How Demetrious Johnson Broke UFC Records and Now in One FC

I dont usually sit and type out long MMA stories. Normaly it’s me rambling about why KL Rahul’s cover drive looks like someone checking their WhatsApp mid innings or how cycling uphill in Pune traffic is the same as fighting for breath in Delhi smog. But last week… I dont know what happend. Internet lagged, YouTube algorithm pulled me into a rabbit hole, and suddenly I was six fights deep into Demetrius “Mighty Mouse” Johnson highlights.

And man… this guy. Height Just about 5’3” (shorter than Sachin paaji, imagine that). Weight Barely 57 kilos. But he fought in cages with men who looked like they were built to carry cement bags on site. And still he’d float around them sting them strangle them like some mosquito on steroids.

So I sat with chai (pro tip add elaichi at the last boil not before otherwise the flavor runs away like India’s middle order chasing 300) and thought: “Yaar Indians love underdog stories. We’ll sit through a 5 day Test in Kanpur dust bowl to see if some debut spinner gets Kohli out. How come we dont talk about this guy?”

So here’s my ranty version of Mighty Mouse’s life — not neat not polished just like family gossip at a shaadi table when uncle starts about his knee surgery.

→ A Childhood Like Gully Cricket With No Ball

Demetrius Johnson was born in some small town in Washington USA. He never met his biological dad. His stepdad Strict to the point of abusive. The only real support system was his mom — and even that was a curveball. At 15 he discovered she was deaf all along. Imagine living 15 years thinking your mom hears you nag about homework or the noise of your video games, and then boom — she’d just been reading lips. Like when we find out the neighbour’s “broken scooter” actually works fine but he pretends so he can borrow your bike.

In school Johnson stuck to wrestling. Not WWE chair throwing, but proper Olympic wrestling. He was small but he had that “chhota packet bada dhamaka” vibe. Always the tiniest guy on the mat but always the toughest to pin. That’s like being the last bench cricket guy with a plastic bat who still smashes everyone’s expensive leather ball for six.

→ Cement Bags Gyms and the Slow Local Train

After school he could’ve gone to a university wrestling program. But he didn’t want to leave his mom. Instead he worked jobs — like actual hard jobs not cushy IT with bean bags. Construction sites moving stuff around hands full of blisters. Then evening Gym. Then sleep. Repeat.

Reading about his schedule felt like Virar fast local — packed sweaty endless. You blink and your stop is gone. He trained at AMC gym under coach Matt Hume who’s basically the Chanakya of MMA. And Mighty Mouse He became the Arjun — minus the bow plus the flying knees.

I’ll be honest I tried one boxing class near my house once. First 10 minutes on the heavy bag my knuckles were crying louder than my mother when she sees my electricity bill. This guy did it after 8 hours of hauling cement. Different breed.

→ UFC Dreams Boss Permission Required

So he racks up wins in smaller shows and in 2010 the UFC comes calling. Now you’d think big moment superstar vibes. But no. The man literally had to call his boss to ask leave for his debut fight. Like “Hello sir Friday chutti milega Gotta fight a world champion in a cage.”

That’s middle class energy right there. Reminds me of asking for half day to watch an India–Pakistan match.

Anyway he fought taller guys stronger guys but never stopped. Even when he lost to Dominick Cruz (a legend) he showed enough speed that UFC decided “Okay let’s make a new division just for these lighter guys.” And boom — flyweight division (57 kg) was born.

→ 11 Defenses No Masala Drama

Here’s where it gets wild. Once he got that belt he defended it 11 times in a row. That’s like India winning 11 tosses AND matches under Dhoni. Every challenger — Joseph Benavidez Henry Cejudo (Olympic gold medalist mind you) John Dodson — all tried all failed.

But here’s the twist. Fans didnt care. Why Because he was too good. His fights were like those old Rahul Dravid innings — technically perfect but the crowd wanted sixes not straight drives. Pay per view sales were so low the UFC bosses probbaly cried into their whiskey.