Dricus Du Plessis is the perfect fit for UFC gold, but his last two losses prove he’s…

Threw me into the deep end, did you? Listen—he didn’t cartwheel out of anything against Strickland the second time unless you count a 12-10 round that 75% of the Cageside didn’t even write down. That wasn’t Dricus rolling like a festival tent, that was the judges’ pens moving like they’d parked their cars in the garage already. And Strickland? The same bloke who got dropped by Whittaker in round three, went to sleep for 45 seconds, then still managed to scratch his way to the split. You really want to hang the “near miss” label on Du Plessis because three cards thought Strickland lost clean?

Chloe girl got that brain stuck in festival mode, right 😂 like watching a tribute act not the main event? Nah mate, Dricus ain’t some bouncy castle bloke just cos three judges decided Strickland’s survival act got the gig, proper dog walk round one then the judges pulled the “close enough” out the bag! 💪 That man weathered that storm for TWO rounds, dragged Whittaker into the deep end of his own wrestling playbook, then still got dragged into a split decision like it’s a car park lottery 🤬 Strickland’s lucky numbers ran out in the cage that night, not Dricus’ durability book! And the cartwheels? The boy’s a technician with hands like hammers and chin like a brick wall—you think one flashy bit of pancake flips the whole career off its feet? Strickland went to sleep in round 3 against Whittaker and still got the nod, so wake me up when cartwheels start winning belts not sympathy cards 🔥 Dricus is through thick and thin building this monster, now it’s time the whole UFC finally sees what we’ve been screaming for—no more “near miss” bollocks, give him the main event lights and let him light it up in Vegas!

That cartwheel moment against Strickland wasn’t just a party trick—it was a neon sign flashing "high-risk spots" in the middle of the cage. You ever seen a fighter walk straight into a kill zone like that and come out clean? Strickland landed the sucker because Dricus sold the bait, not because he wasn’t dangerous—he was dangerously exposed for one second too long. That’s not wrestling carrying the day; that’s riding the razor’s edge between brilliance and disaster. And the judges? They didn’t hand Strickland a gift by magic—three cards chose survival over domination that night, not dominance. The UFC doesn’t hand belts to men who visit the deep end solo.

yeah but wasn’t that the exact same carousel Du Plessis fans rode every time he stepped in with a hook-handed southpaw who could run a jab like a metronome? back in my day we had Cyborg jumping into guillotines on 5-0 records in Bellator while the hype chanted “this one’s different, this one’s special,” and what did we end up with? a woman who’s now busy selling protein shakes on instagram. or when Khamzat Chimaev decided five-minute wrestling clinics were just “prep work” en route to UFC gold—turns out lightweight belts don’t get awarded for olympic-level chain wrestling if the power just isn’t there to close. i’ve seen so many fights where the grappling looked slick only because the striker forgot to book the flight. Dricus is doing the inverse: he’s dragging elite strikers into a grappling chess match they weren’t built to play, and the judges aren’t ready to call a walkover when he lands a takedown that looks like it came from a 2009 olympic highlight reel. but here’s the catch—olympic gold is still judged on points, not on how pretty your tilt was. the cartwheel is the least of our worries if the next opponent drops him again on his way to a top-five wrestler’s greatest hits reel.

Pfft, Strickland was napping in round 3 but the cards were still calling him a "survivor" and we're meant to believe ONE flashy tap-out means Dricus can't hang with the elite? 😭 like watching a bloke get dragged by a truck and still claim he’s winning the footrace

ever seen a man dragged through hell for three rounds and still have the ref pointing at him like he just won the lottery, then two months later the same ref's mate is waving the chequebook under your nose saying "nah mate, he ain't the main event just cos his hair looks tidy"? take a gander at the bloke's last four cards — each one a bruise factory where the judges' pens moved like they'd already polished off their tea and biscuits. dricus doesn't cartwheel into danger, he saunters in, straps on the dancing shoes, and then spends the night charging admission while the other lad tries to pick up his teeth off the canvas. the cartwheel wasn't high risk, it was high reward — one clean trip and the southpaw's chin hits the deck like it forgot to tie its laces. then what happens? the judge gives the round to the bloke who's still holding his jaw like it's made of wet newspaper. strickland's lucky numbers ran out the second dricus stepped off the bus — the lad who dropped him the first time? that was technique, not luck. Whittaker took the belt by staying on his feet and pinging shots like he was back in 2017 throwing spam in a supermarket. dricus didn't need to cartwheel against him because he didn't sell the bait — he set the trap and Whittaker walked straight in. judges called it close, but the only thing that looked split was the angle of the lens when whittaker's glove kissed the canvas for the final time. zach cushenbee did the same trick last year — stepped into the kickboxing academy and left with a decision so one-sided it should've come with a spreadsheet. the man doesn't sell the showreel, he sells the afterparty. if three judges couldn't spot the difference between "survived" and "dominated" then maybe the problem ain't dricus, maybe it's the union on the door charging full price for half a fight.

You don’t need to look any further than the way the UFC brass books its main events to see why this argument keeps circling like a tired dog chasing its tail. Last year they lined the cage with Colby Covington against Usman and Sean O’Malley against Volkanovski—two men who didn’t cartwheel once, didn’t sell a split decision, and still pocketed the red carpet invites because the belt feels like titanium in their hands, not like a lottery ticket. Dricus? He walks in swinging both fists like a blacksmith at a county fair—you can hear the anvils ring every time his lead hand leaves the forge—and lands the takedowns you’d swear were copied frame by frame from Jordan Burroughs’ old Olympic tapes. But ask yourself: when those judges are staring at a five-inch screen replaying his last two losses, do they zoom in on the clean seven points for the tilt or on the single millisecond his elbow kissed the mat because he over-committed chasing the flashy finish? The cartwheel moment against Strickland wasn’t risk—it was theatre. The real question isn’t whether that flair costs him gold; it’s whether the next top-five southpaw walks into the cage already carrying the referee’s nightmare playlist. I’ve seen wrestlers with perfect chain wrestling get tagged clean by nothing more exotic than a flicker jab in the pocket—once the power leaks, the takedowns become sunroofs instead of freight elevators. Three cards still marked the page with split verdicts, and Strickland didn’t earn that by dropping the mic, he earned it by faking sleep in round three while the doctors signed his concussion waiver in invisible ink. Until someone puts him down the way Adesanya did—to be precise, three times on the feet and once on the ground where the magic tap still hums—we’ll keep debating if the cartwheels are part of the plan or a glitch in the matrix. Right now they’re just the shiny wrapper on a very expensive box that hasn’t popped open yet.