By Julien C Levy
Photos by Dylan Schattman
Given the breezy way Demetrious Johnson talks about his job, hobbies and family, the 36-year-old father of three could easily be mistaken for a harmless desk clerk — a programmer or a salesman or a marketing director or something. “My wife calls me a nerd all the time,” he says. “I’m interested in technology now. I’m part of two startup companies here in Seattle.” Johnson commutes to work every day in a Tesla that has two years to pay for itself, and he takes his gaming laptop on vacation. “I’m trying to get better at not worrying about gambling when I’m traveling with my wife,” he admits.
Don’t let all of this fool you. Johnson does not have an office job and is anything but harmless.
With 31 wins, four losses and one tie, Demetrious “Mighty Mouse” Johnson is the reigning ONE Championship Mixed Martial Arts World Flyweight Champion and arguably the best pound-for-pound fighter in the history of the sport.
He has defended his title eleven times. He has achieved a streak of 13 consecutive wins. Johnson once won a fight by knocking an opponent off his feet with a suplex and locking him in an inevitable submission hold midair. If Johnson felt like being proud and bowing and crowing over his accomplishments, no one would say he didn’t deserve the right.
But he just isn’t. Fighting, he says with a shrug, is his thing. “You do it for so long that you kind of get used to it.”
The greatest of all time speaks with actions, not words.
“I will strike [Demetrious Johnson] more and more until someone rips me off their lifeless corpse,” barked MMA fighter John Dodson in a 2015 prefight interview ahead of his second fight for Johnson’s title. “I will go through him and destroy his whole life, all his meaning and purpose… I will murder Demetrious Johnson.” The threat went unanswered; Johnson won by unanimous decision.
In western martial arts – where titles, reputation, egos, records and money are at stake – athletes are expected to make threats, talk shit and generally heel-deal. Flashy consumption, nightclub antics and boastful monologues are a must. Excitement and drama can attract attention, viewership, and money.
Photos by Dylan Schattman
But even if it were to his advantage, Johnson refuses to play that game. “I never have ill will toward my opponents,” he says. “I want everyone to make as much money as possible. I want them to eat well, I want them to take care of their families and their children and that’s it.”
There is speculation that Johnson’s refusal to keep his mouth shut was what ultimately led to his move from the US-based UFC to the Singapore-based ONE Championship, but Johnson insists it’s better that way.
“[ONE] just letting me be who I am and just letting me do my thing, which I’ve always been grateful for,” he says. “[ONE’s martial artists] carry themselves with humility and are humbled and grateful for the opportunity so it just works perfectly for me.”
When circling an opponent, Johnson is focused, technique-oriented, and methodical. “I try to be very strategic and see what my opponent can do and implement my strategy,” he says. “Nine times out of ten, things go pretty much as we planned.” A statement like this might sound like a rare boast if it weren’t backed up by a win rate of nearly 90 percent.
Johnson’s combat philosophy borders on Zen, focusing on processes he can control rather than worrying about uncertain outcomes. “I’m at a point in my career now where I don’t think about winning or losing,” he says. “I’m just worried about going out and having a good fight.” And that, he explains, is about sticking to the plan he and his team have worked out, taking the fight to the enemy and staying calm.
The closest you’ll ever get to seeing Johnson lose his cool is when he’s live streaming video games. Where the MMA hype machine has tried and failed to get its dander up, his streaming channel Mighty Gaming’s 88.5k subscribers know exactly how to get the goat of the goat. He’d previously sworn off the notoriously punishing fantasy RPG Elden Ring, but that’s what people tuning in to his stream wanted to see, so that’s exactly what he’s playing. As his fantasy avatar keeps dying, Johnson openly moans and growls, keeping his head down hanging, covers his face with his hand. Still, he emerges with a smile and says, “We did it this time!” Johnson lives for it.
“I could play for myself all day, every day,” he says. “I stream to interact with the fans. That’s why my wife made me do it.” He then corrects himself for calling the people who tune in to his stream “fans.” “We are a community,” he says. And chuckles, adding: “The community loves to watch me play [Elden Ring] because I’m upset about it.”
The irony is most striking when compared to his reaction to a loss in The Octagon.
At the 2018 post-fight press conference just after losing his title to a stunning loss to Henry Cejudo – only his third loss ever – a reporter asked about his emotional state. A little confused by the actual premise of the question, Johnson replied, “I’m fine. Losing happens.” Yes, his foot, MCL and almost unheard-of 13-fight win streak may all be broken, but that’s just part of what he signed up for. Next question.
Does Johnson’s methodical approach to combat – the way he studies his opponent’s weaknesses to exploit even the smallest defensive mistakes – translate into a winning strategy when taking on the toughest bosses in the Elden Ring? He laughs and pats the theory on the mat: “Those are two different things. I just go out because I can die and relax.”
Johnson understands that the key to his stream’s success is the cross-fertilization of sports fans and gamers. “I’m trying to merge the two,” he says, insisting he’s not pandering to either demographic. “I’m the same person when it comes to being me.” However, he acknowledges that the horse racing aspect of professional sports can be alienating. “I feel like I’m clicking along [the gaming] crowd more,” he tells me. “When it comes to MMA, we all have our choices and perspectives on certain people – who’s better, who’s not. I feel like gaming, it’s the same, but we can all play, that makes it easier.”
Johnson didn’t grow up with Hoop Dreams-like endeavors. “I didn’t watch football, I didn’t watch mixed martial arts, I didn’t watch boxing,” he recalls. “I was just a kid, doing my best to be a good son, a good brother.” As with many children for whom poverty closes doors, Johnson found an open window when his mother and sister introduced him to video games . “Gaming was one of those things where you buy a game for $40 and you can play countless hours, my brother and I.” Looking back on that era, he starts streaming 8-bit and 16-bit games: “Nintendo and Super Nintendo, which have been a big part of my life. I grew up with that.”
Photos by Dylan Schattman
Tattoos also provide a connection to his childhood. The inspiration for Johnson’s first tattoo came from the weekends when his mother took him and his siblings for haircuts. “She said, ‘You were good. I’ll give you two quarters and you get a tattoo [from the vending machine].’” He had a particular fondness for a temporary armband tattoo, which he wore to school the following Monday. “When I turned 18, I got the exact same armband,” says Johnson. He has since incorporated it into a shoulder-to-elbow Polynesian-style half-sleeve that was publicly revealed in his redeeming rematch against Adriano Moraes for the flyweight title.
But don’t expect DJ to be completely covered. He definitely wants more ink, but certain areas of his body are off-limits. “I don’t do my chest,” he says. “Absolutely not. My chest and abs are glowing.”
As we chat, I can hear Johnson’s kids carousing and squeaking in the background, and throughout our conversation he keeps circling about how much he doesn’t focus on his career or reputation, but on his life at home, where he often does the words “grateful,” “blessed,” and “humble.”
I continue to research the origin of his equanimity, wondering if he has always been like this or if it is something he has cultivated. He laughs and sneaks me over and asks if I’d like to pop the question to his wife, Destiny Bartels. Elsewhere, he refers to acts of service as his love language and speaks of showing his appreciation for his partner by happily taking care of domestic chores: cooking, dishes, laundry. It’s not a trick or a performance, it’s just who he is. “I think I’ve always been a very considerate person,” he says, then deflects from the idea that he’s some sort of exceptional. “I think most MMA fighters are.”
When I ask him who he wants to fight next, it’s like asking what he wants for lunch. “It will probably be Adriano again,” he says. “I’m sure they want the trilogy. I just focus on enjoying my life and enjoying my free time with my wife and kids and that’s it man.”