Ask Jimmy Drago and he’ll tell you. “It’s been a hell of a journey.”
Drago (7-2) earned his shot to fight for a UFC contract Tuesday on Dana White’s Contender Series through his hard work in the gym, crafting his face-punching and grappling. His story is simply a compliment to his grind, but one he thinks could make a positive difference.
It’s not easy for Drago. It’s somewhat uncomfortable. But he’s made the choice to tell it, not for himself. But for others.
Every professional athlete has a story about the journey that got them to the top. Exceptional humans often have most unique roads, but Drago’s is next level. The route detoured through rock bottom and death – eight times to be exact.
Drago remembers drinking and smoking weed as a teenager. It was fun, but it was innocent. That’s until it wasn’t. At 15, Drago suffered monumental loss, the death of his father. One of the foundations of his life was gone. His structure took a blow.
“My mother did the absolute best she could to provide for the three kids she was raising on her own,” Drago recently told MMA Junkie. “She worked two jobs to put food on the table. One of the jobs had benefits. She’s the real all-star here. Smoking weed turned to pills and pills turned to powder and powder turned to other pills and those other pills turned into other powder. It was just a different generation. The opiates took over.”
Drago overdosed time and time again. He tried rehab without luck. His support system of family and friends was strong, but over time, it grew more weathered. Drago can’t wrap his head around how inconsequential life felt. His body craved different priorities.
“One term that sat well with me is called the gift of desperation,” Drago recently told MMA Junkie. “Dying never really phased me. Dying was easy. That’s the saddest part about it is that you don’t even really know you’re gone. You just kind of wake up. What happened? You overdosed. It wasn’t dying. It wasn’t the car crashes. It wasn’t the fight or violence. It was the consistent look of disappointment in everybody’s face when they looked at me. That soul-stabbing feeling that I want to kill myself, but I’m too much of a p*ssy to do it.”
Drug addiction does not discriminate. Rich or poor. Male or female. White, black, brown, or any complexion. Drago had this truth firmly instilled in him first-hand – but also second-hand, with the death of his father.
“They always say whatever you put in front of your sobriety, you’ll end up losing,” Drago said. “I’ve seen it. I’ve seen it. People who are sober 20 or 30 years go back and not come back. My father was the strongest, greatest man I ever met. He had 21 years sober. He went out and he did not come back. Eleven months is all it took and he was deceased. You have to learn from your mistakes. If you’re wise, you have to learn from other people’s mistakes. Eventually in this disease, everybody’s ticket gets punched. So for me, it was either watch life go by or get into the game of life. I was tired of just existing. It was time to get into the game of life.”
Enough is finally enough
Everyone around a drug-addicted person can want them to change. But until they want to do it themselves, the task is beyond difficult. Drago’s epiphany came after his final overdose. It’s a memory he’s played repeatedly over in his mind as he’s pursued professional ventures.
“My last day, I looked at my brother, who I pretty much helped raise,” Drago said. “You know how many times I said, ‘I’m sorry,’ to him? I was just a mess that day. He kind of just shook his head at me and moved on. My mother wouldn’t even let me drive home from this place we were at. I was just causing an absolute disaster by myself. I’m just in the shower in the fetal position, with tears coming down my face. I was like, ‘I can’t do this no more. I can’t do this no more.'”
Drago kicked and writhed in his bed for four days. It was off to rehab – again. But this time? This time it worked.
“They say when the student’s ready, the teacher appears,” Drago said. “My ass got burned. My ass got burned. I was in a lot of pain. My poor family was watching me deteriorate. It was either now or never for me. I chose now.”
When it was time for Drago to reenter the real world, he wasn’t out of hell yet. He had no education. No job. No money. He was unsure of where to turn to. It was Hell.
“I can tell you exactly what Hell was like, just like it was yesterday,” Drago said. “I remember sitting on that couch. I can’t even lift my eyes up, getting ready to throw up, not knowing what to do with myself. Everyone is trying to figure out what college they want to go to. I’m trying to figure out if rehab is going to take insurance from me. Father deceased. Mother working two jobs. No friends. I remember it like it was yesterday. Just that darkness in the soul.”
That’s when fighting and the Local 40 Ironworkers union in New York entered his life – and there was light.
A foundation rebuilt
Structure wasn’t just what Drago was helping build through his day job. It was what was being added back into his being, injected into his mind, body and soul.
“(Iron working) has just been an absolute blessing in my life,” Drago said. “I didn’t want to let go of fighting. But I also really loved ironworking. It’s not a question of how are you able to ironwork and fight. The real question is, ‘How bad do you want to do this?’ It doesn’t matter what the situation or circumstances may be. I’m a firm believer and I’ve always told people, ‘If you put your mind to something, you can do it – anything.’ In that sense, did it save my life? I don’t know if it saved me life. Maybe I would’ve found something else. But I think that nothing in God’s world happens by mistake. It gave me something to work toward. By working toward it, it gave me a life beyond my wildest dreams.”
Don’t get it twisted. His days weren’t sunshine and rainbows. It would be the intensest of grinds for even the most straight-edge person, never mind someone in the early stages of recovery. Every day, Drago would wake up at 7 a.m. and sometimes work until 5 p.m., before a conditioning workout and a sparring session.
“I remember talking to people like, ‘Bro, you have no idea the isolation I go through.’ It was a rough period of time,” Drago said. “But there was no wife back then. There was no house. I was still an amateur. It was kind of wild, just going through all those motions. … It was like seven years in the fight career and kept doing what that guy was doing day-in and day-out for years, still doing the fight camps. I stared death in the face every day, man. This is not some local construction job. Local 40 is the apex predator of construction.”
For the past year and a half, Drago has stepped away from being an active member of the union – but only temporarily. He’ll be back. He’s just pursuing this MMA thing in the meantime.
The next episode
Tuesday’s episode will represent a lot of things for Drago. It’ll show what hard work makes possible.
“Before I walk into that cage and before those doors open, I ask myself a simple question: ‘Did I do everything I could to prepare for this fight?’ The answer is yes,” Drago said. “What’s meant to happen happens after that.”
A win will further serve as validation for all of the important people in his life who helped support him during his darkest times and provided structure to the light. His mother. His wife. His family and friends. LAW MMA. Local 40 Ironworkers. The list goes on.
But perhaps the most powerful and important presence Drago will feel in the UFC Apex will be a spirit. Someone unable to physically be in attendance, but who will have more of an impact on his performance than anyone else.
“If my father was here, which is one of the biggest… I wouldn’t say letdowns… but something I missed out on,” Drago said. “If he was here just to see this opportunity, he would be the most ecstatic human being that you can meet. He was the UFC before the UFC was a thought. He was just a tough street guy. He’d give the shirt off his back to anybody. We have very similar stories. I dream of just f*cking putting this kid out and looking into the camera, like, ‘Dad, we did it.'”
“That’s what I see earning the UFC contract is to me, is that’s ‘Look how far you come.’ You want to talk about beating the f*cking odds? I beat the f*cking odds,” Drago said. “It’s just another moment in the journey I get to look back on. I truly believe my father is with me – win, lose, fail, no matter what. I truly believe I’m in the care of him, no matter what. But to win that contract and look back at this journey, it would mean everything to me, honestly.”
