A long day's journey into fights
Former MU wrestler establishes himself in world of mixed martial arts.

ST. CHARLES - It’s 11 o’clock on Friday night. The venue is Family Arena, whose name is tinged with irony at the moment, because the previous three hours have been filled with the shouts of beer-guzzling hecklers not afraid to work blue as they pass judgment on the gladiators inside the cage and the barely dressed women strutting around the ring apron.

Tyron Woodley has been here since 3 p.m., the time the competitors show up so the card can be finalized for a night of mixed martial arts bouts. The evening has been filled with fights compelling and comical, but Woodley has spent most of his time in a cramped room napping, warming up and praying.

Not that he has much to worry about. Woodley, a former Big 12 champion and All-American wrestler at Missouri, is undefeated in his five previous MMA fights and facing an opponent, Willie Dale, whom he knocked out in August.

With music blaring as he strides purposefully through the tunnel onto the arena floor, Woodley shows none of the manufactured bravado of many of the fighters who came before him. The door to the cage is unlatched, he steps inside and removes his shirt to reveal a torso overstuffed with muscles.

As Woodley paces back and forth, one thought emerges: It’s a bad night to be Willie Dale.

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Recently, there has been a great awakening about mixed martial arts - also known as ultimate fighting - a sport that combines elements of boxing, wrestling and martial arts. Fighters wearing fingerless padded gloves attempt to beat their opponents by knockout, submission or decision. The top professional league, Ultimate Fighting Championship, stages enormously popular pay-per-view bouts and has its own reality show, "The Ultimate Fighter," on Spike TV. Last month, Sports Illustrated and ESPN The Magazine ran cover stories about the sport.

MMA’s critics believe it’s too barbaric to be considered a sport at all. Professional MMA fights are illegal in Missouri, but amateur cards, like the one in St. Charles hosted by Genesis Mixed Martial Arts, are acceptable.

This is the grass-roots level of fighting, where the combatants are paid only for their travel expenses, and, judging by their appearances, many are quickly reinvesting that money into the tattoo economy. For some, amateur MMA is seen as a steppingstone to the big money of the Ultimate Fighting Championship. For others, it is a means to an end, an adrenaline rush like few others, an outlet for competitiveness or anger.

"I watched it on TV and watched the reality show, and I thought, ‘Man, I know it’s easier from the outside looking in, but I think I can go in and have success at this,’ " Woodley says.

The 25-year-old Woodley works for the MU athletic department’s Total Person Program and serves as a volunteer assistant coach for the wrestling team. He still competes in some elite wrestling tournaments, including an appearance at the U.S. Open freestyle tournament in April.

Woodley grew up in St. Louis in a family with 13 children and found his niche in wrestling. He won a state title as a senior at McCluer North High School and earned a scholarship to Missouri. In 2003, he became the Tigers’ first Big 12 champion. He finished eighth nationally that year and seventh as a senior in 2005.

But like many standout wrestlers whose eligibility is over, Woodley faced the question of what’s next. Without a viable professional wrestling circuit, MMA is an attractive alternative. Woodley said his interest in MMA has nothing to do with a desire to beat up people.

"I got into my fair share of fights growing up, but I’m not a person that’s going to approach you in a street fight," he says. "I can’t even remember the last time I was in a street fight. It kind of puzzles people, because my behavior and the way I carry myself is not like an aggressive person that’s going to start trouble and get into a fight.

"I take it truly as a sport. When I’m out there, I’m competing and have my game face on. But when I’m done fighting, I’m done fighting."

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Family Arena seats 10,000 and appears about one-third full on Friday. The ticket prices listed on Genesis MMA’s Web site range from $17 to $77 for what turns out to be 19 bouts. A circular caged ring is on a stage in the center of the arena, with big-screen monitors on either end of the floor. Fox Sports Midwest is on hand and will rebroadcast the event nine times, the first coming up at 8 p.m. this Saturday.

Some big names of the sport are in the house as spectators. One of them is Pat Miletich, a former UFC champion and the owner of the Miletich Fighting Systems gym in Bettendorf, Iowa. Another is Royler Gracie, a Brazilian jujitsu master from the first family of UFC. Another is professional MMA fighter Brad "Hillbilly Heartthrob" Imes, who was known as Brad Smith in his days at Rock Bridge High School and the University of Missouri.

With the exception of a fighter from Florida and two from Athens, Greece, the competitors are Midwesterners. Fourteen of the 38 are from Iowa, a hotbed of MMA, probably because of the state’s love affair with wrestling. Two of the combatants are women.

The fights consist of three 3-minute rounds, if necessary, although only one bout goes the distance on this night. Few extend beyond the first round. Paramedics sit at ringside, and they get some action administering to dazed knockout victims.

Many of the early bouts pit competitors in their first or second fights. They vary in appearance from lithe 145-pounders to 285-pound Des Moines native Michael Gyles, who is listed as an independent fighter but appears to have done a fair amount of his preparation at a Baskin-Robbins.

Upon his introduction, Gyles storms toward the ring, pauses to remove his spectacles and then reveals a body covered only by a small pair of black briefs with green trim. The crowd howls with laughter. In less than a minute, Gyles’ opponent, Anthony Espinoza, wrestles him to the ground and delivers a series of blows to the back of his head. Although the punches seem to cause no more harm than noogies, Gyles taps out - the MMA phrase for submitting. As he exits the ring, Gyles announces to no one in particular, "Sorry, guys."

When Tyler Anderson, guilty of being white, shimmies to the ring to the beat of hip-hop music, the heavily tattooed resident of Fort Dodge, Iowa, becomes the butt of a hundred Eminem and Vanilla Ice jokes. When he quickly loses, the hecklers express their delight.

The biggest roar of approval comes in the next match. One of the Greeks, George Katsino, charges his opponent, Mel Boone of Fort Dodge, and delivers a haymaker. The blow immediately knocks out Boone, who turns slowly and falls face-first like a 263-pound tree. The match is over in 14 seconds.

"That’s what you came to see," the ring announcer reminds a crowd that, considering the number of jumbo beers being downed, is buzzing in more ways than one.

While paramedics attend to Boone, Katsino is interviewed in the ring and declares, "I love America." Later in the evening, while watching another bout ringside, he stares upward with wonder as a ring girl - surgically enhanced, speckled with gold glitter, quite possibly on loan from an establishment on the east side of the Mississippi River - makes her way around the apron. His grin reaffirms his previous statement. What a country.

Columbia’s Isaiah Larson, a 5-foot-9, 250-pounder who trains alongside Woodley at the local American Top Team gym when he’s not selling appliances in Boonville, has a more complicated relationship with the fans. They cheer him as he avoids a potentially decapitating roundhouse kick from Rashad Brooks and then wrestles Brooks to the ground and forces him to tap out. His record improves to 8-1. When some fans scream out "Butterbean" - a comparison to 400-plus-pound boxer Eric "Butterbean" Esch - Larson responds with a middle-finger salute. During his postfight interview in the ring, Larson refers to hecklers with an anatomical description and exits to a chorus of boos.

Those boos turn to cheers when flamboyant St. Charles native Rich Brown makes his entrance, looking very much like a miniature professional wrestler. He removes his half-pink, half-black cowboy hat to reveal a hairdo with a matching color scheme. He revels in the crowd’s adulation, sticking out his tongue and nodding his head. He beats the inappropriately named Bruce Lee Miller, who doesn’t put up much of a fight.

Woodley, one of the headliners of the card, is mostly oblivious to all of this. He is squirreled away behind the scenes, waiting for the 18th bout. He says he doesn’t get nervous for these fights like he did for his college wrestling matches. He actually falls asleep for a half-hour midway through the mayhem.

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Woodley’s first MMA fight was a year and a half ago at The Fieldhouse bar in Columbia. His opponent foolishly tried to take him down, and Woodley applied a choke hold he had learned only the day before. The match lasted 20 seconds.

None of his fights have gone the distance. He intentionally avoids using his wrestling skills during these amateur bouts, preferring to hone his striking and Brazilian jujitsu ground game to make himself a more well-rounded fighter for a possible pro career.

He represents American Top Team, a franchise of MMA teams with gyms around the country. Columbia’s ATT gym is located off El Chaparral Avenue on the far east side of town. Woodley teaches a wrestling class there and learns from gym owner Wade Rome and resident Brazilian jujitsu expert Kiko France. Woodley also has worked out with veteran UFC fighter Yves Edwards. Woodley has shown Edwards some wrestling tricks, while Edwards - known for his stand-up fighting prowess - has improved Woodley’s boxing skills.

In his previous meeting with Dale, which can be viewed on YouTube.com, the first round passes uneventfully. Woodley takes Dale down a few times but can’t inflict serious damage. Midway through the second round, shortly after the ring announcer notes both fighters look timid, Woodley fakes a shot at Dale’s legs, causing Dale to lower his hands. Then Woodley delivers a crushing right hand that knocks out Dale.

Despite that result, Dale, a resident of Sterling, Ill., wants a rematch. Wearing a sweatsuit and stocking cap at the ATT gym over his lunch hour last Wednesday, Woodley conducts an interview while riding a stationary bicycle and then jumping rope. He is perspiring his way to 176 pounds. He doesn’t look like he is taking Dale lightly.

"I don’t know how many amateur fights I’m going to have left," he says. "I’m not overlooking him because I beat him before. I’m assuming that he’s training and he’s better than before."

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Friday’s fight shows how far Woodley has progressed since the previous meeting. There is no timidity this time.

He lands his first kick, which catches an advancing Dale by surprise and sends him to the mat. His first punch does likewise. Now, it’s time for the ground game. Woodley counters Dale’s takedown attempt and wrestles him to the mat. He lets Dale up when he can’t maneuver him into a vulnerable position. The next takedown is the charm. Woodley rains punches on Dale’s head until the referee stops the fight. It is a technical knockout at the 2-minute mark of the first round.

Months of preparation ... hours of waiting ... minutes of action.

"The hardest part about this is sitting here all day," Woodley says afterward. "I’ve been here since 3 o’clock, and it’s almost 12 o’clock now. When I get out there, it’s an adrenaline rush. I’m pumped up, ready to go, ready to get after it."

Woodley is asked how many more of these lopsided amateur fights he needs. He has trained with UFC fighters and is pretty sure he can compete with them. But he also doesn’t want to jeopardize his amateur wrestling status and is serious about a career as a wrestling coach, which might not be compatible with a pro MMA career.

"I look at the guys at the top of the game, and these guys are in their 30s and 40s. I’m 25. I don’t think there’s a rush for me to go pro," Woodley says. "Once you go pro, that’s when you have to concentrate on keeping your record good. You’re going to be fighting tougher guys. I think right now I want to concentrate on working on my boxing, working on my submissions, so when I’m pro, I’m pro."

A few weeks ago, another American Top Team fighter suffered an injury before a scheduled UFC fight, and the UFC inquired about Woodley as a replacement. Woodley said the fact he was still an amateur worked against him. It would be like a baseball player skipping the minor leagues and debuting in the majors.

"They wanted me to have some pro experience," Woodley said. "I know for a fact that that’s not going to be my last offer. They said they want to get me on a future card. I don’t know if that’s a month in the future or a year or whatever."

Until that day, Woodley will keep training, molding himself into an ever-more-dangerous fighter. There are more bad nights ahead for those who climb in the cage with him.

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Reach Joe Walljasper at (573) 815-1783 or jwalljasper@tribmail.com.

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