On Saturday night, I was assigned to cover my first-ever mixed martial arts fight, as former CFL star Glenn Kulka stepped into the ring for his MMA debut.

For those of you that don't know me, I'm a pretty conservative guy, who isn't into blood sports. I drink San Pellegrino and I cringe every time I get a hangnail.

So like a Jehovah's Witness who inadvertently rings the doorbell of the Playboy mansion, I was really out of place in this environment.

Here is the rundown of my night on the wild side:

6:13 pm - I'm at home trying to decide what to wear to my first MMA fight. I don't want to be the only guy in the building wearing Dockers. Plus, everyone there is going to have a tattoo and I don't have any ink on my body. Perhaps I can get my wife to draw something on my arm using one of our Mr. Sketch markers. It will be hard to pull off the intimidating look while simultaneously smelling like artificial grape. Unfortunately, it turns out my wife can only draw those 3-D box shapes, so I think I'll pass on a homemade tattoo.

6:47 pm - I pull into the Robert Guertin Arena in Gatineau. I'm surprised to see a long line at the ticket window. This marks the first time in history that people have paid to watch violence at a QMJHL arena without any members of the Roy family involved.

7:27 pm - I take a look down at the souvenir stand. I wanted to see if they had a T-shirt that said "I went to a MMA fight and a WNBA game broke out." (Author's Note: This joke has a 7-day shelf life. If someone accesses this article six months from now, they will be wondering what the hell I'm talking about.)

7:44 pm - The first fight of the night is about to start. They actually check the fighters for weapons as they enter the ring. There is a security guy that pats them down and everything. Evidently, this is where the rejects from the TSA Airport screening program end up. Or maybe it's a promotion for them. I'm not quite sure.

8:07 pm - Am I the only one who thinks it should be mandatory for all ringside officials to wear a white shirt with a black bow-tie, like Super Mario did when he served as a guest referee in Mike Tyson's Punch Out?

8:22 pm - A guy named "Showtime" just won his fight and proceeded to swear in his post-fight interview, which was broadcast throughout the arena. Can you imagine this happening in the NHL?

Reporter’s question: "Jason Spezza, you just won the game in a shootout. What are your thoughts?"

Spezza’s answer: "I know Toskala has a (expletive) blocker side. We (expletive) own those guys and they know it."

8:57 pm - I suddenly realize that I haven't seen any other visible minorities tonight. Now I expect certain spectator events - like curling or a production of Mamma Mia - to be filled with white people in the stands. But I guess I just didn't think it would be like that here. I feel like I did at a Mennonite wedding about 10 years ago, when I was the only minority in the whole place. That night, I ended up hugging a Chinese guy when he walked into the reception hall (I looked foolish when I found out he was with the catering staff).

9:31 pm - I really have to use the bathroom, but I admit - I'm kind of afraid. This is the type of event where I could get jumped or knifed if I go in alone. And that's if I try using the women's washroom. So I've decided to risk a mild bladder infection and wait until I can use a washroom in a safe zone. I feel like Homer Simpson when he drank too much crab juice at the Kalkalash stand in New York. (For the record, "Kalkalash" came up as "calculus" on the spell-check for this blog).

10:04 pm - Kulka's fight lasts only 73 seconds, as he disposes of his opponent with relative ease. Not to make another "Punch Out" reference, but I'm pretty sure Kulka would have had a tougher time with either Glass Joe or Don Flamenco.

10:27 pm - I head back across the river to the safety of Ontario, where MMA fighting has been banned by the provincial government. I can once again sip my San Pellegrino (with a twist of lemon), while wearing a comfortable pair of Dockers.





Printer friendly