‘Who else is there?’: inside UFC fighter Song Yadong’s journey to become the sport’s first Chinese male champion

Song was born in Harbin, in China’s north-eastern province of Heilongjiang. His first exposure to fighting came through action films: in particular, he idolised Bruce Lee, the Hong Kong-American martial-arts legend and star of classics like Enter the Dragon and Fist of Fury. “I didn’t get into street fights as a kid,” he says, but he loved the “passion” he saw on screen.

Raised by a single mother, Song says, “My mum taught me how to be a good person, to be upright and honest, to treat the people around you with sincerity.” At nine, he asked his mother to send him to a martial-arts school in Henan province, near the historic Shaolin Monastery. She agreed, and Song spent his formative years training and competing across the mainland, including in sanda, or Chinese kickboxing.

A turning point came when, as a teenager, he discovered videos of American fighters—notably Urijah Faber, a UFC Hall of Fame inductee. Song realised that fighting in the UFC could be his career. In early 2017, he sent a cold e-mail to Faber’s California-based gym, Team Alpha Male, asking to train there. Wanting to learn from the “best of the best”, he moved to Sacramento with what little savings he could scrape together.

Faber was impressed from the start. “I watched him wrestle, and like, man, this kid’s really tough,” he told the UFC in a 2022 video interview. Song spoke only Chinese and Faber only English, so “our first communication was us wrestling”, the Californian athlete added. (Faber, contacted by Tatler, declined to be interviewed for this article.)

Later in 2017, Song made his UFC debut in Shanghai, where he defeated the Indian fighter Bharat Kandare. Then 19, Song lived hand to mouth, spending most of each purse on coaches for the next fight. As he racked up wins, he slowly gained recognition for his striking abilities. “I was nobody,” he says of those early days. “I went to America and proved myself with my fists, and they respected me more.”

“I think only someone like me, who came from the bottom with nothing, can stand where I am today,” he grins. “My goal is to help more people from the bottom realise what they are worth.”

Throughout his UFC career, Song has weathered painful losses, including a 2022 defeat to fellow bantamweight Cory Sandhagen after a doctor stopped the fight. Song later revealed that he had suffered an eye socket fracture that required a titanium plate; in a post on Twitter (now known as X), he cheerfully noted that he “will come back tougher with the metal”. Since returning to the circuit in 2023, this year has tested his mettle: after a decision loss to the former bantamweight champion Sean O’Malley in January, he submitted another former champion, Deiveson Figueiredo, in Macau in May.

Song is also “a great student who will try and try and perfect the work in hand”, Rudy Hernandez, one of his coaches, tells Tatler. A longtime boxer, Hernandez instructed Song to practise his uppercuts ahead of his match in Shanghai. The fighter’s commitment to perfecting the move paid off when his uppercut—just as they had rehearsed—knocked Nurmagomedov out. In the face of sceptics, Song’s decisive win ensured “even those that didn’t believe could now be believers,” Hernandez says.

Song’s rise dovetails with the UFC’s growing popularity in China. In March, the organisation announced its fanbase there has passed 188 million, and its following on Chinese social platforms has reached 17 million, up 70 per cent since it began broadcasting on the streaming platform Migu in 2021.

Yet the UFC’s success has come with a contentious public image. Some of its best-known fighters have faced court cases involving sexual assault and domestic violence, while the close ties between its president and CEO, Dana White, and US President Donald Trump have also drawn scrutiny in the United States.

The name of Song’s longtime gym, Team Alpha Male, could be seen as controversial: the term “alpha male” has been linked to online communities that promote misogyny. Asked what the name means to him, Song rejects any sexist overtones—in fact, as he points out, Team Alpha Male includes female fighters. “I think Western society worships strength,” he says, adding: “‘Alpha male’, in America, just means being ‘the best’. I think there’s no such thing as men being stronger or women being stronger. Everyone has their own area of expertise.”

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There’s also the matter of violence itself. Built on mixed martial arts—a blend of boxing, wrestling, Brazilian jiu-jitsu, Muay Thai, karate and judo—UFC fights are first judged on effective striking and grappling, then on factors including “effective aggressiveness” and control of the cage. The organisation has introduced stricter safety guidelines and medical oversight since it was founded in 1993, when it touted a “no rules” culture, but it still seems to revel in brutality. Blood is routinely shed, and smeared, on the gray canvas of the eight-sided enclosure known as the Octagon, and the UFC’s YouTube channel offers its 23 million subscribers compilations titled “Most Brutal One-Round Fights in UFC History” and “Scary UFC Knockouts You Must See!”

Song says he dislikes the more gruesome side of his trade. “I like the technique part,” he says. “I don’t like violence.” The fighter still experiences fear during matches, but “fighting isn’t about determination, it’s about skill.”

“A fight isn’t like a movie—a fight changes in an instant and ends quickly,” Song says. “There’s no time to tell yourself, ‘Do this or that.’ You just need to hone every technique perfectly in training, prepare thoroughly, and adjust your mindset to perform in the cage.”

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The core of his training is a habit of intense, graphic visualisation. Months out from each fight, he and his coaches “watch footage, analyse the opponent, and prepare”. Song spends 15 minutes a day picturing every possible outcome in obsessive detail. In one long, uninterrupted stream of consciousness, he describes to Tatler what he imagines: hearing his walk-out music, seeing his opponent in the opposite corner, smelling sweat and blood, feeling the Octagon’s canvas underfoot, touching the cage. He imagines being hit, taken down to the mat, and “getting beaten up continuously”.

Why would a man who dislikes violence study it so thoroughly? “I think if you want to fully unleash your potential, you must have a great mindset. But this mindset is difficult to maintain because many things happen during a fight—for example, your nose breaks, or you’re bleeding heavily, or your eye socket fractures and you can’t see clearly,” he says. “So, beforehand, we need to train our brains.” He’s become familiar with periods of handling “immense pressure”, and even come to like it: “I think it’s about enjoying the process.”

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As to Song’s question—who else is there?—the UFC has not announced who, or when, the “Kung Fu Kid” will fight next. Shortly after this issue went to press, the Russian champion Petr Yan, nicknamed “No Mercy”, defended his bantamweight title against the Georgian fighter Merab Dvalishvili, “The Machine”, in Abu Dhabi in late October. Song lost to Yan by unanimous decision in March 2024; now demanding a title shot, he stands a chance of facing him again.

“Many people ask, ‘What do you want to do in the future?’ I don’t really like that question,” he says. What he wants is to train, and fight—which, he explains, relates to his sense of self: “I define myself as someone who needs to be strong, and that goal is hard. You sacrifice a lot for that goal … I often envy those with no goals, whose lives are peaceful, free of desire.”

He points to a Chinese phrase, xin ru zhi shui: having a heart like still water. “I think the ultimate pursuit of humanity is a tranquil mind,” he says. “It’s when, after experiencing everything, your heart returns to calmness … inner peace is the highest form of happiness, the most enduring kind.”

Seeking peace may sound strange from a fighter pursuing a championship. “In the end, I want to be an ordinary person,” he clarifies. “I don’t need others to remember me or worship me.” Instead, what drives him to reach number one is the sense that he is becoming who he truly is: “Watching myself grow, little by little, reaching the goals I set as a child—I think life should return to a state of calm.”

“I don’t pursue happiness,” Song says. “I pursue the process of realising my life’s value.”

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Credits

Content Director: Tara Sobti
Editor: Cat Wang
Creative Direction: Zoe Yau
Photography: Johnny Lu
Director of Photography: Siven Ho
Videographer: Chau Nin
Producer: Carlos Hui
Grooming: Kit Li
Stylist: Anthony Tong
Photography Assistant: Jerry Liao
Styling Assistant: Joey Wong
Location: Southpaw Hong Kong