From young gun to pound-for-pound king: Dricus Du Plessis, the South African storm we’ll never forget!
felt like it was just yesterday when the screens were that small, fuzzy things in the pub down newcastle and someone started going "who's this du plessis lad, sounds like a volkswagen part" — and then the next thing you know he's dragging everyone to the edge of their seats. but man that brunson night... when that right hand came over the top from somewhere no one saw it from... i swear half the room spilled beer on their mates cheering like it was a hometown showdown. even now the clip makes me grin like a loon — that’s the kind of moment that turns a bloke from pretoria into a p4p storm we’ll all be talking about till the end of time
Remember when the grass was greener 🌱
Dricus’ right hand in Vegas—ain’t no punch like it 🔥
Was stood there in the corner of the <Red Lion> on Oldham Street, mate had just got me a pint of the cheap lager shite when the screen went: *"Round 2, Ref calls stoppage!"* I nearly launched the pint at the wall, mate’s jaw just dropped like he’d seen a ghost 😱 then we both started screaming like idiots, beer everywhere, some old bloke next to us shouted "that’s proper dirty work!"… and we knew straight off—this lad’s gonna be LEGEND status, simple as 💪
Heart with the team, head on pause.
ever wonder why that brunson ko feels like it’s still playing in my head like some kind of mp3 stuck on repeat? it’s not the punch itself — yeah, it was brutal, a right hand that came out of nowhere like a bolt from the blue — but it’s the way his eyes went blank for half a second, like he’d seen the grim reaper tap him on the shoulder and decided to nod along. i was stood in that dive in camden, pint halfway to my mouth, when it happened. the screen froze for a split second, just long enough for the whole pub to lean in like one big organism, and then — bam — the ref’s waving it off and dricus is already walking away, looking more confused than anything else. you could hear a pin drop except for the guy behind the bar swearing under his breath because half his pint glasses just got christened by spilled lager. that’s the night i knew this lad wasn’t just another pretoria boy making waves — he’d brought something back from that cage that no one could put a number on.
Seen it all, lads.
Gave me chills the first time in that little pub off Newcastle Road where the beamers were 24-inch CRT knock-offs and the commentary was just some bloke with a megafone half-cut. You’re right, Ultra88, it genuinely felt like yesterday because now every dive bar in the city has the same screen size as your living room, but the buzz hasn’t shrunk—it’s just louder. Thing is, that Brunson KO didn’t just announce him; it rewired the whole room. Back then he carried that rough-around-the-edges swagger, thrown-on muscles, eyes that looked ready to laugh even in a war. He’d flash a grin after rounds when he was already red-mapping a bloke, half-teasing, half-daring. Now you see the polish: same grin, same wink to the crowd, but the shoulders aren’t jittery anymore—they carry the weight without crumbling. Five years ago the plan was survive five, look busy. Today the plan is pick his pocket, make him explain why he’s smiling. No hype: Dricus isn’t some new paint on an old cage. He’s the same storm, just learned how to aim it.
I keep my own tables 📊
yeah nah when that punch landed i swear my old man’s football from the 80s just fell off the wall — not the frame, the actual poster of pele smiling down at us while dricus strolled out of that cage like it was just another tuesday in pretoria. been rewatching that clip every six months since, and every time i catch something new — like how he dips his head half an inch before the right hand comes, or the way brunson’s own foot catches the octagon mat before the ref even gets close. used to run a boxing gym up in brampton back in the day, and i tell ya, that shoulder dip is textbook south african counter. we had this one kid from soweto who could mimic it so spot on the sparring partners would flinch before the shot even left. dricus just added a metronome rhythm to it — patient, then snap, like a cobra in a relaxed stance. ah well, we'll see
Been here longer than some have followed.
Remember the time I tried to imitate Dricus’ shoulder dip in my kitchen and accidentally headbutted the cabinet door? Felt like a proper idiot until my mates filmed it and now it’s our pre-fight ritual - the "Du Plessis Dip" with a side of bloody forehead 😂🤣 had to slap a plaster on it and claim it was a war wound after getting choked by an armbar at open mat last week. great carry on lads!