Fanshier
12-20-2005, 11:16 PM
http://www.sacbee.com/content/sports/story...-14833284c.html (http://www.sacbee.com/content/sports/story/14000082p-14833284c.html)
Welcome, cage brawlers
The state is about to sanction ultimate fighting, but sport's critics are outraged.
By Melody Gutierrez -- Bee Staff Writer
Published 2:15 am PST Tuesday, December 20, 2005
Story appeared on Page A1 of The Bee
COARSEGOLD - Urijah Faber calls himself the "California Kid" when he climbs into the cage as an ultimate fighter. His job is to choke, punch, strike or elbow an opponent into submission within three five-minute rounds.
It's a career he's paid for in blood and bruises. His only defeat cost him seven staples in his head.
Ultimate fighting - also known as cage fighting or mixed martial arts - is spurring interest and outrage as it moves from the smoky netherworld of unsanctioned backroom brawls and loosely regulated Indian casinos to formal recognition by California authorities. The state will give its blessing, effective Dec. 28.
The California State Athletic Commission, which oversees professional boxing and martial arts, agreed in November to sanction ultimate fighting, which it prefers to call mixed martial arts because the term ultimate fighting is associated with Ultimate Fighting Championship, one of several promoters of the sport.
The decision gives the cages legitimacy - and raises concerns among critics who believe ultimate fighting hardly qualifies as a sport.
Faber needed no formal approval to stoke his interest in ultimate fighting. The former standout wrestler at the University of California, Davis, has a degree in human development but prefers to earn up to $6,000 per fight with the promise of higher paydays.
"For my weight class, some of the higher-paid guys get $60,000 (per fight) in Japan," said Faber, 26, who weights 145 pounds. "In the near future it will probably be more than that."
Big purses are not worth the price ultimate fighting extracts from its participants, critics say. The American Medical Association is among those critics. AMA board member Dr. Peter Carmel said it's difficult to condone - medically or morally - a sport whose aim is to incapacitate an opponent.
Carmel, a neurosurgeon, said he has a hard time seeing any sportsmanship in ultimate fighting.
"I'm intrigued by the popularity of the sport," Carmel said. "I don't know what that says about our society. I have no doubt if we bring back lions and Christians we would fill coliseums. I'm surprised we don't draw the line."
The outcome of ultimate fights is most troubling for critics such as Carmel and U.S. Sen. John McCain, R-Ariz., who in the 1990s referred to ultimate fighting as "barbaric" and "human cockfighting."
McCain's disapproval threatened to drive ultimate fighting off TV. In 2001, new promoters stepped in with the promise of cleaning up the sport. Weight classes, time limits, gloves and mouthpieces were among the things added.
But that's not enough, says Carmel.
"Do I see a future in it for the entrepreneurs?" Carmel asked. "Oh yeah. It's a brilliant future. Do I think these men in this sport have a future? It's bleak."
Moments before his fight at the Chukchansi Gold Resort and Casino, northeast of Fresno, Faber displays no reluctance.
Cruising down the small walkway as he's cheered by several hundred fans, Faber is focused on the cage in the center of the room.
His task this night is to pummel Charles "Crazy Horse" Bennett who, of course, hopes to deliver the same fate to Faber in the title fight.
The men are soon grappling. With limbs interlocked they roll around while the audience roars. With 12 seconds left in the first round, the California Kid pins Crazy Horse in a chokehold.
Faber improved his record to 10 victories with one loss.
"It's unbelievable how much this sport has grown," Faber said. "It's just blown up."
Ultimate fighting appears to appeal to boxing purists as well as wrestling fans enthralled by theatrical mayhem. While boxing audiences traditionally have been mostly male skewing toward middle age and pro wrestling has targeted teenagers and even families, ultimate fighting seeks a crossover.
"We've got to have some excitement and violence in our lives, too," said Leeann Corbaley, 67, of Bass Lake, before the eight fights on the card featuring Faber's bout.
The state approval promises to bring those aspects, for better or worse, to arenas across California. The financial incentive for promoters is significant. The Dec. 11 show featuring Faber quickly sold out. The audience was overwhelmingly male, but the ages were spread across the spectrum.
"It's not a bunch of lowlifes coming here," said 63-year-old Claus Erlemann, who retired from the Los Angeles County Sheriff's Department and now lives in Bass Lake. "There are professional people here, too."
Erlemann attended the fight with his wife, Susan, and two neighbors. He said he has watched ultimate fighting on TV for several years and was excited when he heard Chukchansi casino, which opened in 2003, would be hosting a fight.
Dana White, president of Ultimate Fighting Championship, the premier brand name of the sport, has referred to it as the new generation's boxing.
"Boxing has become your father's sport," White told USA Today.
Ultimate fighting had an underground appeal before the UFC went mainstream with a reality show on Spike TV called "The Ultimate Fighter." The show saw its average audience grow to nearly 2 million viewers during its 13-week run, according to Nielsen Media Research.
As ultimate fighting's popularity increases, there are at least 20 states that still don't sanction it.
The California State Athletic Commission licenses boxers, trainers and promoters, and strives to maintain neurological records in a sport where in past generations there was less concern for concussions or other possibly life-threatening injuries.
Before California decided to sanction the sport, ultimate fighting was conducted in places where there were few if any rules, such as Indian casinos, where state and federal agencies do not have jurisdiction. Colusa Casino and Konocti Vista Casino in Lake County have staged Gladiator Challenges and King of the Cage events.
Soon the tribal casinos could have competition from venues such as Arco Arena. Athletic Commission Executive Officer Armando Garcia said there will be major Las Vegas-style events in the sport throughout California as soon as March.
"It's a growing sport that is becoming very popular," Garcia said.
Public demand is one reason Garcia was determined to sanction ultimate fighting when he began his job in June.
Garcia said he believes official involvement will address medical issues raised by critics and make ultimate fighting safer. Regulation means fewer fights in unsafe conditions, he said.
"California is such a big state it's hard to regulate," he said. "What's scary about those (unregulated) events is that you don't know what kind of medical staff they have on the scene. It's reckless. It's about safety."
Carmel said he doesn't believe official sanctioning can remove the inherent dangers of ultimate fighting. He said it's "only a matter of time" before life-threatening injuries occur.
For Faber, who continues to participate in bouts that pay him several thousand dollars each, he says there is plenty of time to think about what he'll do when the cage door closes on his ultimate-fighting career. He thinks about opening a gym and training other fighters.
For now, he's enjoying the limelight as he makes more and more money for each fight.
He doesn't dwell on his lone defeat, when he continued fighting for 11 minutes after his head was split open on a metal bar that wasn't properly padded.
"It kept bleeding into my hair," he said. "I looked like a redhead at the end of the fight."
The better-known fighters can earn $200,000 for a fight, while beginners tend to make as little as $100 to enter the cage, Faber said.
The money doesn't add up for Faber's mom, who once tried to pay him not to fight.
"My mom hates it," he said. "I didn't tell her when I first started doing it."
Beyond the money, the attraction of ultimate fighting is basic to Faber.
"I make a living and it's a lot better than a desk job," he said.
ULTIMATE FIGHTING
Ultimate fighting combines boxing, jujitsu, karate, judo, kickboxing and wrestling. Different promoters have different time lengths for matches, but most often matches last 10-15 minutes. States that regulate it: Arizona, Arkansas, Colorado, Florida, Georgia, Idaho, Iowa, Louisiana, Massachusetts, Mississippi, Nevada, New Jersey, New Mexico, Ohio, Oklahoma, Oregon, Texas, Utah and Washington.
Information provided by Stateline.org
Welcome, cage brawlers
The state is about to sanction ultimate fighting, but sport's critics are outraged.
By Melody Gutierrez -- Bee Staff Writer
Published 2:15 am PST Tuesday, December 20, 2005
Story appeared on Page A1 of The Bee
COARSEGOLD - Urijah Faber calls himself the "California Kid" when he climbs into the cage as an ultimate fighter. His job is to choke, punch, strike or elbow an opponent into submission within three five-minute rounds.
It's a career he's paid for in blood and bruises. His only defeat cost him seven staples in his head.
Ultimate fighting - also known as cage fighting or mixed martial arts - is spurring interest and outrage as it moves from the smoky netherworld of unsanctioned backroom brawls and loosely regulated Indian casinos to formal recognition by California authorities. The state will give its blessing, effective Dec. 28.
The California State Athletic Commission, which oversees professional boxing and martial arts, agreed in November to sanction ultimate fighting, which it prefers to call mixed martial arts because the term ultimate fighting is associated with Ultimate Fighting Championship, one of several promoters of the sport.
The decision gives the cages legitimacy - and raises concerns among critics who believe ultimate fighting hardly qualifies as a sport.
Faber needed no formal approval to stoke his interest in ultimate fighting. The former standout wrestler at the University of California, Davis, has a degree in human development but prefers to earn up to $6,000 per fight with the promise of higher paydays.
"For my weight class, some of the higher-paid guys get $60,000 (per fight) in Japan," said Faber, 26, who weights 145 pounds. "In the near future it will probably be more than that."
Big purses are not worth the price ultimate fighting extracts from its participants, critics say. The American Medical Association is among those critics. AMA board member Dr. Peter Carmel said it's difficult to condone - medically or morally - a sport whose aim is to incapacitate an opponent.
Carmel, a neurosurgeon, said he has a hard time seeing any sportsmanship in ultimate fighting.
"I'm intrigued by the popularity of the sport," Carmel said. "I don't know what that says about our society. I have no doubt if we bring back lions and Christians we would fill coliseums. I'm surprised we don't draw the line."
The outcome of ultimate fights is most troubling for critics such as Carmel and U.S. Sen. John McCain, R-Ariz., who in the 1990s referred to ultimate fighting as "barbaric" and "human cockfighting."
McCain's disapproval threatened to drive ultimate fighting off TV. In 2001, new promoters stepped in with the promise of cleaning up the sport. Weight classes, time limits, gloves and mouthpieces were among the things added.
But that's not enough, says Carmel.
"Do I see a future in it for the entrepreneurs?" Carmel asked. "Oh yeah. It's a brilliant future. Do I think these men in this sport have a future? It's bleak."
Moments before his fight at the Chukchansi Gold Resort and Casino, northeast of Fresno, Faber displays no reluctance.
Cruising down the small walkway as he's cheered by several hundred fans, Faber is focused on the cage in the center of the room.
His task this night is to pummel Charles "Crazy Horse" Bennett who, of course, hopes to deliver the same fate to Faber in the title fight.
The men are soon grappling. With limbs interlocked they roll around while the audience roars. With 12 seconds left in the first round, the California Kid pins Crazy Horse in a chokehold.
Faber improved his record to 10 victories with one loss.
"It's unbelievable how much this sport has grown," Faber said. "It's just blown up."
Ultimate fighting appears to appeal to boxing purists as well as wrestling fans enthralled by theatrical mayhem. While boxing audiences traditionally have been mostly male skewing toward middle age and pro wrestling has targeted teenagers and even families, ultimate fighting seeks a crossover.
"We've got to have some excitement and violence in our lives, too," said Leeann Corbaley, 67, of Bass Lake, before the eight fights on the card featuring Faber's bout.
The state approval promises to bring those aspects, for better or worse, to arenas across California. The financial incentive for promoters is significant. The Dec. 11 show featuring Faber quickly sold out. The audience was overwhelmingly male, but the ages were spread across the spectrum.
"It's not a bunch of lowlifes coming here," said 63-year-old Claus Erlemann, who retired from the Los Angeles County Sheriff's Department and now lives in Bass Lake. "There are professional people here, too."
Erlemann attended the fight with his wife, Susan, and two neighbors. He said he has watched ultimate fighting on TV for several years and was excited when he heard Chukchansi casino, which opened in 2003, would be hosting a fight.
Dana White, president of Ultimate Fighting Championship, the premier brand name of the sport, has referred to it as the new generation's boxing.
"Boxing has become your father's sport," White told USA Today.
Ultimate fighting had an underground appeal before the UFC went mainstream with a reality show on Spike TV called "The Ultimate Fighter." The show saw its average audience grow to nearly 2 million viewers during its 13-week run, according to Nielsen Media Research.
As ultimate fighting's popularity increases, there are at least 20 states that still don't sanction it.
The California State Athletic Commission licenses boxers, trainers and promoters, and strives to maintain neurological records in a sport where in past generations there was less concern for concussions or other possibly life-threatening injuries.
Before California decided to sanction the sport, ultimate fighting was conducted in places where there were few if any rules, such as Indian casinos, where state and federal agencies do not have jurisdiction. Colusa Casino and Konocti Vista Casino in Lake County have staged Gladiator Challenges and King of the Cage events.
Soon the tribal casinos could have competition from venues such as Arco Arena. Athletic Commission Executive Officer Armando Garcia said there will be major Las Vegas-style events in the sport throughout California as soon as March.
"It's a growing sport that is becoming very popular," Garcia said.
Public demand is one reason Garcia was determined to sanction ultimate fighting when he began his job in June.
Garcia said he believes official involvement will address medical issues raised by critics and make ultimate fighting safer. Regulation means fewer fights in unsafe conditions, he said.
"California is such a big state it's hard to regulate," he said. "What's scary about those (unregulated) events is that you don't know what kind of medical staff they have on the scene. It's reckless. It's about safety."
Carmel said he doesn't believe official sanctioning can remove the inherent dangers of ultimate fighting. He said it's "only a matter of time" before life-threatening injuries occur.
For Faber, who continues to participate in bouts that pay him several thousand dollars each, he says there is plenty of time to think about what he'll do when the cage door closes on his ultimate-fighting career. He thinks about opening a gym and training other fighters.
For now, he's enjoying the limelight as he makes more and more money for each fight.
He doesn't dwell on his lone defeat, when he continued fighting for 11 minutes after his head was split open on a metal bar that wasn't properly padded.
"It kept bleeding into my hair," he said. "I looked like a redhead at the end of the fight."
The better-known fighters can earn $200,000 for a fight, while beginners tend to make as little as $100 to enter the cage, Faber said.
The money doesn't add up for Faber's mom, who once tried to pay him not to fight.
"My mom hates it," he said. "I didn't tell her when I first started doing it."
Beyond the money, the attraction of ultimate fighting is basic to Faber.
"I make a living and it's a lot better than a desk job," he said.
ULTIMATE FIGHTING
Ultimate fighting combines boxing, jujitsu, karate, judo, kickboxing and wrestling. Different promoters have different time lengths for matches, but most often matches last 10-15 minutes. States that regulate it: Arizona, Arkansas, Colorado, Florida, Georgia, Idaho, Iowa, Louisiana, Massachusetts, Mississippi, Nevada, New Jersey, New Mexico, Ohio, Oklahoma, Oregon, Texas, Utah and Washington.
Information provided by Stateline.org