Ground & Pound: Ultimate fighting in the Flathead

From the sidewalk of First Avenue, looking inside the tall windows of the Straight Blast Gym, there appears to be a brawl going on between four adult men.

Two of the fighters are on the floor tied in a human knot, butting their heads against each other and trying to snake their legs around the other's body. Off to the side, the other pair are standing in their own make-believe ring, throwing fists or knees into each other's stomach and kidneys.

A barefooted man with a red buzz cut and firm arms covered in bright tattoos stands nearby watching the action with an obvious sense of concern for the fighters.

From the outside looking in, a passer-by might confuse this for something brutally out of the ordinary for downtown Kalispell. But in reality, it is very different - and, perhaps unexpectedly, one of the fastest growing sports in America.

Mixed martial arts, as popularized by the Ultimate Fighting Championship or UFC, has become one of the most popular activities in the country, both to watch and to participate in. All forms of fighting, from Jiu Jitsu to wrestling to boxing, were blended together in the early 1990s to form the original ultimate fighting.

The sport remained out of the public eye for the most part until one of the first mainstream references came in the mid-'90s from Sen. John McCain, R-Ariz., who called it "human cockfighting," and pushed to have it banned.

However, the sport endured. In 2000, new ownership took over the UFC, one of the many ultimate fighting organizations, and stricter rules were put in place. Since then, UFC has become a billion-dollar entity with monthly pay-per-view events that average millions of viewers nationwide.

As a result, places like the Straight Blast Gym on 419 First Avenue East have opened for those interested in taking part in what UFC president and co-founder Dana White calls the 'sport for a new generation."

On Saturday, that sport will be center stage at the Majestic Valley Arena, starting at 7:30 p.m, when members of the Straight Blast Gym will compete in an amateur mixed martial-arts event against highly trained fighters from across the Northwest. FightForce Kalispell Kombat, promoted by FightForce for the second year in a row, will feature twelve fights.

While the event won't be the first display of ultimate fighting in Flathead County, it will be the first for the local Straight Blast, which is affiliated with an international organization of the same name.

Thirty-four-year-old Travis Davison, along with his wife Kisa, opened the gym less than five months ago and began welcoming members immediately, whether it was yoga students, 5- to 10-year-olds learning the fundamentals of martial arts or teenagers and adults learning to fight on a competitive level.

Kevin Moore, who competes in mixed martial arts tournaments across the world and started FightForce in Montana in 2002, said with a growing number of people getting involved, the responsibility of trainers to protect their fighters remains number one. Davison fits that bill, Moore said.

FightForce has held events similar to this weekend's all across the state for the past couple years, and the number of fans increase each time, Moore said.

But even though ultimate fighting continues to grow and cement its mainstream status, the stereotype that McCain helped to popularize still exists. That's why Davison wants people to step inside the gym and see for themselves.

"I feel like if I can get them in here actually participating, meeting the people, see what it's really all about, then they find out quickly it's not the Tap Out shirts, it's not the blood and guts, the pit bulls, the chip on your shoulder sort of tough guy thing to do," Davison, who holds a brown belt in Jiu Jitsu, said. "They quickly find out it's just really a cohesive group of people."

Inside the bright First Avenue gym, which feels more like a yoga studio than a battle box, the first sight that demands attention is the headline painted in bold lettering across the ceiling beam - "Please leave shoes and egos at the door."

Then what comes into focus are the barefooted fighters that are crumpled together in an intense training session moving full speed but without unloading full punches.

Unlike street fighters spouting loud remarks, the men are almost completely silent. The only sound in the room is the twangy country blues of R.L. Burnside playing over the speakers of an iPod jukebox.

There isn't any blood, only sweat dripping down the faces onto the men's Straight Blast Gym T-shirts, which are a peculiar shade of pink.

The human silence is broken when Davison - the master with the red buzz cut - comes alive like a football coach yelling to his quarterback.

"Eyes open, mouth closed," he says. "Guard bottom."

Davison teaches from 10 years of experience. When he first moved to Kalispell with Kisa and their four kids almost two years ago, he began training fighters in a rented gym in Creston. Now, he spends almost every waking moment inside his pseudo dojo, training people like Hamilton Ash.

Ash, a 19-year-old from Portland, traveled to Kalispell almost a month ago to train with Davison. Like others who study the sport, Ash is an ultimate fighter because he wants to be, and in some ways, because he needs to be.

Two years ago, a bad breakup with a girlfriend piled onto a history of anger that needed a release but didn't yet have one, he said.

"I just needed an outlet. I was in a bad spot, and just didn't do much physically," Ash said.

Growing up in rough neighborhoods in South Texas, Ash always had one outlet available - fighting.

"I was just a rowdy kid; I got into a bunch of fights," Ash, who will compete this Saturday, said. "But I've kinda mellowed out now."

That's because Ash's family pushed for him to join the Straight Blast Gym organization after moving to Portland, where the headquarters of SBG International is located.

Ash quickly learned that fighting is more than releasing brash anger, and found his outlet. Along the way, he also found a few mentors such as Davison.

"I like to train, I like the camaraderie, I like the people I surround myself with. Everyone's good," Ash said. "I've been known to surround myself with some bad people, so I've gotten in trouble in the past. So I like everything about (SBG)."

The way Davison sees it, this is what ultimate fighting is all about. Not just the fighting, not cracking skulls, not channeling violence.

"When you're in here going rounds, it forces you to be in that moment right then, because you don't have room or time for anything else," Davison said after practice recently. "So you can't think about your job, you can't think about your girlfriend problems, you can't think about anything. You've got to deal with the moment, and the other thing is, it's therapeutic. For a lot of these guys, they have issues that would never get resolved otherwise.

"If they didn't have this environment to have those issues come to the surface and then deal with them, they never would. There's nothing else in life that gives you this kind of opportunity. It's great for getting rid of people's egos and then getting them really in touch with their physical limitations."

Zach Dickson, a 28-year-old diesel and car mechanic in Kalispell, trains at the Straight Blast Gym almost seven days a week for another reason, he just plain enjoys it.

"It's a hobby. I mean it sounds crazy but yeah, I mean it's just like anything else I guess," Dickson said. "Some people bowl or play city league basketball, they do that just for fun."

Dickson agreed when Ash said every once in a while the stereotypical fighter looking to flex his or her toughness will come in the door at SBG, but usually those ones don't last.

"The guys with egos and bad personalities usually get weeded out," Ash said.

Another stigma that follows the sport is the brutality and danger, which Davison feels is inaccurately placed on ultimate fighting.

"No one has ever died in mixed martial arts, and that includes the rinky-dink garbage shows that are put on that aren't sanctioned," Davison said. "But you look at boxing, people die from boxing every year … Hands down, there's no doubt that (mixed martial arts is' safer. It's not even a question."

"The irony is the part that makes people think that MMA is brutal and dangerous is all the superficial cuts," Davison added.

"You just don't see any significant injuries. I think I've only seen a couple broken arms and again, not to sound callous, but is that a significant injury? Yeah I guess so, but how many arms get broken in high school football? And again I'd make the argument that tackle football is way more brutal than ultimate fighting."

Nevertheless, SBG International as well as the sport continues to grow and become commonplace in all corners of the country.

"I think it's become popular for the superficial fan because it's just flat out exciting. I can't think of anything more exciting to watch," Davison said. "But then I think on a deeper level, yeah it goes back to that whole argument of what's better, kung fu or karate or wrestling versus boxing? It answers those questions for people."

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For information on the Straight Blast Gym, visit www.sbgmontana.com or call 250-2380.

FightForce Kalispell Kombat

Amateur Mixed Martial Arts Event

Saturday

Doors at 6 p.m., fights begin at 7:30

Majestic Valley Arena

Ticket information: 1-888-tvFORCE, or www.ultimatefightforce.com

Current Fight Card

'referee Dennis Bain)

Nick McMarrel of Eureka v. Hamilton Ash of Portland

Vinnie Rossie of Eureka v. Steven Hellman of Helena

Ryan Asay of Kalispell v. Michael Hader of Great Falls

Zach Dickson of Kalispell v. Kahl Clark of Butte

Thomas Lamarr of Kalispell v. Michael French of Great Falls

Kendal McAllum of Edmonton, Canada v. Donnie Cheaney of Ronan

Kenny Weasel of Edmonton, Canada v. Jacob Blackmer of Eureka

Darby Soop of Edmonton, Canada v. Jeremy Basler of Butte

Lance McMarrel of Eureka v. Ryan Fuss of Helena

Kyle Miller of Helena v. Ryan Mulvhill of Spokane

Jesse Newbreast of Butte v. Kenji Nita of Spokana

Bryan Schloss of Whitefish v. Dalton Peasley of Helena

Reporter Dillon Tabish can be reached at 758-4463, or by e-mail at dtabish@dailyinterlake.com