Wednesday, May 28, 2003 | 9:53 a.m.
Dean Juipe's column appears Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday and Friday. His boxing notebook appears Thursday. Reach him at [email protected] or (702) 259-4084.
Toughman didn't seem like such a bad idea when it was founded. Its format -- inexperienced fighters duke it out -- had an amusing quality to it, and within quick order the "sport" had spread across the country.
That was 1979. A 1983 movie glorified it even further.
But today Toughman is, in effect, banned in 10 states and under the gun in Michigan, where its founder resides and orchestrates an approximate 100 shows per year in the states where it is still allowed.
Given the evidence, anyone thinking clearly would see that Toughman is far more dangerous than need be and deserves to be banned on a nationwide basis. At the very least, it cries out for a regulatory oversight that its founder, Art Dore, has thus far refused to implement on his own.
"We have some major concerns" about Toughman, said Marc Ratner, the executive director of the Nevada State Athletic Commission. Those concerns would have surfaced had Dore followed through and applied for a license renewal in Nevada, which he was going to do this past January.
But when he got wind of Nevada's opposition, Dore pulled his request and hasn't surfaced here since.
Michigan -- whose attorney general is looking into Toughman from a couple of angles -- should follow suit and block Dore from continuing a business that is barbaric, savage and extremely exploitative.
Twelve men have died in Toughman events, the most recent of which was in Michigan and was deemed a homicide by the county prosecutor. In that fight, the victim allegedly wanted to quit during the bout but the referee wouldn't let him.
Equally pitiful was a death of a Toughman competitor last September in Idaho that has prompted a lawsuit against Dore's organization. In that fight, the victim was in need of medical attention but the only ringside physician was a chiropractor.
Dore's company pulls in $500,000 a year, in part because plenty of people are tempted to see what it's like within a ring. Or, as former light heavyweight boxing champion Montell Griffin of Las Vegas told me earlier this year on the personal appeal of his sport: "Don't know who you are? Take a couple of fights and you'll find out in a hurry."
Toughman's downfall is its lack of adequate protections. Its prefight exam tests only for blood pressure and alcohol; only those over the age of 35 need a doctor's permission to compete; fighters are responsible for their own medical expenses and must sign a waiver that frees Toughman from any liability; and there are no minimum requirements for referees or medical personnel.
Men and women from the general public -- poorly prepared and protected -- compete with the distant goal of winning the annual $50,000 national championship.
Along the way, dozens of competitors are injured and maimed and become welfare recipients.
Why let it continue? As a sport it serves no purpose, beyond enriching Dore and appeasing its bloodthirsty following.
Michigan should do itself and its constituents a favor and join Nevada as a state where Toughman is no longer permitted. It has worn out its welcome.
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