It's Fight Night - with a legal expectation for blood
Tonight is fight night. Apparently that’s what it’s called when MMA(mixed martial arts) and large crowds come together with a legal expectation for blood. Tonight it's fight night in Philadelphia – the settlement turned city named by William Penn as Delphi(city) of Brotherly Love.
I decided to pick up a couple of local papers this week and read about, what for many, must be a phenomenon considering the large crowds and publicity it is drawing. And after doing so, the question lingers: entertaining…drawing…phenomenal even, but why?
What I read was not very shocking. It was rather sterile actually. And questionably so. The first paper’s story was gritty, contained as much cursing as you hear in “average” conversation these days, and besides the mention of a man’s eyes rolling back into his head as he went limp and sunk to the ground, really did not say much of anything about the gore and blood you might expect to hear of when men are contracted to pummel each other into submission or unconsciousness, in a cage for an evening. The story focused on the rise in popularity of the fights locally and one man’s quest to make it so. The second paper had a “centerfold match-by-match breakdown’ to draw readers and gave some details about the fighters lives outside the cage. As well as some of their motivations for fighting and their views about ‘the sport’. One man turned to fighting in place of being a school teacher. Another described a recent victory like being on top of the world.
And then there’s the glory of it. And the business. One fighter was described as a devout Christian. Why it was important to mention that and not the religious beliefs of any of the other 21 fighters may be an indication that Christians still pose a significant point of resistance to tap-outs getting on-tap for mainstream, primetime consumption. The irony by way of comparison – that Christians were once witnesses to Eternal Life in their quiet, peaceful bravery while being fed to lions in Roman combat arenas is staggering.
If there’s one thing that is becoming lost upon an increasingly cynical and hard-hearted generation of people, it is the ability, or the willingness, to perceive by way of irony, its own tragedies. Like the Jews who days before had welcomed Christ into Jerusalem with shouts of Hosanna, only to raise a few short days later the deafening cry of “crucify him” in his own ears.
Near the end, the story seeks to clear up a few misconceptions: the fighting arena is called an ogtagon, a cage, but never a ring. Fighters aren’t allowed to headbutt each other. And, although widely condemned as being uncivilized, there haven’t been any fatalities during the matches with some kind of official oversight in the United States, to date. The level of sophistication and technical knowledge in the sport’s rules are meant to ensure the fighters remain safe.
You know, I don’t recall hearing about anyone that actually died from torture at Guantanamo Bay.
I suppose the technical expertise of the torturer ensured that the lives of their victims would be prolonged – as long as their exchanging oxygen for CO2 in their cage, uh, cell, remained useful to their captors.
Dead prisoners don’t tell secrets.
Dead headliners don’t fill seats.
At least not in the US. Not out in the public. Not on pay-per-view.
Not yet anyway.
upfromthedust.wordpress.com/2011/08/06/fight-night-with-a-legal-expectation-for-blood
