By T. L.
The Orange County Register

Once a month, I take my testosterone out for a spin. And for this there's not better place than the Irvine Marriott's Battle in the Ballroom, our county's nod to the seedy glam of Vegas. And though its promoter Roy Englebrecht like to tout Battle in the Ballroom as classy enough to attend with a date your your wife, in my book, anything on the short list for bachelor parties is a tough sell for the better half. If nothing else, the thong-bikinied, high heeled prancing ring girls are probably going to wilt the romance a bit. And, in fact, men usually outnumber women at the fight 10 to one. Ironically, it all happens in one of the most family themed and carefully planned cities in the county: Irvine.

Of course, a trip to one of Orange County's upscale hotels can only get so seedy; hence, the Battle's getting the nickname "Yuppie Boxing." Armani suits, white collars and ties are just as frequent as t-shirts in the grand ballroom, with esteemed businessmen such as developer Tony Moiso and Prego's owner Franco Vesci as regulars. There's no smoking, Dos Equis beer girls wait on you at your seat and crystal chandeliers hang above the ring. I've seen rowdier crowds at Little League baseball games.

Still, 25 bucks gets you a ringside seat and with a seating capacity of only 1,250, even the $25 one are better than most in Vegas; and all are softer and cleaner than any in L.A. That's the real draw, says Englebrecht, who has done promotional work for the Lakers and Kings. "Here, you're right in the action; there's not a bad seat in the house," he says confidently. Twelve years ago, when the Battle in the Ballroom fights started, he wasn't so sure. No one had succeeded in promoting fights in Orange County before, so there was no way of knowing if the market was here. The Orange Coast isn't exactly known for its blue collar workers. "For our first show." says Englebrecht, " we charged $15 and were terrified no one would show. We ended up turning away 300 people that night." Now, the monthly fights are a guaranteed sellout with sponsorship money to boot.

Which makes one believe that it's the spectacle, not the boxing itself, that's the draw here. I'm proof of that. Other than a healthy disdain for Don King, I wouldn't know the difference between a south paw and a glass jaw; but I must admit, there is some wierd primal rush in seeing two guys pound the crap out of each other. Maybe it's a reaction to the fact that right now in our society, vegetarian men are actually seeking huge monetary awards for having to dole out hamburger coupons. I mean, here are two guys willing to risk brain damage for a hundred bucks a round. Of course, many would say it takes brain damage to get in the ring in the first place - but that's beside the point...which I've forgotten now anyway because of all the talk of brain damage, vegetanarianism and Don King.

On the most recent night, there were six bouts on the card - three four-rounders, a five and six-rounder and a 10 round main event. The first three bouts ended in the first round by knockout. "I start to get a little worried," Englebrecht told me later, "When it's 8-o'clock and we're in the fourth bout, I get worried that the fans won't get enough boxing. But the fans do come to see knockouts, and they were enjoying it." There was a lot of cheering, that's true. But if my section was any indication, most fans were agitated because the rung girls hadn't had their chance under the spotlight let (Round 2 is their first cue). They were drawing more attention sitting ringside than the two fighters were standing in the ring with blood.

Things heated up, though, with the main event. It went the full 10 rounds, blood sweat and leather all flying. By the end of the fight, half of the floor was standing in the first few rows, and just by chance I happened to end up next to a man claining to be the cousin of the victorious fighter, Carlos Rubio. Of medium size, Mexican ancestry and sporing a gold pinky ring, he told me that he had $5,000 on his cousin. Then, impromptu of nothing, he turned to me and said, "So my friend, would you like to meet the champ? Five dollars. I can also introduce you to a ring girl...of course, that'll be ten dollars."