Above: Bas Rutten, and event coordinator, Justine Riediger.

Fighting is a tough gig. Instead of punching a clock, you spend countless hours training, dieting, nursing injuries, all in service to that penultimate moment—fight night. But an even more harrowing job than fighter, is that of promoter. Risking reputation and capital, the promoter works round-the-clock to ensure that fans leave the arena both awed and clamoring for the next show.

In many ways, promoting seems easy. Sit cage-side during the fights, field softball media questions, and pose for photos. But erecting that illusion is a promoter’s primary job: for just a few hours on a Saturday night, provide a break from the hectic grind of our daily lives.

Here we are now, entertain us…

I’ve personally been there, and I’ve seen it at every level—from an elite UFC title bout to a back-room amateur event—and the logistics are staggering.

I recently hung out with Bas Rutten, former UFC Heavyweight Champion, the day he staged his first amateur MMA show—The Art of MMA (TAO), at the Civic Arts Plaza, in Thousand Oaks, California. Joined by event coordinator, Justine Riediger, we compiled a cursory checklist for the aspiring promoter:

• Book the venue

• Procure a cage

• Purchase Insurance

• Schedule Weigh-ins

• Medical Examinations

• Sound

• Lights

• Judging

• Referees

• Ring girls

• On-site medical personnel

Of course, this isn’t exhaustive, and it’s just as much a to-do list as it is a catalog of shit that can go wrong. And that’s the promoter’s mantra: What the hell next, what the hell next… Especially on fight night. When you strip off the street clothes and step into the hazmat gear, and start putting out fires. Lost gloves. Forgotten fight trunks. Injured fighters. Sound system crashes.

I asked Bas why he jumped into the promotion game, and in that awesome Dutch accent, he told me: “Owning the gym [Elite MMA], and training fighters, I saw how difficult it is for them to find bouts. Last year, Justine (Riediger) started talking about promoting, and we realized it was the best way to give them the opportunity to test their skills.”

Luckily, they didn’t start from scratch. In California, amateur-event promoters work with CAMO (California Amateur Mixed Martial Arts Organization), who supply referees, judges, time keepers, and, if needed, gloves, shinguards, rash guards, etc. For a fee, they help you learn the ropes.

In the end, the event ran smooth. The fights, awesome. In the parking lot, I asked Bas for advice to any aspiring PT Barnums: “It's hard for promoters. I think focusing on amateur events is the way to go, because you always have fighters. Once they become big, the managers step in and start a bidding war. For us, we’re not really interested in that. We just want to build great fighters and send them off to the big [promotions]. As long as people know they started their careers at TAO, we’ll be happy.”



Whether an amateur or professional fight, there's still a winner... and a loser.



Pre-fight medical exams.



During amateur bouts, referees are quick to pounce.



Team members wrap hands, as opposed to professional cut-men.



Bas entertaining the troops backstage.



Smaller events give young and old(er) a chance to test skills.



The California State Athletic Commission requires medical personnel at every MMA bout.



Smaller MMA shows allow me to field-test old film gear, here: Nikon FM2, Super Takumar 50mm 1.4, Ilford HP5.



Gear: Nikon FM2, Nikon AIS 50mm 1.8, Ilford HP5.

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MMA Through the Eyes of a Ringside/Emergency Room Doctor