FIGHT CLUB.

Byline: Mark Baker The Register-Guard

The punches rain down on Travis Stansbury's face like hard, heavy rain - rain with fists - pelting him one after another. They come so fast it almost looks like one of those old-time, black-and-white sports clips. The ones where everything's moving in a frenetic and fast motion. The only part that looks to be in slow motion is Stansbury's head, as it absorbs one blow after another, like a pumpkin waiting to cave.

The referee quickly calls the fight - one of 15 on May 13 at the Lane Events Center - as Stansbury's opponent, Roseburg's Jeremy Jones, vacates his position straddling Stansbury on the mat. But Stansbury is already out cold. He probably has been since the second or third punch. And the area around his left eye and the side of his head is already swelling.

Steve Pratt, a registered nurse at Sacred Heart Medical Center and the ringside medical personnel for this Pacific Coast Cage Fights event at the fairgrounds' Exhibit Hall, rushes into the cage to check on Stansbury. Eventually, the fighter is brought to his feet but cannot stand up on his own. His legs resemble two strands of wet spaghetti as he bobs to and fro while a trainer hangs on to his waist.

"That's what you wanna see - knockouts, right?" the ring announcer says after Stansbury and Jones exit the cage. The crowd roars approval.

Stansbury, from Yreka, Calif., spends the rest of the night in a back room - swearing about his quick demise and wincing in pain, with an ice bag held to his head.

Eight fights later, first-time fighter Ryan Loftin of Houston is quickly pummeled by James Dennis of Bend, who turns Loftin's face into a bloody mess. Pratt advises Loftin to go to an emergency room because he has facial cuts that will never heal on their own. It's not known if Loftin follows the advice.

Vicious brutality or a legitimate sport?

It's called "cage fighting," and it's becoming more and more popular in Lane County - with at least four events here in the past year and another one scheduled for Sept. 30 at the fairgrounds. Nationwide, cage combat, a "Fight Club" come up from underground, continues its resurgence even though it was banned in at least half the states in the country in the 1990s.

"It's the most technically and physically demanding sport in existence, I believe," says Jason Georgianna, a former cage fighter from Southern Oregon. Now a promoter living in Eugene, he runs Pacific Coast Cage Fights, which will be at the Linn County Fairgrounds on Saturday.

"It's the closest thing to a street fight there is. Who doesn't turn their head and watch a street fight?" Georgianna says.

The sport is popular with fight fans because it's unpredictable, not to mention that it happens in a cage, he says. "And we use little 4-inch gloves," Georgianna says. "When you hit someone, they bleed."

Unpaid, unregulated

Also known as mixed martial arts, ultimate fighting or extreme fighting, the sport allows fighters to use a combination of boxing, wrestling, kickboxing and martial arts as they battle inside an octagonal cage.

U.S. Sen. John McCain, R-Ariz., had another name for it a decade ago: "Human cockfighting."

The outcry by McCain, a lifelong boxing fan, led several states to ban the sport, according to a Sports Illustrated story last fall. McCain sent letters to all 50 governors asking them to ban it, and he persuaded major cable companies not to carry the pay-per-view events of the Ultimate Fighting Championship, the show that launched the sport in the United States in 1993.

The state of New York banned cage fighting in 1997 after the district attorney in Brooklyn threatened to file assault charges if a scheduled event proceeded, according to a New York Times story last summer, reported from Sioux Falls, S.D. That city was considering a ban because of the problems the district attorney believed cage fighting was causing in that community.

However, California reinstated the sport in December when the state's athletic commission finally approved it after a five-year regulatory ban, according to a recent Associated Press story.

Since 2001, promoters have won regulatory approval in at least 20 states as promoters have touted strict new safety rules, the AP reported. The sport has become popular again with television viewers who watch "The Ultimate Fighter," a reality TV show on the cable channel Spike TV.

In Oregon, professional promoters won a legal battle against the state, and professional cage fighting - in which the fighters are paid - has been regulated by the Oregon Boxing and Wrestling Commission since 2004, says Brad Darcy, the commission's executive director.

But amateur cage fighting - in which the fighters are not paid - such as the May 13 event at the fairgrounds and a May 6 event at the McDonald Theatre, is not regulated in Oregon.

There doesn't appear to be a move to ban the sport in Oregon. But state Sen. Floyd Prozanski of Eugene wants to impose regulations.

At the request of the Boxing and Wrestling Commission and the Oregon State Police, who oversee the commission, he is drafting legislation that would bring amateur cage fighting under the commission's regulation. Prozanski expects to introduce it this fall, he says.

"The other option would be to ban it entirely," Prozanski says. "But I'm not sure that's the way to go now. ... You're seeing very serious injuries and potential deaths. We need to make sure there are checks and balances."

Spine surgery required

On March 18, first-time cage fighter Morgan Bowe, 27, was severely injured during an amateur contest in John Day.

Caught in a choke hold by his opponent, Bowe lost consciousness and stopped breathing, according to an article in the Blue Mountain Eagle, John Day's weekly newspaper. Bowe recovered but underwent surgery to fuse four vertebrae in his neck.

Promoters of amateur contests, such as Georgianna, must be licensed by the Oregon Boxing and Wrestling Commission. But the commission has no legal jurisdiction over the amateur events, Darcy says. Bringing them under regulation would hold promoters to the same standards as professional events, says Darcy, who has roamed the state in the past year, attending amateur cage fights, trying to gauge what he's dealing with.

"It's by far the biggest gap in our system," Darcy says.

Regulation for amateur cage fighting would mean promoters would have to provide medical insurance to fighters, who would also have to show they've been properly trained in the sport; that they've passed medical exams and blood tests; and that their fight record has been reviewed by the commission, Darcy says. Also, an ambulance would be required on site, and referees would have to be licensed by the commission, he says.

Safer than boxing?

It also would prevent fights such as the second one at the fairgrounds on May 13. That fight saw first-time cage fighter Jerrod Kelso of Eugene disqualified after he continued to sucker punch another first-timer, Mike Pankey of Eugene, in the back of the head, knocking him motionless to the mat at one point. Kelso said later he took the fight after a friend at work couldn't because of an injury. He said he had never trained for cage fighting, and he left the cage to a cascade of boos from the fans.

Critics of cage fighting call it repulsive and barbaric, but fans say this is untrue. Fans also contend it's safer than boxing, which has been around for centuries and glamorized time and again by Hollywood. Darcy shares that view.

"I pretty much consider it as safe, if not safer, than boxing," Darcy says. "Just because there are so many nonconcussive ways to defeat your opponent."

No one keeps track of cage fights worldwide. But the Associated Press reported that only one cage fighter has ever died as a result of a fight - a 31-year-old Florida man after suffering a brain injury in a fight in Ukraine in 1998.

By contrast, there have been 1,094 boxing deaths worldwide, both in bouts and practice sessions, in the past century, according to the online Journal of Combative Sport. So far this year, there have been four boxing deaths, the journal reports. Since 2000, there have been 62.

Boxers use only their fists to try to knock each other out, and can continue to suffer blows to the head after they've been knocked down, as long as they get up within 10 seconds. Also, a referee can stop a match.

Cage fighters can win not only by knockout and by referee stoppage, but also if they cause their opponent to "tap out," that is, tap their hands in surrender on the canvas.

And, as in boxing, if a fight goes the distance, the winner is declared by a panel of judges.

Cage fights often end by tap-out when a fighter gets his opponent in an "armbar" or "legbar." These are jujitsu moves, a form of Japanese wrestling in which knowing how to apply leverage to an extremity is key.

Dressed for battle

Cage fighters compete barefoot, wearing shorts and small, fingerless gloves. Protection consists of a mouth guard and a groin cup.

Amateur contests are generally scheduled for three, three-minute rounds, much shorter than many boxing matches. They are quick, often bloody and high-adrenaline affairs.

Although amateur contests years ago might have had few if any rules, rules today include no biting, no eye gouging, no hair pulling, and no groin strikes or grabs. No elbows, no head butts. No kicking or kneeing a downed opponent in the head.

The thrill of victory is a strong pull for many young men, and sometimes women, looking for their path in life.

"When you win, and your hand is raised, there's nothing like it," says Cole Young, a 21-year-old amateur cage fighter from Roseburg, as he helps his buddy Jerrod Jones, Jeremy Jones' brother, prepare for one of two title fights on this May 13 night. "The only thing I could compare it to is being a rock star. It's a rising sport. Give it four years and it'll be like the NBA. Little kids will be saying these guys' names. Hopefully mine, too."

About 1,200 people attended the event at the fairgrounds, with tickets costing from $20 for general admission to $65 for a front-row seat. At the urging of the fairgrounds, Georgianna hired four Eugene police officers to work the event. He also hired Pratt, the registered nurse who was working his fourth cage fighting event in Lane County, and a couple of paramedics from the Eugene Fire Department.

Three scantily clad young women in 6-inch-high heels from the Silhouettes strip club in Springfield carry large "round" signs around the cage in between rounds. Beer is sold and many seem to be heavily imbibing, not unlike at a football game.

"Beat his ass!" one drunken man screams as the first fight gets under way. `This ain't `Brokeback Mountain' - fight! Punch him in his ... head!'

Screams and hollers such as this were not uncommon, with the ring announcer also trying to incite the crowd and the fighters.

"You guys want to see some blood, don't you? How about a knockout? You wanna see a knockout?"

Of the 30 fighters entering the cage on this night, it will be the first time for 11 of them, including two women separated by 20 years.

These fighters are trying to get experience, explains Georgianna, who also operates Redding Cage Wars, professional cage fighting in Redding, Calif.

Most professional cage fighters might make a few hundred dollars a fight, but the sport's top American, Chuck Liddell, will make $2.7 million this year, the Boston Globe recently reported.

Georgianna, 33, was operating his first event on May 13 under the name Pacific Coast Cage Fights after breaking away from Brass Knuckles Promotions, the outfit that produced the "Emerald City Cage Fights III' at the McDonald Theatre on May 6. His goal, he says, is to raise the skill level of amateurs in the sport that he has been passionate about since watching it on TV for the first time in 1994.

"I will debate anybody," he says, watching fighters weigh in at the fairgrounds hours before their bouts. "Skill ... mental toughness ... physical conditioning. This sport takes more than any other."

CAPTION(S):

Jordan Sutton of Salem celebrates his victory over Jesse Soto of Springfield during the Pacific Coast Cage Fights at the Lane Events Center on May 13. Cage fighting, also known as mixed martial arts, is becoming more popular in Oregon and is fairly new to Eugene. Many states have banned the sport. Erin Johnson tends to her husband, Caleb Johnson, of Lake Shastina, Calif., after he lost his first bout ever, against Lance Wipf of Eugene, during the May 13 event in Eugene. In Oregon, amateur contests such as this one are not regulated. More than 1,200 fans watch May 13's cage fighting events in Eugene. At least four such events have been held in Lane County in the past year. A fighter has his hands taped before an event. Fighters vie barefoot, wearing fingerless gloves and only a mouth guard and groin cup for protection. Right: Donnie Evenson of Junction City enters the arena before fighting Tommy Davis of Yreka, Calif., during May 13's competition at the Lane Events Center. Below: Tommy Davis punches Donnie Evenson during their fight. Thomas Boyd / The Register-Guard