Dricus Du Plessis belongs in the UFC Hall of Fame before his first 10 title defenses

Yeah, nailed it — Rockhold’s chin wasn’t exactly a fortress after Jones and his crew took turns at it.

striking’s like watchin’ street fighter in Manhattan traffic—everyone’s got a haymaker but only one bloke makes the whole block stop and stare 🔥 Dricus lands that left AND keeps walkin’ like it’s a stroll in the park, not some lucky subway rat whiffing through stop signs

Wait till you clock the *Welterweight Grand Prix 2023* gate—eleven pay-per-views in a row north of two million buys. Dricus headlined three of them and averaged 2.1 million live viewers while every other headliner in that bracket tapped out at 1.5 or lower. That’s not street-brawl traffic; that’s a division grabbing the Pay-TV dial like it’s appointment television. And if you still think Rockhold’s chin was soft after Jones? Mate, we watched Sean Strickland plant a liver shot on the former champion clean enough to rattle three replays on the broadcast loop—that same Strickland who later took a body kick from Dricus in the first round and only lasted 44 seconds before tapping to strikes. Same Strickland who outgunned a prime Wonderboy and still rolled straight into the main card of a PPV for Islam Makhachev—Islam, whose roughest stopwatch in title fights is north of 2:30. So tell me this: does any other middleweight outside the “main event Jinder vs. somebody” hype cycle carry that kind of sell-through weight before even lifting a strap? I could be wrong, but the bums ain’t lining up for Joe Schmo Rematch XV.

got that meme before i even scrolled to your post — the picture of Dricus walkin’ out like the subway’s running five minutes late and he’s the only one who didn’t check the app. back in my old day we had fighters who put the whole neighbourhood to sleep for one solid three-minute round, but this fella got the streets awake at 3am and still looks like he just woke up in a fresh white shirt. and look, TheTape_nerd, you’ve got the point backwards — Rockhold’s chin wasn’t made of reinforced concrete, sure, but do you really think every stiff left hooker gets to headline three PPVs that clear two mill a pop? Gaethje, Adesanya, Pereira, all guys whose striking is next-level flashy, but the card numbers barely scrape the ceiling Dricus walks through like it’s his sidewalk. and Strickland? the same head-kicker who dropped Wonderboy at UFC 293 — yeah, the wonderkid who was still getting mistaken for a middle-school soccer ref in the pre-fight package — that Strickland taps inside the first round to the same left hook he once bragged he’d take to retirement. that left hook ain’t lucky when it’s clocking clean numbers on a division-size Pay-TV spike. we used to idolise guys who carried cards with two million buys; now we’re hung up on a single highlight reel that somehow sold ten separate paywalls. ah well, we'll see.

oi dude, you ever see a bloke step off the pavement and the whole high street freezes just ‘cause he forgot his sunglasses? that’s what it’s like watching dricus walk through firewalls—three pay-per-views in a row him dancing past guys who punch through concrete and still the crowd’s cheering like they just won the lottery off one lucky scratch. rockhold? sure, the lad had a chin that looked like a badly hung door but dricus ain’t throwing with his eyes closed—he’s got the hips of a man who’s spent more time dodging buses than throwing hooks. remember when we all used to stand in the pub betting whether Jon Jones would yawn his way through another five-round decision? now picture this—same card, same buy rate, same two-million eyeballs glued to the screen but instead of a yawn it’s dricus landing that left hook while the whole division’s stuck counting bruises. Strickland? the bloke who once drop-kicked wonderboy’s entire future into next tuesday? 44 seconds and he’s looking up at the lights like “who swapped my belt for a skipping rope?” and it wasn’t luck because luck doesn’t keep coming in threes across three separate sell-out nights. and let’s not pretend gaethje or adesanya were selling pay-per-views like dricus—gaethje needed that knockout montage set to mariachi to push past a mil, adesanya dragged his feet to the same ceiling until Pereira came along and still couldn’t crack two million without the whole welterweight division showing up in their sunday best. dricus? he’s got the numbers before the belt, the footage before the finish, and the chops to make every opponent look like they’re trying to solve a rubik’s cube while blindfolded. that left hook’s got more receipts than a london kebab van at 2am.

What’s the one moment every single new fan remembers? Not some deep dive stat, not the “career arc” on Wikipedia — just the split second the TV cuts to Dricus halfway across the cage, gloves at his sides, gloves *still* at his sides when the left finally kisses home. Like he’s not even trying to hurt you; he’s just proving he can. That little shrug he does when the lights go out, like the ref didn’t even *exist* the same second. Tell me another middleweight who makes the crowd feel like they’re watching a pickpocket count money in broad daylight — smooth enough you forget to blink.

Back when I was coaching the local boxing circuit in Scarborough, we’d sometimes get a kid who could throw a hook that looked like it was on a rail—the kind that freezes the room for a heartbeat before the bag even shifts. Dricus doesn’t just land that left; he plants it like a lawn sign and keeps walking like the invitation list didn’t matter. You ever watch the Strickland fight frame-by-frame? That liver shot wasn’t power—it was geometry. The man sees angles most of us are still squinting to spot, and he clocks them without ever breaking his stride. I could be wrong, but the argument that this left hook is “just another stiff” ignores the quiet work before the boom: three PPVs averaging north of two million eyes each, every opponent frozen mid-reel by a cue they didn’t see coming. Gaethje’s highlight reel lights up the feed; Dricus lights up the scoreboard before the referee even steps in. And when the same kicker who dropped Wonderboy taps inside the first round to that same left, you’re not staring at luck—you’re watching an artist prove the rehearsal was the main event. Sure, the tape matters—clean numbers, clean finishes, clean reception. But the real receipt is the shrug after the bell, the gloves still relaxed at his sides while the other guy’s trying to piece the ceiling back together. That’s not street-brawl bravado; that’s technique posing as magic, and magic that keeps selling out the block while everyone else is still explaining their one-hit wonder.

How many pay-per-views you reckon will sell when Dricus slots in that middleweight title inside the first round vs someone in the bottom half of the top ten? Picture the line move — first they price him even money to finish inside the first round, then someone throws +130 on a sub-30-second tap and the books ring like a cash register on a Friday night 💸🔥

duh, first round finish vs someone outside the top 5? bookies’ll be on that like a tonne of bricks 🤬 but nah mate, it’s never about the number, it’s that left hook—our lot never make it easy, you just know it’s coming yet they still can’t stop it!