LAS VEGAS -- The way in which Francis Ngannou describes his first UFC title fight -- a 25-minute decision loss to Stipe Miocic in January -- is almost heartbreaking.
Ngannou, of Cameroon, was favored to defeat Miocic at UFC 220, but he ran into trouble by the second round. He looked tired and incapable of stopping Miocic's takedowns.
The final three rounds looked more like a wrestling clinic by Miocic than a heavyweight championship fight.
"It was like seeing your dream run through your fingers," Ngannou told ESPN. "I could feel it."
Although he survived all five rounds, did part of him accept defeat in the waning moments of that loss? Surely, it must have felt at times that victory was out of reach, right?
"No. Every time I felt like, 'Yes, I can win this fight,'" Ngannou said. "My body wasn't working, but I said, 'I know if I can connect, I can win this.' So that's what kept me up. I knew I could still win."
For Ngannou (11-2), who takes on Derrick Lewis this weekend at UFC 226, this is his greatest trait, not his elite speed or terrifying punching power.
His fighting career and entire life, in fact, have been shaped by the power of his belief.
"I think it is my gift; it's always what pushed me," Ngannou said. "Even in the hardest situation I ever did, I believed it would happen. I don't know why, but I knew it was going to happen."
Ngannou's general background -- from the sand mines of Cameroon to the streets of Paris to a UFC title run -- is relatively well-known. Many are at least somewhat aware of the challenges he's overcome.
That said, the details of how he became a homeless man in Paris, initially to chase a boxing career, are not widely known. The details of a solo 14-month trek from Cameroon to Paris, dodging immigration agencies along the way.
"Fourteen months in hell," as Ngannou describes it.
He left Cameroon in his mid-20s without telling family and friends beforehand. He had no hope of securing a visa, so he became one of the hundreds of thousands of Africans to attempt to migrate to Europe without one.
"I just decided to go one day," Ngannou recalls. "I took my bag and said, 'I'm leaving.' I didn't say bye to my family, because when you are going to say bye, they are going to say, 'Where are you going?' You are supposed to give them a destination, but I didn't know myself. I couldn't give them nothing.
"I don't know if I'm going to survive or not. I don't know how long before I would be back, or if I ever would be back. But I did know one thing for sure: I had to try."
Ngannou's journey did not end until the Red Cross "took us in the middle of the sea," a memory he refers to as "a long story" and one that he is not excited to revisit. He says he might write a book on that part of his life someday.
If he ever does, it's sure to be some book. Memories of hiding in forests from immigration, being thrown back into the desert, realizing the doors leading back to Cameroon were closed behind, and finally reaching Paris.
Ngannou, who now lives in Las Vegas, visited Cameroon earlier this year, after the loss to Miocic.
He had hoped to take a UFC belt with him but says the country celebrated him nevertheless. He had to cover his car windows at times to avoid throngs of fans.
He wants to help his country, so he is building the Francis Ngannou Foundation, which includes plans for a gym for African youth. Looking back on the path he's taken to pursue a dream, it's no wonder a 25-minute loss in the UFC didn't break him.
"This is the main issue on that side of the world," Ngannou said. "People easily quit their dream because it's not easy.
"I am building a foundation in Cameroon, and it's not just about the sport. The goal of the foundation is not to make a UFC fighter. It's to help kids believe in their dream, to have a dream, to have a purpose in life.
"Born and raised there, I know what the main problem is in that community. People don't allow themselves to dream. They quit their dream and say, 'Whatever happens will happen.'"