All I knew going in was that MMA fights occur in cages, sitting close meant I could get sprayed with blood, and that crotch shots were not cool (turns out they are also illegal). The event included 9 matches, with a co-main event, so it had that going for it. Upon arrival, we learned one participant in one of the main events had "no showed" for his weigh in that day and would not be attending. Umm ok... I know this isn't MMA's Superbowl but it's kind of your job and your name IS being used to sell the event. Whatever, maybe this stuff just happens here.
We found our seats on the floor about 40 feet away from the cage and almost immediately the Man O' War PR guy sidled up to us and promised seats inside the "bike rack" by the start of the second match. The "bike rack" is the inner circle (10 feet from the cage) apparently cordoned off for VIP's who bring prostitutes and fighter's posses. Even A-rod would have had a problem lying about how well we fit in.
The first few fights were entertaining. We got a first round knockout and a first round submission in the first two fights, and I figured we'd be back in DC within the hour. Wrong. 
Apparently I wasn't an expert yet.
Apparently I wasn't an expert yet. The third match was a bout between two women, which would have made Title IX proud if the fight had received half of the attention that the ring girls were getting in between rounds. This was an interesting one because the underdog was horribly ugly, and the favorite was decent looking, plus you could see her underwear. Everyone loves an underdog, but doesn't everyone loves a hot chick even more? The women went three rounds of grind it out choke holds before a big upset for the uglier girl, but really everyone won since the hotter one spent most of the match with her red-pantied ass squished up against the fence. After that, a granola-y looking white boy who seemed to lack the bloodthirst I had determined was essential in winning, whooped the ass of a much fiercer looking guy. Apparently I wasn't an expert yet.
This marked the last match where we could be considered casual, estranged fans. We saw something we couldn't unsee, right in front of our faces, that would initiate us as MMA people. Fighter Ron Stalling's knee decimated Whisper Goodman's jaw and potentially lifetime motor skills. The knee met the jaw with uncanny crispness, and for a moment I was sure I had witnessed death. I was certain Whisper Goodman (a former Packer) was never getting back up. Ever. Apparently I wasn't an expert yet.
That click of his jaw and the thud of his momentarily lifeless body are sounds and images that are inescapable. It was surprisingly not like the highway crash you cant turn away from; we couldn't look as many (MANY!) trainers worked around him until he finally left.
In the meantime we are amusing ourselves as we sit behind a blogger for MMAOpinion.com who keeps minimizing his blog palette to reveal his laptop background screen of him and his wife posing prom-style in front of their Christmas tree. Laughter seemed to be the best medicine at the moment, unintentional comedy the maximum dosage. If you want to laugh more, check out our boy's recap of the event. And this guy had almost the highest credentials in the building.
The next couple fights were blurs, I was still a bit traumatized to watch attentively. We were also having fun discussing more unintentionally funny aspects of the night. In our discussion of entrance music we determined the best choice would be Steve Earle's "Way Down in the Hole", especially if you could immediately get the first high-hat cymbal notes of Blake Leyh's "The Fall" as soon as you finished off an opponent. Tell me that wouldn't get people to start taking you and your sport seriously. We also wondered about (read: made fun of) undercard wages, the evening's many sponsors, and the accuracy of the 6,248 attendance figure.
The co-main event matches lasted a combined three rounds (easy conversion- three yawns per round after the first) but the best fight of the night was the featherweight match, or as we called it, the jockey fight. Two men Kiefer Sutherland would have towered over were running and jumping and swinging away for three full rounds like a couple of hummingbirds pecking at each other. Our allegiances were originally with "The Pistol" because he entered to Sinatra's "My Way" but were quickly wooed by his opponent, "The Magician." I wish I could tell you it was due to his propensity for crazy jump punches and jump kicks, but those were just icing on the cake after he tweaked his nipples before the starting bell. What did we leave thinking? The MMA, its tweak-tastic!
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