‘Ultimate Fighting’ Seeks State’s OK to Move Out of the Shadows

Among the items threatened by California’s budget crisis is a little-known proposal that would bring to the state a sport that detractors have called “human cockfighting.”

A volatile mix of wrestling, kick-boxing and martial arts popularly known as “ultimate fighting,” the sport is a hit with crowds in Las Vegas and on pay-per-view television.

A match in Las Vegas in November drew more than 13,000 spectators -- including celebrities such as actor Vin Diesel and former Dodger Steve Garvey -- who watched as two fighters pummeled each other with a frenetic mixture of punching, kicking, tackling and wrestling. The loser gave up after three punishing rounds.

Promoters have struggled for years to win official state recognition that would allow them to stage events in California.

They scored a victory last year when the California State Athletic Commission unanimously approved safety regulations for “mixed martial arts,” the sport’s official name.

But the Legislature has yet to allocate the $500,000 needed to enforce the regulations, a situation that is only exacerbated by California’s budget woes. The commission, which would earn revenue from the sport, will try again this year to get funding to hire officials who would enforce the regulations.

While the debate goes on, small matches have been staged on Indian reservations in Southern California, which aren’t governed by state laws.

And various forms of mixed martial arts fights occur regularly in small venues like the Ultimate Training Center in Huntington Beach. Closed-fist punches to the head, however, are prohibited in the Huntington Beach events.

A better glimpse of what could be in store for California if the sport is legalized was on view in Las Vegas.

The Nov. 22 fight at the MGM Grand Hotel & Casino -- the Ultimate Fighting Championship’s title bout between light-heavyweight champion Tito Ortiz of Huntington Beach and former champion Ken Shamrock of San Diego -- drew a 13,770-seat sellout. Three-fifths of the crowd came from California, organizers said.

Largely male, the crowd watched as fighters entered the arena to bouncing laser lights, pyrotechnics and pulsating rock ‘n’ roll.

Sporting his signature peroxide-blond buzz, Ortiz jogged down the ramp waving an American flag on one side, a Mexican flag on the other. His black T-shirt taunted, “I Killed Kenny!” Shamrock, already in the ring, glowered.

Ultimate fighting has a reputation as a no-holds-barred pummeling contest.

Promoters say they have cleaned up the sport by establishing rules, weight classes and other restrictions. And Rob Lynch, the commission’s executive director, said he hopes sanctioning will prevent injuries that occur in underground matches.

“We think it should be regulated,” Lynch said. “You get someone who’s overzealous, or a referee who doesn’t know what they’re doing, you could kill someone.”

There is no organized opposition to extreme fighting gaining a foothold in California, but some say they are concerned about the prospect. “Since we would like boxing prohibited, we would not support creating a new sport that does the same thing,” said Peter Warren, California Medical Assn. spokesman. “It’s a violent and dangerous sport.”

Launched in 1993 as a one-time, pay-per-view spectacle, the first Ultimate Fighting Championship match featured such contests as a 620-pound sumo wrestler against a 200-pound karate champion. The two faced off in an eight-sided fenced cage with no rules and no timeouts.

“It was freak-show stuff,” said Dana White, brought in as president of the UFC in 2001 to overhaul its image.

In 1996, after watching a tape of a UFC match, Sen. John McCain (R-Ariz.) was so disturbed that he sent letters to the nation’s governors asking them to ban ultimate fighting. A year later, as chairman of the Senate Commerce Committee, he urged the cable-TV industry to stop showing the fights.

The sport declined during this period. But in recent years, a more restrained version of ultimate fighting has emerged.

One die-hard fan was Lorenzo Fertitta, a former Nevada athletic commissioner who flew to Atlantic City, N.J., and New Orleans to watch the fights with his brother, Frank. When the UFC went up for sale in 2000, the brothers grabbed it.

“I was a regulator, and I knew what safety issues needed to be addressed,” Lorenzo Fertitta said. “I thought, ‘If we can control it, we can make changes that need to be made and make it legitimate.’ ”

Since then, the UFC has created weight classes and a raft of rules: no head-butting or eye-gouging, no throat strikes, no knees or kicks to the head, no holding the fence and no abusive language.

California’s rules also would regulate what happens in the ring -- and outside it. Fighters would undergo neurological exams and be tested for diseases, including HIV and hepatitis B and C. Fighters and promoters would be licensed. State-sanctioned doctors would be on hand for every fight.Workouts are about eight hours a day, seven days a week. There are no moves allowed anymore that aren’t allowed in other sports.

“Before every one of my fights, I cry and throw up, no matter what,” said Ortiz, 28, who grew up in the motels around Santa Ana.

He found salvation through a caring wrestling coach at Huntington Beach High School, where he graduated in 1993 and was an All-County selection after winning a Southern Section title. His first mixed martial arts fight was in 1997. He dropped his opponent in 21 seconds.

“There’s nothing like being in the ring. Everybody’s screaming and you step out there. When I fight in the [ring], I’m somebody else.”

At 9:05 on fight night, referee “Big John” McCarthy looked sternly at the fighters and said, “Fight hard, fight clean.”

By 9:20, Shamrock’s face looked like ground beef, his forehead distended with fist-sized welts. He had sprung repeatedly back to his feet from Ortiz’s immobilizing holds, but couldn’t take any more.

At the end of the third 5-minute round, Shamrock mouthed, “That’s it.”