He will surprise you! Song Yadong — Wild Rubaka in the UFC
We need to add typos, missing commas, small errors to the text. Keep overall structure but introduce errors: misspellings, missing commas, occasional double spaces, etc. Ensure still readable. Add errors throughout. Provide final answer.Yong Edong: The “Monsoon‑Mouth” Fighter Who Turned My Chai‑Sipping Nights into a Roller‑Coaster
➤ From Rice‑Fields to the Octagon
Born in a tiny village where buffaloes outnumbered traffic lights, Yong Edong grew up chasing chickens instead of sparring partners. Dad owned a tea stall, mother cooked dal‑rice for the whole block. Little Edong helped by sweeping the floor, dreaming of a day when a crowd would cheer his name instead of the kettle’s whistle
At 13, watched a grainy VHS of a local wrestling bout on a cracked TV. The wrestler’s shoulder‑throw felt like a thunderclap during a monsoon. That night, borrowed a bamboo stick, practiced takedowns on the family goat. Goat didn’t mind; it just gave a bleat that sounded like a referee’s “let’s go!”
When a traveling coach from a regional MMA gym visited the village for a talent hunt, Edong leapt onto the mat with the ferocity of a monsoon wind. Coach saw raw power, zero technique, and a hunger that could swallow a whole plate of vada pav. Offered a scholarship to the city gym, but family needed Edong’s hands at the tea stall. He split shifts: mornings milking buffaloes, evenings drilling jabs under fluorescent lights that flickered like Mumbai’s power grid during a storm
Training days turned into nights. Coach introduced Edong to Brazilian Jiu‑Jitsu, then to Muay‑Thai clinch work. Edong’s habit: chew a piece of jaggery before each spar, claim it “sweetens the strike.” Teammates rolled their eyes, but Edong swore the sugar spike helped him land a knockout faster than a Mumbai local train arrives on time
➤ The Rise – Big Wins that Felt Like a Festival
First pro fight landed in 2019, in a modest arena in Pune. Opponent, a lanky striker from Delhi, boasted a 2‑0 record. Edong entered the cage, heart thudding like a dhol drum. Round one: opponent jabbed, Edong slipped, caught a low kick, slammed him to the mat with a double‑leg takedown that sent crowd into a chant of “Edong! Edong!”
Second round, Edong’s jaggery habit paid off. Launched a spinning back‑fist that connected clean, opponent’s eyes rolled back, referee called it a KO. The victory felt like winning a lottery ticket while waiting for the power to come back after a monsoon outage
Next milestone: 2021, UFC debut in Las Vegas. Opponent, a polished Brazilian named “Silva the Snake.” The fight aired on a cheap streaming service in my living room while the monsoon hammered the windows. Power flickered, then died. Mom lit a diya, we ate bhel puri, and I watched the fight on my phone’s dim screen. Mid‑round, cat “Mausi” leapt onto the laptop, paws covering the screen. Edong, mid‑strike, paused as if he too sensed a sudden interruption. When the cat hopped off, Edong delivered a perfect knee that dropped Silva like a sack of rice
That night, I shouted “Yong Edong!” at the ceiling, startling the cat into a frantic sprint across the room. Mom, sipping chai, asked, “Who’s this Yong?” I answered, “His fists are louder than the monsoon!” She laughed, poured another cup, and said, “If his punches are as spicy as your masala chai, I’ll watch every fight.”
➤ Setbacks – When the Storm Hits Hard
Every fighter meets a rainy day. 2022, Edong faced a grappler from Russia, “The Siberian Bear.” The fight turned into a ground‑and‑pound marathon. Edong tried his signature jaggery‑boosted bursts, but the Bear’s grip was tighter than a Mumbai auto‑rickshaw’s brakes. In the second round, Bear locked a guillotine, forced a tap. The arena fell silent, like a street after the monsoon clears, leaving only the echo of a single rain‑drop on the metal roof
Post‑fight, Edong confessed to the press: “I forgot to hydrate. My throat felt like a dry paratha.” He blamed a missed water bottle, blamed the heat, blamed the jaggery for making him “too sweet to think straight.” He took a month off, ate only boiled rice and lentils, and swore off jaggery
During that break, I tried a new snack—pav bhaji with extra butter—while watching his recovery videos. He showed a new habit: meditating on a balcony, eyes closed, breathing like a slow train arriving at Churchgate. The calm contrasted sharply with his earlier storm‑like energy
➤ The Comeback – A Fighter Reforged
2023, Edong returned at a Fight Night in Tokyo. Opponent, a Korean striker known for lightning kicks. The arena smelled of incense and street‑food stalls. Edong entered, now without jaggery, wearing a simple black singlet with a tiny embroidered monsoon cloud
First round, opponent launched a high kick, Edong slipped, countered with a low kick that cracked the opponent’s shin. Mid‑round, Edong executed a rare “spider‑web” guard—arms weaving like a Mumbai market’s tangled wires—forcing the striker to scramble. The crowd roared, chanting “Edong!” in unison, a sound louder than a monsoon thunderclap
Second round, Edong landed a precise elbow that cut the striker’s eyebrow, blood mixing with sweat like chai with milk. The referee stopped the fight. Victory tasted sweeter than any jaggery could.
After the win, Edong said, “I learned that storms pass, but the river keeps flowing.” He now drinks a mix of coconut water and a pinch of jaggery—just enough to keep the sweet memory without the crash
╰┈➤ Side Note 1
Fighters sometimes keep odd mementos: Edong carries a tiny brass bell from his village temple, rings it before each fight for “good luck and louder knockouts.”
╰┈➤ Side Note 2
Random trivia: The UFC once scheduled a fight at 3 am local time to accommodate Asian viewers. The arena’s lights flickered like a Mumbai power cut, and the fighters joked they’d need chai to stay awake
╰┈➤ Side Note 3
Personal reaction: watched Edong’s 2024 title fight while waiting for a water‑pump to restart after a pipe burst. The pump gurgled, the fight roared, and I cheered louder than the neighbors’ complaints about the noise
➤ Why Edong Matters to a Mumbai Fan
Edong’s story mirrors a monsoon‑season life: early darkness, sudden bursts of energy, unexpected pauses, and finally a clearing sky. He fought with the raw hunger of a kid stealing extra samosa from a street vendor, then learned discipline like a monk chanting at sunrise
His jaggery habit, cat‑interruptions, balcony meditations—all feel like anecdotes shared over a steaming cup of chai at a local dhaba. Family reactions—mom’s skeptical “who is this?” turning into proud “watch his next fight”—reflect the Indian household’s journey from doubt to pride
Every knockout feels like a burst of fireworks over Marine Drive, each setback like a sudden downpour that drenches the city
Watching Edong, I learn that a fighter’s heart beats in sync with the rhythm of rain on tin roofs, the hiss of a kettle, the crunch of a vada pav.
If you ever find yourself stuck in a power‑cut, cat on the laptop, or waiting for the monsoon to pass, turn on an Edong fight. Let his punches echo through the empty rooms, let his resilience remind you that storms end, but the fight—inside and outside the cage—keeps on
