My first cage fight

Bay City, Mich. — The cage fight crowd isn’t quite what I imagined.

You have your typical “good ol’ boys,” clad in plaid and Bud Light in hand, taking frequent smoke breaks outside. Then you have your “cage girls,” who walk around with their boobs hanging out and wearing Lucite stripper heels, trying to hit on the cage fighters who have more testosterone than Sylvester Stallone.

But there are also a few “normal” people at the event — screaming at the top of their lungs, waiting for the next fighter to make his opponent bleed.

Saturday, I went to Mount Clemens’ Emerald Theatre to watch the extreme fighter championship rock ’em-sock ’em robot show (the real title of the show was something equally ridiculous), since a friend of mine from the Bay City Times thought we should cover a local fighter.

After standing at will-call in the freezing cold (not quite Coast Guard cold, but freezing nonetheless) and waiting for our VIP tickets, I stepped into the theater’s ballroom and was immediately swept with a wave of shouts and XCC t-shirts. There were dozens of fighters of various sizes — from the guy who looked more like a runty beanpole to the 6-foot-5 Army veteran.

I interviewed our subject, and then mingled with the rest of the fighters in the preparation area. There were water bottles scattered everywhere, bloody towels laying on the ground (biohazard much?) and a random 10-year-old wandering around. Apparently taking your kid to a cage fight is OK these days? My parents missed that memo — and I’m kind of glad they did.

I moseyed over closer to the cage itself. The area reeked like sweat and glistened from the amount of perspiration that collected on the floor in between fights. I crouched as I watched dude after dude beat the living crap out of each other, wondering WHY THE HECK YOU WOULD WANT TO DO THAT.

I went back to the fighters’ preparation floor and flat-out asked one trainer just why he thinks cage fighting is, well, even legal.

Apparently, he’s heard the question a lot. He told me that boxing and high school football are much more brain damaging sports, but in cage fighting, if you get hurt, you can tag out immediately without bearing continuous hits to the head.

Hmm.

The other misconception about cage fighters is that they’re all testosterone-crazed ’roidheads who beat their girlfriends and work construction. I’ll be the first to admit I was totally wrong there.

Every cage fighter I met was a complete gentleman, had his life figured out and (to my knowledge) wasn’t some criminal on the loose. A lot of times, I admit, I have stereotypes about certain groups of people, and it’s a total relief to realize I’m wrong.

All in all, the event was just as violent as I thought it would be, but wasn’t as ridiculously weird as I expected.

Cage fighting has some of the most dedicated fans in the world, and like watching a soccer (futbol!) game in Argentina, being around so many high-energy people is always fun.

I don’t expect to attend another cage fight anytime soon, but I won’t completely write off everything associated with them.