Islam Makhachev defeated Ian Machado Garry on Saturday night to break the UFC’s consecutive win record, and the sports world erupted in the kind of celebration usually reserved for astronauts returning from Mars. Twenty-five consecutive victories. The commentators spoke in hushed, reverent tones. Analysts spent six hours dissecting the footwork patterns. Social media declared him the greatest combat athlete of all time.
Meanwhile, at SaveMart on 5th Avenue, produce manager Derek Chen suffered his eighteenth consecutive loss this month—a shipment of organic heirloom tomatoes arrived overripe, forcing him to mark down an entire pallet. No ESPN crew showed up. No one interviewed his technique. His manager simply sighed, made a note in the system, and moved on.
The contrast is instructive. We obsess over Makhachev’s consistency because consistency in combat sports is genuinely rare—it requires a specific blend of talent, discipline, and opponents willing to step into the cage. But Derek’s streak? That requires waking up at 4 a.m., navigating supplier logistics, managing temperature-controlled storage, and accepting that half the produce industry is fundamentally broken. His losses are structural. Makhachev’s victories are personal.
Yet only one of them gets a highlight reel. Only one gets sponsorship deals. Only one gets called the best in the world at what he does.
Makhachev deserves his record. But somewhere in a fluorescent-lit supermarket, Derek Chen is also undefeated at showing up.