From the South Florida Sun-Sentinel

Hard knocks at the Hard Rock

For a spot on the ultimate reality show, fighters took over the ultimate party spot.

by T.M. Shine

December 13 2006

"This isn't American Idol," a guest says while peeking into a ballroom at the Seminole Hard Rock Hotel and Casino.

It sure as hell isn't.

Spike TV is holding an open casting call for the fifth season of The Ultimate Fighter, a reality show in which 16 contestants live together and battle to elimination, and a crowd of aspiring gladiators is spilling out into the hallway. "When we did this in Boston a couple of seasons ago, only 140 people showed up," Spike TV spokesman David Schwartz says. "Here, guys were camping out last night. We didn't expect this."

Moments ago, you could spot the reality-show hopefuls walking up State Road 7 toward the Hollywood hotel for a chance at earning one of the spots on the series and the grand prize of a contract with the Ultimate Fighting Championship, or UFC (Ufc.com). A member of Team Voodoo loped up the sidewalk two-handing an Egg McMuffin while another fighter -- whose girlfriend was carrying his gym bag -- picked up the pace, with both trying to make the 9 a.m. sign-in.

The concept of time is going to get smashed and slammed senseless here today. By midafternoon, with a head count of more than 250 fighters, the casting call will have run late and the whole mess will be forced out behind the Hard Rock into a loading zone surrounded by industrial towers. Mats will be thrown down, and the fighters who make it to the second round will be asked to form a human cage around them so contestants won't fly out onto the concrete.

No, this isn't American Idol.

"And no, we didn't expect this turnout. But maybe we should have. South Florida is a hotbed for us right now," UFC President Dana White says.

Two of the most-talked-about contestants, Mike Bruno and Cole Miller, are members of South Florida-based American Top Team (Americantopteam.com). The squad's 20,000-square-foot training facility in Coconut Creek is often referred to as the mecca of mixed martial arts, boasting a coaching staff that includes Olympic gold-medal boxer Howard Davis Jr. and Brazilian jiu-jitsu guru Ricardo Liborio.

"Getting on The Ultimate Fighter will blow your career up quicker than anything else -- period," says Richie Guerriero, general manager of American Top Team.

Maniac UFC heavyweight Jeff "The Snowman" Monson also trains at ATT. Mario "Big Hurt" Rinaldi and Thiago "Pitbull" Alves train there, too, as do plenty of guys without cool nicknames.

"Cole is one of the best fighters out here. Most of these guys are not on his level," says UFC pro Charles McCarthy, who is hobbling around on crutches fresh off ACL surgery following his previous fight.

McCarthy appeared on The Ultimate Fighter 4: The Comeback. "We didn't have to try out like this because it was all established veterans last season," he says. "But this is tougher. It takes more than skill. Good or bad, you have to make them form an opinion about you immediately. Cole's got personality, but the tip I gave him is, 'Be yourself -- times 100.' "

Or a thousand. This is the only open casting call TUF is holding for season five, and the ballroom is stocked with so many competitors from across the nation that the notion of standing out appears impossible. The fighters will have only minutes to prove their fighting skills and reveal their personalities.

"I'm one of the most serious guys here," Justin Wilcox of Erie, Pa., says. With cartoonishly large thighs, calves and biceps, he looks like an action figure who just busted out of the blister pack. "If you're anybody, you had to be here," he says, manically hopping up and down.

Even Alaska has sent representatives. "No one guy here can do more damage to us than we do to ourselves training back in Alaska," Tim Hendricks says. He and his buddy, Doug Evans, endured canceled flights and midnight car rentals to reach the competition, which is open to all fighters in the 155-pound lightweight class.

"We left two days ago and finally just landed this morning," Hendricks says. "To get here on time, we had to be the first off the plane. We were elbowing businessmen and spiking babies to get off the flight first."

Somewhat the antithesis to the raging scene around him, Mike Bruno is sitting at a table methodically filling out release forms and looking like someone Hendricks might have just elbowed on the airplane. Except his commute was only from Boca Raton. He and his brother, Steve Bruno, are both wearing pinstripe suits and bear a remarkable resemblance to the Super Mario Brothers all dressed up for a Mafia funeral.

Steve Bruno came along only for support, but all the other competitors are stripped down to their gym clothes, ready to battle. For Mike, this doesn't make sense. "I'm looking at this as just another day of business," the 20-year-old explains of his attire.

"There are a lot of characters here," his brother adds, looking at a fighter with an orange Mohawk and pulling at the lapels of his own suit. "We're characters."

"Most of these guys here don't even know about the sacrifice of training. I'm going to have to explain to the people who run the show how I'm different from everybody else," Mike says.

And what makes him different?

"My work ethic. My character," he says. "My obsession with being No. 1."

While Bruno is doing his paperwork, the show's promoters have begun ushering 40 fighters at a time into another ballroom next door, where a huge matted area has been set up for grappling.

"This is not a big fucking deal. Relax, do what you do every day in the gym," UFC President White tells the first group. "No heel hooks, no arm cranking, no slams. Don't go crazy on each other. If you get submission, we'll know you got it; just let go."

A panel of Spike TV producers and network executives sits at a long table to do the evaluations. White calls up individual fighters for two-minute matches.

Most of the fighters seem prepared and thrilled to prove themselves in 120 seconds. But not Joe Mertens of Wisconsin, who is decked out in excessive jewelry. White asks him to remove each piece, which includes several earrings. The proceedings come to a screeching halt as Mertens delicately removes the jewelry and sets it on a table.

"I should probably just go home now," Mertens declares after his unexceptional match.

Roger Krahl, a local UFC fighter who is here to hold striking pads for the fighters to hit during the tryouts, empathizes with the contenders. "Guys are used to warming up and training for hours," he says. "It's tough to show what you've got in two minutes."

And what exactly is Spike TV looking for in these brief battles?

"I asked the producers, 'What do you want? What are you looking for?' " says Din Thomas, who appeared on the show last season. "And they said, 'I don't know.' "

While most of the judges are bullshitting and munching on sandwiches, White never takes his eyes off the fighters. He's as far from Vince McMahon and the WWF as the leader of a brutal sport can get. He makes small talk with each challenger and gazes into his eyes with intensity and passion. If this were speed-dating, you'd ask him for his phone number.

"You know how far some of these guys have come," White explains. "You're always going to get lunatics who have been training in their basements and shit. But most of these guys are serious. I take it as serious as they do."

And no one is taking it more seriously than Mike Bruno.

"It's about who wants a lifelong experience, who's going to step up to another level," says Bruno, still wearing his business suit and waiting behind several groups of 40 for his shot.

He pats the left breast of his suit jacket: "I've got my mouthpiece and head gear right here. And I'm wearing my cup and shorts on underneath."

So he's going to keep the suit on right up until the time he's called over to the judges' panel, then pull some kind of Superman act?

"Yeah," he says matter-of-factly.

Did he practice this maneuver?

"I've gone over it a million times in my head," he says confidently.

But taking off an entire suit? Watching Mertens remove his jewelry was terminal enough.

"I gotta stand out," Bruno explains.

Miller is up next, and several members of American Top Team race over. As soon as he begins to grapple with his opponent, it becomes clear that two minutes is enough time for a fighter to prove himself. Miller is a blur of choreographed moves that only he can explain. "Started off with a butterfly sweep," he says after the match. "Wanted to attack but had to wait for him to come to me, then I went for the guillotine and finished with a triangle choke."

A television crew covering the event pulls him over, and he immediately says, "I'll be on the show for sure. I'm a shoo-in."

Finally, Bruno's name is called among the next list of 40 competitors. When his group enters the room, the promoters direct all the fighters to the far end of the mats, but he stays solo on the opposite side.

The other combatants are stripping down, grunting, stretching, pacing and bouncing off the walls. But Bruno just stands there with his hands in his suit pockets, as if he's waiting for a train.

The moment of reckoning comes sooner than expected, and the ultimate fighter in the business suit is racing toward the judge's table. Bruno stops short in front of White and starts tugging at the suit and plucking its buttons. But the slow-motion scene is like dead air on the radio as White impatiently stands by. Earlier in the day, this would have made for some welcome comic relief, but now, the promoters are feeling rushed because 60 fighters remain and they have the room for only another 10 minutes.

As Bruno drops his pants, he looks more like a stripper than Superman. The crowd is howling with laughter, and one fighter actually runs up and lays a $5 tip on him. He rips his shirt open, letting the final few buttons fly, and stumbles over to shake White's hand.

People are still giggling midway through Bruno's match when he turns into a round-shouldered torpedo and blasts his opponent in the chest headfirst. It's the move of the day, but nobody seems to know what it's called.

"It's Russian! It's Russian!" his brother Steve shouts. "That's all I know."

That, and Mike Bruno is definitely going to the next round.

"They were laughing at me," he says, coming off the mats. "But I think I backed it up."

Everyone at American Top Team thinks he backed it up. "The suit, a brilliant move," ATT instructor Liborio agrees.

As Bruno changes clothes for the next round, which will involve hitting and striking, he looks down at the crumpled bill in his shoe. "At least it was a five," he says.

Contestants who have made the initial cut are herded out behind the hotel to the makeshift fight zone. "I need everybody to move in!" White yells. "Let's build a wall so nobody hits the fucking concrete with this clusterfuck thing we got going on here."

This is more like it: everyone squeezed in, falling on top of one another, the battlefield shrunk to a quarter its original size, the human fence shoving fighters back at their opponents and the proceedings nearing dusk in a back parking lot.

The top contenders will form an elite group of 75 who will be invited to Las Vegas for in-depth interviews. Then, the final 16 will star in the new season of The Ultimate Fighter, which is scheduled to premiere in April.

While waiting for his next opponent, Miller keeps nodding and repeating his mantra: "Shoo-in."

But Bruno still has one question: "Who wants to have a life-changing experience?"

The next UFC and Spike TV fight-night event will be held Jan. 25 at Hard Rock Live in the Seminole Hard Rock Hotel and Casino, 5747 Seminole Way, in Hollywood. It will also be broadcast live on Spike TV. The main bout has yet to be named, but look for details soon at Ufc.com.

Postscript: Thanks to Cole Miller's combination of skill and personality times 100, he was selected by the judges to go to Las Vegas for an in-depth interview and a real shot at being one of the final 16. Mike Bruno did not make the cut.