We need to add typos, missing commas, or other small errors. The previous answer is a long post already. We need to modify it to include typos and missing commas. Add errors like “Marlon “Chito” Vera’s story reads like a wild mixtape of broken windows, cheap gym mats, sleepless nights, and a daughter’s smile that fuels every punch.” maybe missing comma. Also add typos like “autoraickshaw” instead of “autorickshaw”. Add some missing periods, double spaces, etc. Ensure no new pronouns I/we/you. Keep style. Provide corrected version with errors included. We’ll output revised text with intentional errors.## When Chito’s Mom Said “Stop Throwing Rocks”
Marlon “Chito” Vera grew up in a tiny farming hamlet called Chona, tucked in the Andes of north‑west Ecuador. Parents called him Chita like a nickname, not because of any fancy title but because the kid spent more time breaking windows than helping with corn. At sixteen the internet finally crawled into the village, and a shaky video of an lit a fire. The teen swore an oath: become a fighter, no matter the cost.
First step A friend dragged him to a Brazilian Jiu‑Jitsu gym. The trainer asked, “What’s your background?” Marlon answered, “None, just want the UFC.” The trainer laughed, but the kid walked out with a new purpose and a busted knuckle from a sloppy spar. Streets stopped being a playground for trouble; the gym became the new arena. Kickboxing, Jiu‑Jitsu, wrestling—all mixed together like chai with extra ginger. By eighteen he was already stepping into professional cages across Latin America, sending emails to every promotion promising to fight for free. A $500 payday didn’t change life, but each win added a brick to the dream of the UFC.
Meanwhile a regular office job tried to pull him back. A slick lawyer tossed a stack of papers at his face, and Marlon threatened a fist‑fight. The lawyer’s influence got him fired the next day. At twenty, married with a daughter, the pressure hit hard. Father handed over a final cheque, saying, “Help ends December 1st.” The clock ticked, and a random online ad about “The Ultimate Fighter South America” appeared. Marlon spammed the press office with applications, each one more desperate than the last. Three days before the deadline a call came: “You got a spot.” The voice on the line sounded like a prank, but the reality show was real. Mentors Cain Velasquez and Fabiano “Fabri” Verdugo put him on the Brazilian team. First fight ended with a flashy finish, cheers erupted, and the kid made it to the semifinals—until a weight‑cut disaster collapsed his immune system. Doctors said “no more fights,” but Dana White called, impressed by the raw talent. A contract followed, and the final tournament slot secured his UFC ticket.
First UFC year felt like a bad hangover. Three fights, one win, whispers of being cut. Marlon decided to uproot his family and move to the United States, hunting a high‑level coach. A chance meeting with a trainer named “Knees” (nickname from a broken leg in a street brawl) set him on a new path. Training in the States meant better sparring partners, but life threw another curveball: his eldest daughter was born with a rare Mobius syndrome, leaving half her face frozen. A Beverly Hills surgeon quoted $60,000 for a corrective operation. Marlon promised his wife a winning streak to fund the surgery, and the fight for his daughter’s smile became the new motivation.
First big test came in Australia against the Chinese TUF champion “Nom Guan.” Marlon started strong, taking the fight to the ground, but Guan’s technique outmatched him in the second round. By the third, the Ecuadorian poured everything into a desperate scramble, finally locking a submission. Five minutes later, tears streamed down his face—part pride, part exhaustion, part relief that the fight ended before the surgery bill loomed.
Next stop: England, facing local favorite “Brad Pitt” (not the actor, just a nickname for the tough Brit). The crowd roared, the veteran pressed forward, but Marlon held his ground. With a minute left, a right hook landed clean, and the British fighter’s eyes glazed. The bell rang, and the Ecuadorian walked away with a narrow decision. The win bought a few more dollars toward the operation, but the real victory was seeing his daughter’s first genuine smile in a photo sent by his wife the night before the next bout.
July brought a showdown with “Boom” Brian, a seven‑fight streak champion from a regional promotion. Marlon opened with a massive leg kick, and Brian bragged he’d “break Chito.” Within three minutes, Marlon forced a surrender, adding another finish to the record. A few weeks later, a fight against John Liqueur—who’d lost only to a rising star—ended in a loss. The UFC hinted at a possible release, but the surgeon’s bill finally cleared. The operation succeeded; the daughter’s smile lit up the house, and the motivation surged.
Back in the Octagon, a Chinese opponent named “Ji Buran” stood across the cage. The first round was a tactical chess game; the second saw Marlon crank up the pace, snapping Ji’s liver with a vicious body shot fifteen seconds before the bell. The crowd erupted, and the win marked the start of a winning streak that would later earn a performance‑of‑the‑night bonus.
November 2018, a brutal bout in Argentina against Guido Canetti tested endurance. The first round saw Canetti batter Marlon, but the second round ignited a furious assault. Marlon’s knees cut through the air, blood smelled, and the Argentine finally tapped. The victory sparked a series of rapid finishes: a knockout over a rookie named “Hin Hernandez,” a swift submission against Andre El, and a fifth consecutive early win that finally pushed him into the top‑15 rankings.
2020 arrived with a clash against the unbeaten Chinese prospect “Sngo Edon.” Both fighters traded brutal exchanges for two rounds. In the final minute, Marlon seized a takedown, snatching the win just before the gong. Judges, however, ruled it a draw, sparking outrage from commentators and fans alike. The controversy fueled a rematch against “Shono Lee,” a rising bantamweight star. Mid‑first round, Marlon landed a knee that damaged Lee’s peroneal nerve, ending the opponent’s career in an instant. The eighth early victory set a new division record for consecutive finishes.
After six years of grinding, the promotion finally matched Marlon with former featherweight champ José Aldo. The Brazilian’s experienceone early, pinning Marlon against the cage. In the third round, Aldo secured a rear‑naked choke, and the Ecuadorian tapped. No excuses, just a quiet acceptance: “If I lose fair, I admit defeat.” Training switched to Jason Parilla’s camp, tightening the routine: morning and evening sessions, 20 km Sunday runs, no vacations, strict diet. The regimen turned into a lifestyle, and the fan community started chanting “Chito!” during every fight.
June 2023, a rematch with Davey Grant—who had bested Marlon five years earlier—proved a redemption story. Grant unleashed a flurry in the first round, but Marlon survived, using his clinch to neutralize the Englishman. In the third round, a relentless pressure forced Grant into a decision loss. The victory felt sweeter than any cash prize; it was proof that perseverance could rewrite a fate once written in a dusty Ecuadorian village.
Later that year, a blockbuster in New York saw Marlon face Frankie Edgar. Edgar’s veteran instincts led to an early takedown, but Marlon escaped, landing a perfect front kick reminiscent of Anderson Silva’s style. The fight earned another performance bonus and cemented his status as a fan favorite. A final bout in the same season against a tough opponent named “Von” ended with a crushing hook in the third round, followed by a relentless barrage that forced a unanimous decision victory. The crowd roared, the lights dimmed, and the fan community kept typing, chai cooling on the desk, keyboards slick with spilled tea.
Throughout the chaos, random moments peppered the journey: an autorickshaw driver in Mumbai once shouted, “Kid, keep your elbows low, they’ll bite you later!” A chai cup toppled at round two, soaking the laptop and causing a brief pause—still, the commentary continued. A misplaced “B” on a fight card led to a brief identity crisis for a promoter, but the show went on.
Marlon “Chito” Vera’s story reads like a wild mixtape of broken windows, cheap gym mats, sleepless nights and a daughter’s smile that fuels every punch. The path from Chona’s dusty lanes to the UFC’s bright lights proves that a kid who once threw rocks at windows can still throw knockout blows on the world stage. No tidy ending, just the next fight waiting, the next chai brewing, and the next chaotic paragraph waiting to be typed.