In a society that is enamored by violence, unregulated "Toughman" competitions have been steadily taking the lives of unsuspecting amateurs fighters. The latest to die in the ring was 30-year-old Stacy Young, a mother of four from Sarasota, Fla.
On a June night that was intended to be "fun," the 235-pound woman was beaten to death in front of her husband, four children and 15,000 fans at a local Florida fairground. She had paid $50 to enter the fight in hopes of winning a jacket. Young was the fourth individual to die this year from cranial trauma received in a Toughman ring. Another person at the same event suffered permanent brain damage.
Several politicians, including Arizona Sen. John McCain, have fought to create legislation that would ban this type of event but have achieved little success.
Toughman founder and promoter Arthur Dore is an ace at dodging regulations that vary from state to state. If a particular state has a strong boxing regulatory board, Dore will simply show up and tell his contestants to kick each other, thus turning it into a kickboxing competition, which almost all state boxing officials view as outside their domain.
At other events, when issued a cease and desist order, Dore contacts sovereign Indian casinos to hold his events there. In line with his regulation-dodging strategy, Dore doesn't even have ringside physicians or paramedics on hand to ensure the most basic of safety requirements, a mandatory staffing at regulated boxing matches.
If that wasn't enough cause for disaster and cruelty in this grotesque sideshow, Toughman contestants often are grossly outmatched, often without their knowledge and resulting in terrible consequences.
In 1994, Louisiana native Bobby Troy Purdue made the mistake of signing up for a fight against a locksmith named Terry Vermaelen, who had participated in 56 amateur fights and held three Louisiana Golden Glove titles. Purdue exited the ring early in the second round after being beaten to a pulp, collapsed in his brother's arms and died later that night.
Dore argues that his critics are merely jealous of his success. While he claims to have made about $50 million promoting this lunacy and often extols that people "have the right to get their ass kicked," rational people realize that on the scale of morality, Dore falls somewhere between an insanely cruel child abuser and a meth dealer.
His sick show, which he often brings to some of the most economically depressed regions of America, has no place in a civilized society.
Unlike professional boxing, where the participants are well-trained and familiar with the inherent danger, Dore's Toughman crap preys on the negligent and foolish. If we find it necessary to inform people of the obvious dangers of smoking, unprotected sex and other risky behavior, we surely should be able to bankrupt this sleaze in order to save some lives.
But the real blame for such tragic cruelty lies only partially with Dore. It's on our heads, as well, since we feed off a culture of violence, tolerating this garbage and in some cases, opening our wallets to see it.
Christian Palmer is a journalism senior. He can be contacted at
