Frank Mir is midway through a sponsor's photo shoot when his pregnant fiancée, Jennifer Rivera, notices a bulge in his shorts.
"Frank," she half-yells, half-whispers as nearby jujitsu combatants practice assorted death grips. "Do something about that!" Glancing crotchward, Mir deadpans: "I guess I'm happy to be here."
Here, in the literal sense, is the Las Vegas Combat Club on South Valley View Boulevard, a place where dangerous men train to deal in pain. Mir's pelvic bulge is, in a way completely, totally, unabashedly nonsexual way, mind you an apt metaphor for his career choice. Being ballsy is a prerequisite to being an Ultimate Fighting Championship competitor. It also helps to have the pain threshold of The Incredible Hulk and the patience of Job the former to weather kicks, punches and occasional lip locks with a steel fence, the latter to educate the masses on a sport assailed as "human cockfighting" by America's Moralist, Republican Arizona Sen. John McCain. In the mid-1990s, McCain nearly kicked the UFC into nonexistence, harping on the bloodshed, the over-the-top violence, the threadbare rules. UFC, he said, was a "sad commentary" on American society.
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