Monday, Oct. 23, 2006 | 7:37 a.m.
.
With its origins in the Far East, the Pride fighting organization can ostensibly lay claim to honoring the mental and spiritual aspects of martial arts.
You know, those that place an emphasis on discipline, character development, grace and dignity, rather than trying to determine who's the baddest man on the planet.
Those noble precepts went up in smoke, rather literally, in the Pride Fighting Championships' first U.S. show Saturday night at the Thomas & Mack Center.
In fact, it was easy to pinpoint the moment it happened.
Just before the fifth bout of the night, Eric "Butterbean" Esch, the erstwhile king of the boxing four-rounders, entered the ring to much fanfare. Butterbean was wearing his trademark American flag trunks draped on a 390-pound frame painstakingly crafted by long hours in the Southern-specialties restaurant he owns in his hometown of Jasper, Ala.
Not too much graceful or dignified about that.
And let's forget for a moment the earlier appearance of Phil Baroni, a Long Island fighter who goes by the subtle nickname, "The New York Bad Ass." I got your spiritual aspects, right here.
Yet even purists had to be won over by the Bean's first-round dismantling of opponent Sean O'Haire, which took all of 29 seconds, as well as Baroni's first-round stoppage by hammerlock of Yosuke Nishijima.
A crowd of more than 11,000 welcomed Pride to Las Vegas in the Tokyo-based mixed martial arts circuit's stateside debut, savoring the fight action as well as the organization's signature special effects and pyrotechnics.
In the headliner of the pay-per-view card, Russian heavyweight champion Fedor Emelianenko lived up to his billing as a heavy betting favorite by beating former U.S. Olympic wrestler Mark Coleman into submission in the second round.
Before the show and between bouts, fans were treated to elaborate production numbers advertised as generating the energy of a "rock concert." (Perhaps not coincidentally, Siegfried and Roy used to employ an eerily similar phrase in describing their magic act.)
Pride's huge stage set, projecting a "Blade Runner" meets "Iron Chef" motif, was impressive and came complete with fireworks and fancy digital displays.
In a nice touch, the fighters ascended onto the main stage from the arena's nether regions, like Mephistopheles in some medieval play - a particularly apt analogy considering the flames and flares that accompanied their entrances.
It was more Oscars ceremony than rock concert at times, however, with so many sweeping, soaring orchestral arrangements that you half-expected to hear Peter Coyote voicing the fighter introductions.
After the eight-bout card, American and Japanese officials alike unleashed a heavyweight explosion of bluster and melodrama about "history" and "a new standard" that probably cowed even the fearsome Emelianenko.
The upshot was this: Although Saturday's event was sponsored by Caesars Palace, other major casino companies also came on board and bought blocks of tickets, according to Pride USA president Ed Fishman, gambling that Pride would appeal to their gaming customers. Pride will conduct its second Las Vegas card Feb. 24, and plans for tour stops in Macau and London are in the works.
Though a success, Pride's first venture into Las Vegas wasn't without flaws.
The ring-announcer stylings of Lenne Hardt, for instance, must be an acquired taste, at least for those of us in Las Vegas who have grown accustomed to the Buffers (Michael and Bruce).
Likewise, a choreographed number at intermission involving the round-card girls.
Pride's standard ring might allow for better views than rival Ultimate Fighting Championship's octagon, but it lacks the mystique of the octagon, which evokes a certain steel cage imagery.
And in official publicity material heralding its arrival in Las Vegas, Pride paid homage to great warriors like "Oscar De La Joya (sic)" and "Deigo (sic) Corrales."
But those missteps surely won't prevent Pride from continuing to feed the insatiable market for commercial video recordings of mixed martial arts fight cards, which are required by federal statute to have comically bad titles (see above).
archive
