brother. Let's go out on our swords.
Gaethje, blood-soaked and half-broken, nods. Of course he nods. These two were forged in the violence.
They close the distance at a sickening pace. And as they reach the centre…they keep walking past one another, both taking their nearest exit out of the cage and right out the building.
Okay, that’s not actually how it went. In fact, they both swung like vines in a storm and Holloway sent Gaethje’s face to the canvas with one second remaining.
But when you finish your presentation with a sad sack “any questions?” you’re basically giving your audience the communication equivalent of blue balls.
It’s such a fucking waste. You’ve got this far. All the prep, all the metaphorical spinning back kicks landed every round, softening your audience up for your final flurry.
And then you walk out of the Octagon without throwing the killer punch.
But I’ve seen enough bad presentations now to confidently say no one seems to know what a conclusion is actually for.
Consider this class in session.
listen up, idiot sandwich. you're missing a vital ingredient.
Your presentation sandwich only has one slice of bread. What are we, Dutch?*
You’ve laid down your starchy foundation with the big emotional opener. You’ve sliced logic and squeezed credibility on top. And you’ve only gone and forgotten to slam the second emotional sell down to complete your meal.
When you walk out with credibility as your final key message, it’s like the ref stopping a fight in the final round due to an accidental eye poke. Objectively, we got almost everything we could’ve wished for - five rounds of fun and who can complain at that? But without the conclusion, we’re just not satisfied.
Your big emotional finishing sequence needs to make your audience feel what it would be like to lift this problem off their shoulders. What they could achieve. What would be possible, without these barriers in their way. A brighter future. With you in it.
To do this well, you need to know what they actually want. Not what they said they wanted in the brief. What gets them really excited. What they'd do if money and time and status were no object. What success looks like to them, not to you. What they’re fighting for.
give them the highlight moment.
alright, coach. you're up.
The gut-wrenching, gasp-grabbing KO isn’t even the best bit.
Sharing it on your social media to prove you’re a real one is the whole point, right?
It’s the same with your presentation.
The decision rarely gets made in the room.
But if you can convince the people in the audience, you’re one step closer. But then you have to rely on them being able to persuasively relay your message to the person holding the pen. Giving them a strong conclusion gives them a soundbite they can - and want to - share.
Make it big, bold, shocking, packed with emotion and clear as to all the benefits.
Now, just because Gaethje eating canvas is the bit everyone gets real generous with, it doesn’t mean the rest is a waste of time. Every jab, every combination, every spinning kick - it was all setting up for that moment. The moment was only possible because of the work that came before it.
Your presentation needs to be built backwards from the moment you want your audience to carry out of the door.
In this analogy, you are not the fighter. You’re the coach. You’re there to guide your audience to that championship - step by step, not just waving them off in the general direction of UFC gold.
Your conclusion needs to tell them - in the simplest of terms - what they need to do first. The whole plan will overwhelm them. Baby steps.
You're not asking them to commit to the hundreds of fights it’ll take to reach the top. You're just asking them to step onto the mats.
The people you're pitching to are fighting for something. A target they haven't hit. A problem that's been sitting on their desk for two years. A version of their business they can almost picture but can't quite reach. Your job is to show them how to land that fight-ending blow, get their hands raised and get that champ purse while they’re at it.
If you can do that, they’ll be fighting to work with you.
If you can’t, let me be your coach.
*If only. Unfortunately I will never be classy enough to eat an open sandwich without all the toppings sliding right off onto my shoes.