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My Favorite Sporting Upsets and Underdog Stories

Mississipi State's 66-64 victory over UConn in the Women'sFinal Four on Friday night had all the ingredients of a great upset. A David, a Goliath, a big stage, and an overtime buzzer beater to add a little zest. 

These moments may be fleeting, but they make some of the best memories. Moments like these are what make all the countless hours of watching, all the anxiety-induced vomiting, and all the missed homework deadlines worth it.

So long after the crowds had undoubtedly dissipated from the stadium to the bars, from the bars into the Dallas hotels, after America's adrenaline had returned to its normal levels and the commentators were done thanking Ross Dress for Less for providing their wardrobes; after I had brushed my teeth, taken my Flinstones vitamins, and my mom had tucked me safely into my Steve Urkel sleeping bag, I lay awake in bed, thinking long and hard about these rare moments.

I began to ponder: What is the best sports upset of all time? As I lay there in my dimly lit bedroom, staring at the glow-in-the-dark Richard Simmons poster that hangs over my bed, I composed a list of my favorite upsets and underdog stories. Mississippi's win rolled in at the number five spot. Here are my four others:

4. Helen Maroulis beats Saori Yoshida 

In the 2016 Olympics, Helen Maroulis became the first American to win an Olympic gold medal in women's wrestling. To get there she had to beat three-time Olympic gold medalist and 13-time (yes, that's THIRTEEN-time) world champion, Saori Yoshida, in the gold medal match.

3. "Rocktober" 

No Colorado sports fan can forget the Colorado Rockies'miracle run to the World Series in 2007. While it didn't end well for the Rockies, getting swept in the World Series by the Boston Red Sox, the journey there was a fun and memorable one for the Colorado community. The Rockies finished that regular season by winning 13 of their last 14 games, defeating San Diego in a play-in game to take their spot in the playoffs. They swept Philadelphia in the NLDS and Arizona in the NLCS to finally advance to the World Series.

2. Holly Holm beats Ronda Rousey

Ronda Rousey's 12-0 record wasn't the only thing that made her heavily favored in her bout against Holly Holm in November 2015. It was the manner of her victories that had many people thinking she was unbeatable. With her previous three opponents lasting just 34, 14, and 16 seconds against her, some fans were even speculating that the UFC Bantamweight champ could beat Floyd Mayweather in the cage. So when world champion boxer Holly Holm knocked Rousey out a minute into the second round, the mma world was in shock.

This was one of my favorite upsets because I was one of the few people who thought Holm had a chance, and because it silenced Rousey's obnoxious fans.

1. Rulon Gardner vs. Alexandr Karelin

My all time favorite sports upset, though, has to be Rulon Gardner's upset of Russia's Alexandr Karelin in the 2000 Olympics for the gold medal in Greco-Roman wrestling. Karelin, who had won three consecutive Olympic golds, not only had a 13-year undefeated streak, but he hadn't been scored upon in six years. Let that sink in. No world class wrestler had been able to score a single point on him for six years.

He was a legend. Gardner, on the other hand, was some American kid that a few people had heard of. So when he not only scored a point on Karelin, but that point was enough to beat Karelin for the gold medal, wrestling fans were in disbelief.

With elements of the matchup reflecting the U.S. men's ice hockey victory over the Russian team in the 1980 Winter Olympics, the match was dubbed "The Miracle on the Mat."

I don't claim that this is a comprehensive list, but these are my favorites. Let me know if I missed any that you think belong in the top five. 

How to Pick the Perfect Bracket Using Math, Science and Modern Technology

As sports fans across the country finish making their final brackets for the men's NCAA basketball tournament, they often look for a perfect strategy or formula to ensure that they will be bringing home the honor of office pool champion.

But discovering the perfect formula is difficult, with different experts making opposite claims, and each sports website's algorithm contradicting the one before it.

In past years, I've consistently stuck to the same strategy, one that emphasized the importance of bragging rights, albeit, I now admit, inaccurately so.

You see, my thinking at the time was that when you accurately predict an upset, you get more bragging rights than if you accurately predict victory by the favored team. The bigger the upset, the greater your bragging rights.  

And so, for years I have consistently picked the ultimate upset...every 16 seed to beat every number 1 seed. The benefit of this strategy is that if even just one 16 seed pulls off the upset, you have gained the ultimate bragging rights- predicting an outcome that no one else foresaw. The only drawback is that, well... your bracket is always completely and utterly busted before the tournament even begins. And, when every 16 seed inevitably loses, the result is: no bragging rights.

So this year I've decided to change my tactics to make myself more competitive in actually winning a pool.

I have come up with what I believe will be a highly successful strategy to winning every March Madness pool, large or small.

Now, you could go to the "experts" at Yahoo!, who's picks rely on little more than speculation, or those at CBS Sports, who rely on what can only be viewed as faulty algorithms, to seek help in making a perfect bracket. But only my formula integrates advanced mathematical formulas, complex scientific theory and the most up-to-date technology to calculate the winner of each game.

First, you must start with what you know. Everything I know about college basketball I learned from my brother-in-law. It can be summarized in the following way:

North Carolina = Good Guys

Duke = Bad Guys

So, using this as our starting point, we know that we must pick the good guys to win the entire tournament. So, pick North Carolina to win every game where they appear, until you have them winning the championship game.

The next step may confuse some people. You may think that it is simple. Our second piece of knowledge is that Duke is bad, so certainly Duke must lose their first game, and immediately be eliminated from the tournament, right?

Wrong.

Every sports fan understands the truth of this basic law of physics:

For every hero there is an equal and opposite villain.

To put it another way, for those who are less of science gurus and more mathematically inclined:

Hero - Villain = No Hero

Well, certainly the good guy must be the hero and the bad guy must be the villain, and so, in order for the Tar Heels to be true heroes, they must overcome an evil villain. And because no other basketball team comes close to the villainy of the Blue Devils, they must face off, head-to-head.

Therefore, the next step is to pick Duke to win every game in which they appear, until they face the Tar Heels and are ultimately defeated in the championship game. This will result in North Carolina not only being crowned as the national champions, but also being recognized as true heroes.

Now, if you're like me, all this math and science, all these theories and formulas, are probably making your head spin. At about this point your brain is starting to hurt and you're not sure how much longer you can keep up this intense concentration.

This is where modern technology comes in.

If you are filling out a bracket online, you can just click on a team and that team's name will be filled in for you, in the next slot. You don't even have to type it out yourself. So, what you do is, you just randomly click on boxes with total disregard for what team you are picking, you don't even have to know what team you are picking, until your entire bracket is full.

And that is how you can use math, science and modern technology to win every pool you enter.  And by winning your pool, you will gain true bragging rights as the most knowledgeable basketball fan in your group of friends or colleagues. 

Fastest 40

High School Swim Class: The Horrors That Were

Based on the semi-true adventures of Molly George

Did you even know that Katie Ladecky set a new American record in the 400 IM on Friday night? The 2017 Pac-12 swimming and diving championships took place last week, and Stanford's women didn't disappoint. The Cardinal brought home their 20th title championship, setting five American records and six Pac-12 records. Quite impressive. 

Photo: Los Angeles Times

Whenever I watch these swimming greats, I can't help but to reminisce on my own swimming experience. High school was a long time ago now, but not even the over chlorinated water of my high school pool was strong enough to wash away those memories.

What's that? You didn't know I was on a high school swim team?

Well that's because I wasn't.

My memories were formed in a freshman level P.E. class that everyone in the school was required to take, and every time I think of swimming, the terrible memories of that class flood my mind, just like the water that would flood my lungs every time I accidentally wandered too far into the deep end.

I don't know what soulless monster first conceived of the idea of a required swim class, but I know that one's inability to swim was no way out of it. Nor was a highly sensitive skin condition. The only way to get out of it was if you had religious objections, but despite my pleas, my mom refused to call the school and tell a slightly fabricated story about how my religious convictions did not permit me to wear a bathing suit in public.

And so it was, I, Molly Cinderblock George, was forced to take swimming along with everyone else.

I remember the first day in the pool, our teacher told us to swim across the shallow end to the best of our abilities. I knew that when my turn came I would have two options: swim to the best of my ability, or walk across the shallow end of the pool. I could feel the dread mounting as student after student, like the most elegant Angelfish,  swam effortlessly and gracefully across the clear, glassy water.

I'd be more like a Clownfish. Except without the fish part, because fish could swim.  

Finally, it was my turn. The moment of truth. I could feel the blood rushing to my face as I took one step after another across that tiled pool floor, eyes staring at my feet, careful not to glance up at my on looking classmates.

As embarrassing as it was to simply walk, I knew that it was still less embarrassing than the alternative -thrashing around like a drunk bat with no legs. Finally, when I reached the half-way point, I looked up to my teacher, threw up my hands, and gave him the most imploring "are-you-for-real-going-to-make-me-go-on-can't-you-just-end-this-please???" look any human has ever given to another. To his credit, he complied and called the next person in line.

Well, I was informed that I didn't pass the preliminary check and would only be permitted to swim half-laps, as I may not be able to traverse the deep end.

Thank goodness!

I wouldn't have to go in the deep end! Embarrassing? Yes. But better to be embarrassed than to be drowned.

And so it was, I survived the first day of swim class. A wave of relief swept over me as I scurried toward the locker room, past my classmates, their eyes cast down in silent judgment.

I quickly jumped into the locker room shower, whose water alternated between scorching hot and freezing cold, with no in between:

Scalding coffee, bucket of ice. Scalding coffee, bucket of ice. Scalding coffee....

I couldn't take it any longer. I turned off the water before my skin began to boil off and, in the limited amount of time I had, changed into regular clothes for my next class.

But unfortunately for fourteen-year-old me, the horror of high school swim class didn't end when the second period bell rang.

The nauseating smell of chlorine had penetrated so deeply into my skin that even as I sat in my freshman level math class on the second floor in the wing opposite the first floor pool, I felt as though someone had hidden an open bottle of Clorox directly under my desk. I reached into my backpack with my bright red, scale covered hand, searching for a writing utensil. That Chlorine water wasn't exactly the miracle cure for my eczema. I shifted in discomfort, trying to keep warm as the pool water from my un-dried hair drenched the back of my T-shirt. I was already a dork, and my post-swimming appearance wasn't making things any better. I could feel the individual hairs on my head curl up and then shoot away in every direction, as if even they wanted to get away from me. I tried to mat down the resulting cobweb of frizz, running my reptilian fingers through it over and over, but to no avail.

The initial sense of relief I had felt when I had gotten out of that wretched P.E. class quickly subsided as I realized that I would have to do it again the day after tomorrow. And alternating every other day after that until the end of the semester. A sick feeling welled in the middle of my chest, and as I walked out of Algebra I, I felt as though I was going to burst into tears.

By the time my second swim class rolled around, the eczema on my face had reached its full beauty, my hands looked like they were made out of cornflakes, and my legs were beginning to feel itchy as well. If you are not fortunate enough to have experienced eczema yourself, just imagine someone took a cheese grater, grated off all the skin on your hands, legs and face, rolled you in an overgrown cactus patch, then threw you into a giant bucket of hydrogen peroxide. Every time I entered the water, I felt like my entire body was a giant eyeball and someone was squeezing lemon juice into it.

But that was not the worst part...it was not the worst part by far.

The worst part was that, unlike the other students, when I stared into the water from above, I did not see my own reflection. Instead, I saw the hazy outline of the Angel of Death, his empty shadow of a face staring back at me from just beneath the water, lurking there waiting, always waiting...

I splashed away his face with my hand, the image breaking into a thousand drops of water and vanishing in the ensuing ripples. It would be OK. I didn't even have to go into the deep end. I would just have to go near it. And that was fine. I was fine with that. I could do it. I wasn't worried about it....

...I swallowed hard.

I planted my feet against the pool wall, bent my legs, and launched myself away from it taking one stroke after another, as our teacher had shown...until...oh no! I think I went too far. I was in the deep end! I was going to drown! I thrashed and kicked until my feet hit the bottom of the pool and...oh, never mind. I was still very much in the shallow end of the pool. I guess three strokes only got me a quarter of the way across. I stood there in the shallow end and did some quick calculations. I could probably take another ten strokes before the water got to a point where it would be above my head...

Mmmmm.... Not worth the risk. It would be best to turn back now. I swam the three strokes back to the wall. Phew. I had done it. I had survived the first lap. I went to the back of the line in my lane.

The next time I went four strokes. Actually, this really wasn't so bad. I worked my way up to five strokes, then six, until... Oh crud! This time I really had gone slightly too far!

I felt the man I had seen in my reflection reach up from the depths of the pool and grab my foot with his icy cold hand. I kicked to get free as he pulled me deeper and deeper, closer to his realm. I stomped at his hollow hood over and over again, kicking and thrashing as his black robes slowly engulfed me. This was it. The water poured into my mouth. I tried desperately to break free, but his specter was at my throat, my arms and legs were tangled in his robes, and... LIGHT! My head burst above the water as I gasped for air and was quickly pulled under again. 

I tore the dark robes from around my arms, put my hands together in front of me, then pulled them apart with all my strength, parting the water before me, lurching forward. Another stroke and a hard kick of my feet and I managed to break free of his grip. It wasn't the most beautiful stroke, but I think it would be enough, just barely enough... My feet landed safely on the tiles below, my head above water. I gasped in the precious air, sputtering out water as I wondered how long the battle had lasted...hours surely, possibly even days. I looked around ready to explain to the concerned crowd that I was OK...But, what the...? I almost drowned and no one even noticed???   

I guess it wasn't that long after all, maybe only like 2-3 seconds. I swam back to the end of the line. With a new sense of generosity, I let a few people cut me in line. And then a few more.

"Oh you can go ahead of me. So can you, really, it's no big deal, go ahead...Oh I think you were ahead of me. I need to use the restroom, no need to save my spot in line!"

Finally, our teacher released us to go shower.

Scalding coffee, bucket of ice. Scalding coffee, bucket of ice.

I had survived day two of swim class. A wave of relief. Closely followed by dread. I'd have to do it again the day after tomorrow.

And so it was, I lived the rest of the semester in a constant state of anxiety, smelling like chlorine and trying to control my hair, my face turning into a gross giant rash, until finally, the last day of swim class came.

The day that I would have to swim four laps, four different strokes...And go into the deep end four different times.

If I didn't pass, I'd have to take the class again.

As I walked to the edge of the pool for our test, my nerves began to short circuit. My legs turned to mush, stomach acid began to creep up my throat into my mouth. I could feel it burn the back of my throat, the same way the pool water burned my sensitive skin. I tried to swallow, but my esophagus was quickly constricting. My heart was racing faster than Usain Bolt and my hands were shaking like a maraca. The pressure was weighing down on my chest, my shoulders, everything until my jelly legs could barely support it. I all but collapsed into the water.

After my all too graceful entry, I pulled myself together.  I was going to do this. I was going to pass this test!

And, I don't know if the prospect of enduring another quarter of high school swim class gave me super human powers, or if it was God's grace alone, but somehow, someway, I did. I passed! I, in real actual life, swam four laps in a real pool with real actual water!

I would not have to take swim class again! I was done!

I was on cloud nine. My heart sang and my soul shone brighter than every star in the sky! It was the happiest moment of my 14-year-old life.

A few weeks later, a close friend of mine was telling me about how they were trying to get more girls to go out for the swim team. She suggested that I try out.

Well, I mean I did pass swim class and I could do four different strokes....

....But some things are better left to people like Katie Ledecky. 

Hair: The final verdict

More than 40 soccer players have received a warning letter for violating the United Arab Emirates Football Association Guidelines for unethical hair. Before I heard about this, I was unaware that hair could be ethical or unethical. But the more I thought about it, the more sense it made. After all, I do tend to have a strong reaction to a person's hair, and it seems to be based on something deeper than simply my subjective preference. So I concluded that hair can, indeed, be ethical or unethical, and came up with my own standard for judging the ethics of hair. It is based on the following question:

"If I had a child, and the child came home with this hairdo, would I continue to let him or her live in my house?"

If the answer to the question was yes, I deemed the haircut ethical. If, on the other hand, the answer was no, I deemed it unethical. 

I went through some of the world's favorite athletes and sports figures and judged whether or not their hair met my criteria. 

Here are my results:

Synopsis: Nothing says good fathering like growing out a mullet to teach your son a lesson. And when you're Oklahoma State Football coach Mike Gundy, your mullet gets national news coverage, and that makes it all the better.

Final verdict: Ethical

Synopsis: Jamaican sprinter Shelly-Ann Fraser-Pryce may not have been able to bring home a third consecutive Olympic gold in the women's 100 m, but if there was a competition for best hair, Fraser's do in Rio definitely would have been in contention for the gold.

Final verdict: Ethical

Synopsis: I think former West Bromwich Albion defender Paul Scharner may have been inspired to style his hair after a certain dog-fur-loving Disney antagonist, and its as awful as she is... By the way, has anyone ever noticed the likeness a soccer ball pattern has to a Dalmatian's print? 

Final verdict: Unethical

 Synopsis: There comes a time in a man's life when he must accept the fate of his hair, look himself in the mirror and say, "I'm balding," then kiss his once beautiful locks goodbye. For Ivorian soccer player Gervinho, that time should have been long ago... Someone please buy this man a razor.

Final verdict: Unethical

Synopsis: Just when you think former Portuguese soccer player Abel Xavier's hair could not get any weirder, he goes and does something like this...

...And totally redeems himself!

Final verdict: Ethical

Synopsis: There was a time when I believed that Tim Tebow could make anything look good, but a now infamous hazing tradition by the Denver Broncos definitely proved me wrong. The great Tebow himself couldn't save this friar tuck hair cut.

Final verdict: Unethical

 Synopsis: Having long hair in combat sports is not always convenient. Many MMA fighters choose to keep their hair short, or shave it in the back where an opponent's hands are most likely to get caught and tangled in it. But I'm not quite sure the advantage that UFC bantamweight Ashlee Evans-Smith sees in shaving only the left third of her head.

Final verdict: Unethical

Synopsis: All great things must come to an end. But this past version of NHL right winger Jaromir Jagir's hair can best be described as the place where body meets soul.

Final verdict: Ethical

Synopsis: OK, so this one isn't his hair, it's a hat. But this bad boy landed Denver Broncos linebacker Von Miller on ESPN's Not Top Ten plays, quite an accomplishment if I've ever heard of one.

Final verdict: Ethical

Synopsis: No need to waste mere words on Green Bay outside linebacker Clay Matthews' style... Matthews' hair speaks for itself.

Final verdict: Ethical

Do you have a favorite athlete whose hair you think might be unethical? Post a picture and brief synopsis in the comments below, and I'll let you know my final verdict.

Love at First Fight: The Ethics of MMA and Why We Watch It

            A recent conversation got me thinking about why we watch certain sports over others and what our choice of sports tells us about ourselves. The tail end of the conversation, and the part that really got we asking these questions, went something like this:

Friend: "One sport I will never understand is MMA. I mean, really, what kind of person wants to watch two people beat each other like that?"

Me:...

            Awkward silence....followed by... more awkward silence.

            My response, or lack thereof, let him know at least one person who would watch these barbaric beatings. He seemed rather amused by this, as apparently, and I get this quite often, I don't seem like that "type."

            This conversation really got me thinking, though. Who is the "type" to watch MMA? And, as indicated by the tone of his voice when he asked "what kind of person...," is there something morally contemptible about MMA fans, or about the sport in general?

            And that's how I stumbled upon the topic of this week's blog post: The ethics of MMA and why we watch it.

            Before we can understand the type of person who watches MMA and pass moral judgment upon them, we need to have at least a loose understanding of the ethical issue at hand. The question of the morality of a sport whose objective it is to inflict injury on another to the point where they can no longer defend themselves is nothing new. Father Richard A. McCormick, a Catholic moral theologian and teacher, discussed just this in his 1962 Sports Illustrated article "Is Professional Boxing Immoral?"

            McCormick, I believe, aptly captures the essence of the problem. Though perhaps without giving a definitive answer, he illustrates why, exactly, boxing in particular poses this special philosophical question. And so, we will turn to Father McCormick's elucidation of the topic as a foundation for our own discussion.

            In a nutshell, McCormick discusses the unique position of boxing (at the time) as the only sport "whose primary objective toward victory is to batter and damage an opponent into helplessness and the incapacity to continue." McCormick sites facts to back up his position on boxing, pointing to the frequent brain injuries received during boxing bouts as evidence of its immorality.

            Here, some may argue that other sports, such as football, are immoral because they also cause brain trauma among players. However, as McCormick indicates, these injuries are incidental- that is, the purpose of football is to get the ball across the goal line in order to score points, it is not to cause head trauma. In boxing, the primary goal of the sport is to incapacitate the opponent. It is the injury caused in combination with the purpose of the sport that makes it morally questionable, not simply the fact that such injuries may result from participation in the sport. In a sport like football, intentionally trying to injure an opponent is regarded as clearly unethical. It is here that McCormick poses the important question, "If direct damage to the opponent is immoral in all other sports, why not in this business of violence?"

            He answers this question, "theologians believe that when a man pounds another into helplessness, scars his face, smashes his nose, jars his brain and exposes it to lasting damage, or when he enters a contest where this could happen to him, he has surpassed the bounds of reasonable stewardship of the human person."

            This is not the only issue at hand, either. McCormick sites the "fostering of brutish instincts" as another morally objectionable aspect of boxing, eloquently describing the concern:

"The crowd too often has come for blood and the knockout. The knockout is the touchdown pass, the home run of boxing. The nearer it is, the more frenzied the howling of the crowd... We occasionally hear the referee urge the boys to mix it up, give the fans their money's worth. When a boy is being mauled around the ring, the arena comes alive and emotions run high. The fighter is goaded by the crowd; his own fury further stimulates them. The brutish instinct is in command. At this pitch the finest moves in boxing are missed or—worse—greeted by a chorus of hissing and booing...The modern prizefight is increasingly the canonization of brute force—and that at a time when we are struggling with all our might to understand the meaning of force in the world."

            And with these two problems in mind, McCormick concludes that boxing is, indeed, immoral.

            Which brings us back to the ethics of MMA. The similarities between boxing and MMA are clear. Using the same criteria as McCormick used, it seems that certainly if boxing is immoral, then MMA, which, at least on the surface, is even more brutal than boxing, must also be. After all, McCormick was concerned about facts, specifically the facts surrounding head trauma, and a 2014 study in Ontario, Canada found that "rates of KOs and TKOs in MMA are higher than previously reported rates in other combative and contact sports."    

            So I guess the verdict is in. MMA is unethical.

            ...Or is it?

            First, some of the conclusions that may be drawn from the 2014 Canadian study, such as the inference that greater numbers of knock outs equal higher rates of traumatic brain injury, seem to be directly contradicted by another more recent study done at the University of Alberta, which found that, while MMA fighters were more likely to suffer minor injuries, such as bruises and contusions, boxers were more likely to lose consciousness during a bout or suffer serious eye injuries.

            McCormick himself leaves room for a combat sport, even some version of boxing, to be considered moral, saying, "Some, possibly many, elements of professional boxing could be radically altered, in which case it is quite conceivable that a different moral evaluation of the sport would have to be made." Could it be that MMA could meet the criteria for a morally acceptable, "radically altered," version of boxing?

            One element that McCormick takes contention with is the prominence of head shots in boxing. "...It is craniocerebral injury that recently has engrossed the attention of the medical world," he writes. "Because of the premium placed on the KO and the TKO, the head has always been the prime target in professional boxing. Blows directed to the head or face comprise about 85% of all blows delivered in the ordinary bout. Body blows are principally diversionary tactics to lay open this prime target."

            But in MMA, there are other ways to end a fight. Depending on the fighter, and his or her background, a submission may be more in store than an actual knockout. Submissions, such as chokeholds or armbars, give the fighters a chance to tapout before they suffer permanent injuries, and take away some of the "premium placed on the KO and the TKO." Given that the primary goal of the bout is no longer simply to knock another fighter unconscious, it seems that on this count, MMA is actually more ethical than boxing.

            Additionally, McCormick writes:

"... even at the professional level the differences between individual fighters are tremendous. There are those in superb condition who fight once or twice a year to defend a title—and these are the champions who are hit the least. Then there are those who all but drag themselves into the ring to have their brains rattled on a month-to-month basis. To group these together in a single sweeping rejection would be unrealistic and hazardous."

             Some fans of the UFC, the highest level of professional MMA, often complain that the fighters do not fight enough. But this is something that McCormick seems to think would make the sport more ethical, as it makes the sport safer for its participants.

            Finally, to get to the question that started it all, what kind of person does watch MMA? Is it, as McCormick described boxing fans, those brutish beasts looking for blood? Or is there something more to it, something deeper and more admirable at play? If so, then on this count, MMA would also be more ethical than boxing.

            Perhaps for some, it is the blood that attracts them. Perhaps there is a segment of MMA fans that only wishes to see harm inflicted upon another human being, and who takes pleasure in the failings of the defeated fighter. But I hope, and perhaps naively believe, that this is not the primary draw for the majority of MMA fans. And if my attempts at intellectual musings on the ethics of MMA have so far been unconvincing, seeing as it is Valentine's day and all, I will now speak from the heart.

Photo by Rey Del Rio/Getty Images

            MMA is a highly technical sport. Like any technical sport, it is an art, and a well executed move is beautiful. A submission or knockout, even if brutal, is the final brushstroke of a magnificent artwork. There's a certain tension in the fact that something so beautiful can result in something so ugly, such as a smashed in face or a broken leg. But perhaps this juxtaposition of the beautiful with the barbaric is what gives MMA its allure. It's real. It's just like life. A mix of beauty with harsh reality. And that is why, in the fighters, we see ourselves. We see the daily grind, the hard work that either pays off or doesn't. We see ourselves in the winner as well as the loser. We see our own fights in life, the ones we are going after all on our own, with no teammates to bail us out.

            So I guess the answer to my friend's question is that the type of person who enjoys watching MMA is the type of person who appreciates beauty on a deep level. Or someone who has fought some sort of battle in life, whether it be large or small. Or someone who understands the complexities of life, and sees it reflected in what may be the least likely of places. Or someone who just enjoys the sight of blood. The type of person who enjoys MMA could be anyone, really. Because just like any great work of art, it will have different meanings for different people. They will bring to the art work their own life experiences, and interpret it accordingly. For some people, no amount of study or background will make them appreciate Picasso's Guernica, just like no number of words in a silly blog post will make them appreciate MMA. For others, the sport will grow on them, but it will take time. And for the rest of us...Well, for the rest of us, it was love at first fight.