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I
have always been something of a pacifist, attempting to
allow my mouth to do the work some others save for their
fists.Excepting cartoons and Tarantino movies, I’ve
always eschewed violence. So it was with a great sense
of irony that I accepted the challenge of covering last
Thursday’s amateur boxing night at the Wild Horse
Saloon. These fights happen every third Thursday of the
month and are put on by a company out of Denver called
Knockout Events. Armed with my pen and notebook, about
10 bucks for beer, and a truckload of preconceived notions,
I set off to see what all the fuss was about.
Apparently the fight
promoters were having trouble filling the evening’s
card because even though I arrived fashionably late, the
festivities were not yet under way.My buddy Steve passed
the time by getting his boots polished (not a thing one
can do just anywhere) by an older gent named Pops while
the DJ tried in vain to goad guys in the audience into
boxing one of the scantily-clad ring girls.Instead, the
girls writhed in the ring to rap music. Occasionally,
some guy would hoot suggestively.
Finally, there were enough
fighters signed up, and the evening’s first pugilists,
wearing 30-ounce gloves, took to the ring. Consisting
of three, one-minute rounds, these fights are too short
for any real damage to be done. But three minutes is certainly
enough time to get one’s bell rung, which is exactly
what happened to the wiry Benny.Fighting pretty evenly
against a more compact guy named Steve (I called the first
two rounds a split), Benny eventually got backed into
a corner in the latter part of the third, and Steve let
fly with a series of crushing blows to the head that made
a few people in the crowd gasp and, curiously, many more
roar with enthusiasm. Steve won the fight and was rewarded
with what Knockout Events headman Shane Swartz later referred
to as “this retarded little belt.”
Before each fight, the
contestants could be seen ringside going through their
individual pre-fight routines.One guy was jumping rope
and doing crunches; another was staring at nothing and
drinking a Red Bull; yet another had his buddy screaming
in his ear “You’re a madman. You’re
crazy. You’re a killer!”At some point everyone
went through his or her version of shadow boxing –
ducking and weaving, jabbing and poking. Some were better
than others, but all were at least proficient.
In the ring, though,
it was a completely different story. As soon as the first
punch landed, we may as well have been out in the alley.All
boxing theory was tossed aside in favor of give-it-all-you’ve-got
one-timers and wild, off-balance haymakers that rarely
landed.A0 Such a transformation, I assumed, was the natural
result of not being accustomed to being punched in the
face.
The second fight pitted
Tom, a local pizza-maker and longtime martial arts artist,
against Steve, a member of the Durango police squad. When
it came to size, the two were pretty evenly matched, and
it seemed their backgrounds were similar.I know most of
the martial arts are based on a defensive type of fighting,
and I assume that police are taught similar methods of
engagement. I expected a cautious fight with each fighter
waiting for an opening.Both clad in blue jeans, these
two guys came straight at each other from the first bell.During
the first two rounds I counted a total of two total body
punches and somewhere around 30 head shots. Truth told,
I suspect the two body blows were just misguided shots
intended for the head.However, this fight gave us something
the crowd really loved: the night’s first, and only,
blood, which erupted from Tom’s nose. Just before
his bout, I’d asked him why he was going to hop
in the ring. He shrugged his shoulders and said “for
fun.” It didn’t look like he was having a
heck of a lot of fun standing up there with blood pouring
out of his face while the other guy got a belt.
Maybe it was the blood
or maybe it was the beer, but the crowd took on a whole
new life after the second fight. During the third fight,
audience members began yelling insults at the fighters
and encouraging one to kill the other.When, during the
second round, the two exhausted combatants locked up,
one juiced-up crowd member yelled to the fighters “get
off him, queer!”Just to be safe, I made a quick
note of the nearest exit.The next few brawls proved to
be more of the same: guys going straight for each other’s
heads hoping to land that one punch that would send the
other guy sprawling.
Next, my attention turned
to the action between rounds.Three ring girls, Becca,
Heather and Lindsey, took turns carrying an enormous card
around the ring indicating the upcoming round. Egged on
mostly by the DJ and partially by the crowd, they took
turns trying to outdo one another’s dirty-dance
style as they passed around the ring.Eventually, this
turned into them giving the referee short lap dances as
they passed him. Later, I learned the three of them were
locals not hired by the promoter and not being paid.
Eventually, we came to
the highlight of the night: a no-holds-barred, ultimate
fighting contest.In ultimate fighting, contestants wear
the barest of gloves and no shoes, and engage in unorthodox
fighting practices such as kicking and gouging, which
are not only allowed but encouraged. As the fighters were
introduced, it became obvious that we were in for something.These
guys were true fighters, not just bored college kids.
They were lean, mean and looked like they could do a little
damage.
In the end, about three
or four punches were landed during the minute-and-a-half
match, most of which was spent with the fighters locked
up on the mat. Afterwards, people I spoke to said the
fight was “awesome” and “killer”
and “really action,” so I guess I must have
missed something.
Bayfield resident and
ultimate fighting nonwinner Dan Cyr, who had never fought
like this before and who was only fighting because someone
asked him to, said he would not do such a thing again.
I went to the fights
hoping to learn something about why people fight. What
is that thing that causes men and women (oh, yes there
was a ladies bout) to willingly get in a ring in front
of hundreds and get punched in the face? Hoping for answers
I asked everyone I met.Durango resident Steve Gardenas,
winner of the first bout, gave me the typical fighter’s
response: “I don’t know, I just love the competition.”When
I reminded another fighter that Chinese Checkers also
can be competitive, and no one ever got punched in the
face playing Chinese Checkers, he just laughed.Gardenas
plans to follow Knockout Events as it goes around Colorado
and into Nebraska with hopes of eventually fighting in
the national Toughman Competitions.
The audience was no more
help.When asked why she was there, 21-year-old college
student, Jenelle said, “I just love violence, I
love seeing people get (beaten) up.”Fight promoter,
Shane Swartz,said he sees people like Gardenas who want
to advance in the fighting world all the time but insists
only around one in 500 actually do. He also gave me the
most satisfying answer to my question of the night. Why
boxing?
“It’s
about the weirdness of humanity,” he said
(mouse over photos for captions)
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