Pulver is indicative of MMA contrasts

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Jens Pulver is a squat, tattooed, 145-pound pussycat of a man. He chokes up when talking about his 5-year-old daughter. He admits to suffering anxiety attacks on long flights and before fights. He lovingly strokes a 4-week-old Yorkie curled in his girlfriend's lap while the two are seated on a couch in the lobby of a hotel.This is a guy who washes his hands after using the restroom, for heaven's sakes.So this is what I am struggling to understand: How can this sensitive guy with such a compelling life story -- a saga of overcoming physical abuse, poverty and emotional trauma -- derive so much enjoyment from punching, kicking and grappling for a living? From such an undeniably violent (and, some would say, barbaric) sport? "I was going to be a jockey," explains Pulver, who lost a decision to Urijah Faber in a World Extreme Cagefighting featherweight bout Sunday night at Arco Arena. "Then I grew seven inches, so I wrestled all through high school and college. When MMA (mixed martial arts) came along, I thought it was great because I wanted to keep training. To be part of everything that's going on right now is incredible."Cagefighting is threatening to supplant boxing in the sporting consciousness, particularly in its targeted 18-to-34-year-old male demographic. There also is anecdotal evidence suggesting that young women are rapidly gaining interest, and, perhaps more significantly, that an increasing number of middle-age men are peeking at online videos and television highlights.MMA is not for everyone, though. In many homes and some social circles, cagefighting is considered the human equivalent of cockfighting, a dirty, nasty, immoral activity that should be outlawed. Mere mention of the word -- cagefighting -- makes some of us cringe. Yet despite the persistent efforts of longtime critic Sen. John McCain, the sport not only has been sanctioned by most states, the enhanced media exposure and popularity growth are undeniable; today's bout is expected to attract a record crowd of more than 10,000."It's a little bit elementary to say, 'This is violent and disgusting, or violent and gratuitous,'" says Dave Czesniuk, the director of operations at Northeastern University's Center for the Study of Sport in Society. "This type of aggression is thousands of years old. Boxing, hockey, football, all of those sports are violent, even brutal. I don't see how it's all that different. Personally, I would like to know more about the culture and the people who compete."Count me among the curious. For those unfamiliar with the personalities and the nuances of WEC and its parent company, UFC, which specializes in the heavier weight classes, cagefighters provide a bit of a shock; there is a surprising civility in their presentation.The pre-fight Pulver-Faber news conference on Friday, for example, offered none of the ridiculous boasting and rehearsed theatrics so common in the other combat sports; the session instead was informative and useful, the athletes image-conscious and almost painfully polite. They praised each other, thanked the media, thanked their sponsors, offered so many thanks that you looked around for the turkey and stuffing.While local favorite Faber, with his long, wavy hair and boyish features, is the face marketed to the youth, Pulver, at age 33, is the popular pioneer, the chiseled 5-7 veteran referred to as an MMA "legend."Numerous publications have detailed Pulver's troubled background, but his story still makes you bleed from the heart.Shuttling between Oregon and Washington to accommodate his father's schedule as a jockey, Pulver and his three siblings witnessed and endured recurring abuse. According to Jens and his younger brother, Abel, an elementary school teacher who joins the conversation in the hotel lobby, everyone in the family was routinely beaten."I remember him lining all of us up," Pulver said of his father, "and sticking the shotgun in my mouth."Estranged from their sister, father and brother, they credit their mother with motivating them toward college and careers. "She deserved to have at least two of her kids get college degrees," says Jens, a Boise State graduate.Asked why someone with such an abusive past would embrace a violent career path, Pulver shakes his head, refusing to consider a personal/professional contradiction. "Boxing is worse," he insists, "because they spar and keep absorbing punches. We can't do that."Pulver tosses a few playful punches into the air, then his mood suddenly darkens. He reveals that his former girlfriend is moving to Arizona this week with their 5-year-old daughter, Madeline, and then starts to cry. "Now," he says, "I have to go from seeing my daughter every day to seeing her ... "He leans back, swipes at his eyes. "I can't think about that until after the fight," he says. "When you think about where I came from, where this sport was 10 years ago, this is an honor, just an honor. Most of us are college-educated, really good guys. People just need to give us a chance."(Contact Ailene Voisin at avoisin@sacbee.com.)(Distributed by Scripps Howard News Service, www.scrippsnews.com.)