4A NEWS
THE UNIVERSITY DAIRY KANSAN
WEDNESDAY, OCTOBER 24, 2007
FIGHT (CONTINUED FROM 1A)
self-defense classes, which quickly turned into learning mixed martial arts, or MMA.
"I did all of the regular sports," he said. "MMA is a completely different world."
He said MMA improved overall athleticism, flexibility and self-defense. Teel taught a self-defense class last spring and planned to teach a cardio-kickboxing class for women at the school in the near future. He aspires to own a gym of his own.
One of Teel's coaches is Robert Riley, a real-life Clark Kent and Superman. A KU journalism graduate, Riley is a mild-mannered, glasses-wearing reporter for the Lawrence Journal-World by day. By night, he teaches Brazilian Jiu-Jitsu at Integrated Martial Science, coaches cage fighters and has entered into the cage himself.
Riley said a cage fighter could defeat an opponent by subduing him with a submission hold, battering an opponent until he quit or the referee stopped it, or by decision of the judges after three five-minute rounds.
When his fighters get into the cage, Riley can no longer help them. "It has to be so drilled into them and second nature. That's what people don't understand about fighting. You
have to do it without thinking. There's no time to think— only time to win or lose.
At the Ararat Shrine Temple, Sears' undefeated opponent Steve Cox threw him to the canvas, rained punches to his face and side, lifted him three feet into the air and crashed his head to the mat.
MORE THAN A HOBBY
Some in the crowd of about 1,000 stood and cheered with gusto, while others like Sears' family groaned at the sight of his face, pink from punches, blood dripping from his nose.
Riley teaches beginning Brazilian Ju-Jitsu and helps coach a small group of advanced students, including Lawrence resident Mark "The Wolverine" Sears, 24, who found himself in a pinch one minute into his first cage fight last May in Kansas City, Mo.
With Sears pinned against the plastic-coated chain-link cage, defenseless against Cox's punches, the referee stopped the fight. Sears collapsed face-first to the mat as worried medics and coaches rushed into the cage through its swinging door. Sears stood up, walked to his opponent and lifted him up in acclaim of his victory.
KANSAS SHOWDOWNS
Sponsors at Sears' fight ranged from aerobic coaches to senior care providers. In the middle of the Ararat Shrine Temple, a purple-matted cage illuminated by four industrial work lights framed the action. Two ring girls in black stretch short-shorts, skin-tight white shirts and tall platform boots strutted, danced and entertained in the cage between fights to metal, country and rap music. A cameraman recorded the action, some of which was later uploaded to YouTube. The referee wore clear rubber gloves to protect himself from the blood, sweat and saliva of the brawlers, who rush to batter each other at the ring of a 10-inch bronze bell.
Amanda Sellers/KANSAN
Thoughhisfirstfightended in loss, "The Wolverine,"
as fearless as his carnivorous pseudonym, would return to the cage a few weeks later to claim his first victory. Most recently, he won again as part of Lawrence's first-ever cage fight card, which included Teel and two other KU students, Lance Windholz and Sath Anderson.
This time around, Sears rebounded from a hard kick in the face from Wes "Fire Man"
Fans watch as Steve Cox lifts up Mark Searls, Lawrence resident in red, and slams his head to the mats. Sears lost this cage fight, held at the Aarara Shark temple in K菩提寺, Mo, but returned to the cage to claim his first victory just a few weeks later. he now is 3-1.
Miller and quickly slammed Miller to the mat. Sears ended the fight when he put his challenger in an arm bar, a favorite submission move that hyperextends the elbow joint. The referee stopped the skirmish for fear Sears would break Miller's arm.
Sears wrestled at Shawnee Heights High School before graduation in 2001 and decided to try cage fighting after watching the Ultimate Fighting Championship on television. While that champion won big money, amateur fighters such as Sears get no tangible compensation beyond the respect earned in the 24-square-foot octagonal cage.
"It's not something to pursue for fame and money," explained the bearded Sears, who stands 5'5", weighs 145-pounds and earns his living throwing boxes on a conveyor belt at a K-Mart distribution center in Lawrence.
Sears said training and fights brought sore joints, battered knuckles, muscle bruises, bloody faces and sometimes broken bones. "Somewhere, it always hurts. You just get used to it," Sears said.
FOR COMBAT OR DEFENSE
The school's Web site reads, "By taking martial arts classes, you can master natural truths about how things like your body, psychology, competition, and the world around
Sears trained for a year at Integrated Martial Science, a gym next to an employment agency, a parole office and a payday loans business. Owner Darryl Clark says most of his nearly 60 students are between 18 and 28 and are there both to learn self-defense and for good workouts.
you operate. By the process of science (not by faith or tradition), each concept can be tested to prove its effective-
to prove its effective ness."
Clark's specialty entails putting all of the gym's fighting styles together and filling in the gaps. He started as a high school wrestler with his father as coach. Since then, he says he's been in 39 unsanctioned fights in an Illinois
underground fighting club called "Get Down and Dirty." The club involves no money, no references, no officials and is a real-life version of the book and movie Fight Club - just friends beating each other up for fun, he said. "My ambition was to see what worked and what doesn't," he said. "I found out real quick."
Clark's gym is one of several here
that train would be cage fighters.
Others include Dwane Lewis
in would-be cage fighters.
ers include Dwane Lewis
Martial Arts Academy, the
Lawrence Grappling
Club, Crawford's
Mixed Martial Arts,
and Walt's Boxing.
Lance
Windholz, 20.
Louisburg
junior, trained
with the
Louisburg
group
Suicide
Mill before
moving to
Lawrence. He doesn't
belong to a gym today;
instead, he trains and
spars with friends
at the University of
Kansas' Student Recreation
Kansas' Student Recreation Fitness Center.
WITHOUT A COACH,
WITHOUT A DEFEAT
A lanky 6'3", Windholz has won his two amateur cage fights. He won his debut in Kansas City by choking his opponent with his legs, called a "triangle choke." Most recently, he defeated Seth Anderson, another KU student, in Lawrence's first fight
card. Windholz took Anderson to the mat and began throwing a flurry of punches to his face when the referee stopped the match. Windholz escaped both of his fights relatively unharmed, he said, with a black eye and sore nose his only injuries.
"I'm sure there's going to be a time when I get punched back hard," said Windholz, who has trained in Judo and Tae Kwon Do. "But if you play any sport and you're afraid of injury, you're never going to be successful."
REGULATE THE BEATING
One of the three judges at Sears' first fight in Kansas City was Brian Holmes, a muscular, middle-aged man with a goatose on his chin, wearing a black Under Armour shirt and carpenter jeans. The Leavenworth resident regularly judges cage fights.
Fights aren't typically long blood baths but instead are over in a flash, said Holmes, whose personal fight experience stretches from wrestling to Tae Kwon Do. Now, he says he's too old to fight, so he judges matches and gets "the best seat in the house."
Holmes, whose day job is being a Lake Quivira police officer, said cage
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