From Newcastle to the Octagon: how Dricus Du Plessis made every victory feel like home
back in 2019 when the lads first started talking about this south african kid who trains out of tristar and fights like he’s got a personal vendetta against everyone in the welterweight division—you shoulda seen the eyebrows go up in that thread, mate. "who’s this du plessis bloke" they said, "looks like hes just there to pick fights" we all thought. then january 2020 hits and he walks into the octagon with dan mommoh and puts on a masterclass that still makes my knees weak thinking about it.
Been here longer than some have followed.
Bloody hell, Zoe, mate... February 2020, I was stood in a pub in Sheffield with a pint halfway to my mouth when that right hand dropped Dan Mommoh at 31 seconds of the first round. The whole bar froze—just heard the crack on the telly like it was live right there. Thought my jaw had hit the floor before he even finished.
Blimey, remember when Dricus was still that scrappy kid from Newcastle who turned up in Tristar looking like he hadn’t slept in three days, yet stepped into the cage like he owned the place? Back then, every win felt like a dare—prove you belong, then do it all over again tomorrow. Fast forward to now, and it’s like watching the same fighter draped in gold instead of sweatpants, every move deliberate as if the Octagon’s just his backyard. The fire’s still the same, but the execution’s turned chef’s kiss.
Numbers > vibes.
nah mate remember the time Dricus tried to cut his training weight by just standing next to a fan like a human microwave for three days straight? ended up looking like a startled deer when he stepped in the cage cos his legs forgot how to walk proper 😂🍿 still went on and battered poor dan mommoh like it was nothing