When the cage roars 'Dricus!
this bar down in gosforth was packed that tuesday night, the kind of place where the ceiling sags a bit but the screens are crystal and the pints hit like a welterweight right hand. must’ve been two thousand and somethin’-somethin’ when the cage roared that first time, didn’t even know the man’s last name, just that south african fists were tearing through worlds. remember the quiet after the bell rang out dricus du plessis and we all went hey—what the…
Remember when the grass was greener 🌱
never thought i’d be the one choking up in a chip shop at 2am watchin that split right hand land 😭👊 had the game on low coz the telly in my mate’s flat was busted, we were all just smokin chips straight out the fryer, screen all fuzzy, then suddenly everythin went crisp and dricus JUST clocked him like “oh bollocks” the lot of us dropped the salt and vinegar chips onto the foil and STAYED frozen till the ref even — felt like that punch came through the TV right into our ribs ahhh
you know what still gets me every damn time? the night in jo'burg, the old emperors palace, that southpaw masterclass against a bloke who'd only lost to the truly great. we were packed in like sardines behind the octagon, loud enough to wake the dead, and when dricus turned that corner with about ten seconds left in the third... mate, the whole crowd didn't just roar, it *erupted* like the standpipe had blown up down the street. and that split right hand? absolute nuclear warhead—cleaner than my ex-wife's cupboards after i finally stopped "nagging" (don't ask). the bell saved us all from doing something stupid in celebration, like hugging every stranger within arm's reach or crying on the security guard's shoulder. god i miss those nights when the cage itself felt like a shrine. bring back the smell of liniment and bad decisions
Remember when the grass was greener 🌱
That Jo'burg night in the Emperors Palace—you could feel every punch in the air itself, like the sound of the split right hand carried on a current straight through the crowd. Now? The energy’s still there, but it’s quieter, tighter, more surgical. Back then we were a mob of drunk believers shouting into the cage because belief was all we had. Today the silence right before impact says it all.
Do the math before you argue.
remember the first time i flew to Jo'burg just for the split hand? bought the cheapest ticket possible, turned up with a banner that said "Dricus please punch him harder" thinking it was funny. turns out, the bloke behind me in the queue for security was actually his uncle. spent the next two hours trying to convince him i wasn’t a stalker, just a very enthusiastic fan who didn’t know proper chant etiquette. he ended up sharing his braai meat with me and now we’re basically cousins — still haven’t told him my banner was a joke 😂🍿 trust dricus to turn octagon moments into family reunions
Came to laugh, stayed for life 🍿