The main strip of Virginia Beach along the ocean was deserted — a ghost town without a car in sight, where hotel vacancy signs shined hopelessly on a cold night in November. But it was another story inside the fourth-floor ballroom of the Surfside Inn. Beer flowed, the heavy beat of hip hop rocked and a crowd gathered around a regulation boxing ring set up in the middle of the room.
After all, it was fight night: an amateur “no-holds-barred” martial arts tournament that takes place every three months, called “King of the Ring.” A pleasant woman in a sweatshirt tended the door, with a metal box stuffed with cash in front of her on a fold-out table, right next to a local police officer. Tickets ranged from $20 for sitting in a folding chair to $50 for a seat in the overlooking balcony with the VIPs.
"No hold barred," sometimes called "submission fighting", "extreme fighting," or "mixed martial arts," is not as brutal as its name implies. It is no longer underground and has battled its way to popularity.
"It's always nice," one local fan, 23-year-old Chris Honeycutt, pointed out as he watched a couple of lightweights, "to see some guys pound each other."
In an era when even an NBA game in Detroit can devolve into a real no-holds-barred fracas, he may have a point. After all, maybe that explains the endless replays of Friday night's basketball brawl. There, though, the punches were a sideshow to the main event, while in Virginia Beach, the fighting was the central point.
It was a humble place, but the promoters strove for ambience. The lights dimmed, a cloud of smoke burst from the smoke machine, and then the strobes seared the ring as the announcer called out the fighters' names.
In a typical battle, Joey Allen, a local from Virginia Beach with a build as wiry as a car antenna, was waiting in the makeshift "locker room." In reality, that was the hotel kitchen, with its brushed stainless steel refrigerator and giant gas ranges and cutting boards. When his name was called, he came out with his coach and supporters through the heavy swinging doors.
The other fighter, a U.S. Marine named Will Loushine down from Quantico had come upstairs in the hotel elevators from his room stripped to his fighting shorts and already wearing his gloves.
In the ring they squared off and angled toward each other like crabs on a beach heading for a strip of fish. They wore nothing but shorts and small leather gloves that cover their knuckles but allow them to grab. They started cautiously jabbing and they grabbed each other, and suddenly they fell hard to the mat, still slamming each other, and wrestled, Allen on top, slamming his fist down on the Marine's face like a hammer. Still, he was unable to get any leverage behind the blows.
‘I'll come again’
"Good job," shouted Jennifer Millner, as Allen mashed the Marine's face with his palm, "Go, Joey!" She's a local woman who found herself at one of these tournaments for the first time. Blonde, wearing a white turtleneck and sipping a beer, she is a far cry from the stereotype some might imagine of a fan raving for the sight of blood. She drives a UPS truck for a living, and she's just a friend of the fighter. "I've known him since he was two or three years old,” she said. "I used to work for his grandparents." Is the fight too gruesome for her? "No, I'll come again."
In the ring, the Marine moved his hand to protect his face, and that left his ribcage open. Allen started thwacking the exposed torso, with short blows, each strike a loud crack like a bat hitting a ball, clear enough to hear over the audience catcalls.
Still, in spite of the ferocity, modern-day "no holds barred" fights have rules. Section L of the mixed martial arts rulebook lists the "illegal techniques," which include "head butts," "biting" "eye gouging or fish hooking," "groin strikes", "hair pulling."
This sort of fighting, in the United States, at least, started in 1993. By now most Americans have heard of the Ultimate Fighting Championships. Critics used to call it "human cockfighting," but the sport evolved. Now there are rounds and weight divisions. Opposition never had much traction. A few states banned it, but most permit the matches and regulate them like boxing. By now, the fights are even available for rent on the recent release sections at video stores.
The King of the Ring, here in Virginia Beach, was a far cry from all that. It's like your local softball game compared to the Yankees and the Red Sox in the World Series. In fact the Marine and Allen scrapped and panted for free. They do it to prove they've got skill, they do it to prove they can take the punishment, and they do to prove they've got game.
I only learned about this event because I was working out myself at Maguilla Brazilian Jiu Jitsu Academy in Maryland. And one of my fellow students, Vlaja Varsilis, from Georgia, the former Soviet republic, was competing. Vlaja, a pleasant and cheerful 27-year-old built of solid muscle, can barely speak enough English to read an exit sign.
Vlaja's fight was quick. First he dove in and tried to tackle his opponent, and then when that didn't work he came in swinging like a helicopter's rotor. He knocked his opponent out in 18 seconds, and then when the guy seemed to take a while getting off the canvas Vlaja leaned over in concern.
Still, his opponent stood up unsteadily and recovered, and the referee held Vlaja's hand up.
‘Most of these guys are egomaniacs’
At the King of the Ring, the event's promoter was William Varner, a fit-looking man in a white polo shirt who sat at a round table right next to the action. He runs a local martial arts school, although he himself has never fought.
"I'm 41 now, but the state frowns on anyone doing this kind of thing over the age of 35, because there is a high risk," he said. Why do the fighters compete? "Some guys do it for one time just to test themselves," he said, "and then they get on with their lives." A lot of it has to do with pride. "Most of these guys are egomaniacs — a lot of them are." he laughed.
Varner says there have been injuries, although they are rare. He doesn't count knockouts. "I don't consider that an injury. If the doctor passes them in their post-fight medical, then that's not really an injury. They check their eyes, make sure they don't get a concussion."
One team that has been sending fighters to his events consistently has been the U.S. Marine Corps. "They've been getting better," he said, although their performance this time was weak. "They won one out of five, but before this event they've been doing very well. They developed their own martial arts system, and this is an arena they can test it."
Varner makes sure to point out that the sport is not as violent as it's portrayed. "These guys are skilled," he said. Still, the event, indeed, the whole sport has an underground aura about it, even if it isn't underground at all.
Promoters like Varner often try to walk a careful line. On the one hand, they want to insist it's as safe as bumper cars so they don't get accused of running death matches or a real life "Fight Club." They insist this has a better safety record than boxing and point out that even hockey is more brutal. Still, they don't want to lose their edge. Professional fights go by the names "Rumble on the Rock," or "Super Brawl" or "Final Conflict,"
Andrew Smith, a martial artist who runs a no-holds-barred Web site, says the sport is safer than boxing, but suffered from promoters’ trying to sell tickets back in the early days in the 1990's. "They'd say 'Anything can happen, even death.' What they were saying was, 'Come see the freak show.'"
Boxing called ‘far more dangerous’
It's another story now, he says, as the sport has developed. "The fights going on now are between world class athletes. In mixed martial arts I'm not going to say there are no injuries but there are not that many compared to other contact sports." Boxing, he says, "is far more dangerous."
Still, he says, as this sport gets safer, "people will always push the envelope. They always want something more."
Most recently, bare-knuckle matches have been appearing on the Internet, hard-core brawls with no referee, no ring and plenty of blood. The newest phenomenon on the Internet is a backyard brawler named Kimbo Slice, who fights in matches without regulations.
And on the mixed martial arts chatrooms, Smith says, "Everybody's talking about it. That's all they are talking about pretty much."
Aram Roston is an investigative producer for NBC News based in Washington.
