King of pain

Nine miles out of Pittsburgh, in tiny Collier, some of the region's nicest but most dangerous men lurk, refining their weapons: fists, elbows, knees, feet. They practice takedowns and submissions, exhausting their bodies, minds and spirit, all in the name of a good "extreme fighting" workout.

A skull logo on a black road sign announces Eric Hibler's Pittsburgh Fight Club, just beyond the din of speeding cars on Route 279 South, in a bleak industrial patch on Campbells Run Road. The club, which opened in April in an old, flooded-out telecommunications service shop, now boasts 50 members.

Owner Eric Hibler, 42, of Scott, is quick-witted, but deadly serious, about the purpose of his club.

"I will strangle you unconscious, and then beat you up," said Hibler, in a warning to all wannabe death dealers who think the club is about the "Fight Club" movie.

Anger-issue guys and tattooed guys with Mohawk hair and bullet holes in their arms for credentials are not welcome at his club, Hibler said.

"I'm trying to be a professional," he said. "If you want to be some lone-wolf idiot, then you want to go elsewhere."

Just the opposite of latch-key kids in yesteryear's inner-city boxing gym, this club is populated by respectful young men, who happen to like martial arts. Combining boxing, kickboxing, judo and karate with no headgear and small gloves is the coda of the so-called "extreme fighting." The sport developed into a circuit in the early 1990s and has shifted from outlaw status to near-mainstream. The "human cockfighting" label is almost gone, and, to some, the R-rated brand of fighting is about good, clean fun, among athletes.

"All of these guys, I would take home to my mother," said Hibler's wife, Annamaria Carrington, about the club's clientele.

"I guess a lot of people say it's a crazy sport to be in," said fighter Kasher Vue, 26, of Munhall, who does nails at a South Hills salon for a living. His hobby is a bit of surprise to his women clientele. "'You do that• You don't seem like the kind of guy who does that,'" he said they respond.

Vue doesn't think extreme fighting is that far out of the mainstream.

"I'd rather take one good, clean punch to the head than 30 or 40 hits," said Vue, comparing what he does to an NFL running back.

There is no other professional extreme fighting club in the region, according to Hibler, but there might be a reason for that. Pennsylvania doesn't permit for-profit cage fighting. However, it borders two states that do: New Jersey and Ohio.

Hibler, a professional martial-arts trainer, sees the market's potential for growth and maxed out his credit cards to come up with the $50,000 to open his gym.

"I obviously think this sport is going to be biggest sport ever," Hibler said.

Hibler's optimism seems boundless, but his investment might not be such a gamble. Major sponsors are taking the sport into the mainstream, including cable channels Fox Sports Net and SpikeTV, which airs the Ultimate Fighting Championship series, where men often are punched to the point of unconsciousness.

The fans gravitating to the sport are young, a marketer's dream.

"Eleven-year-old kids are trying to convince me that their life is going to be on the road to the UFC," Hibler said of the calls he gets from children begging to sign up for the class.

Carrington said those calls are "disturbing," and the club does not cater to children.

Hibler will open a "submission wrestling" program for 13- to 17-year-olds starting Friday, but he limits his "mixed martial arts" instruction, which encompasses all elements of extreme fighting, to adults 18 and older.

David Sachs, 23, of Washington, Pa., is an instructor at the gym. Sachs is very polite and emphasizes training and control. Even after he was kneed in the groin during a sparring match last week, he kept his cool and later told his opponent, "nice job."

Whether people choose to embrace it or not, "this is the fastest growing sport there has ever been," and it is getting deeper, better and more regulated every year, Sachs said.

He said his club is like a family and credits Hibler for instilling a sense of respect at the gym. "It's right in the ring, and wrong everywhere else," he said of the violence.

Vue said the sport is spiritual.

"To me, it's like a religion," Vue said. It tests one's ability as a human being, and what one is able to endure, a metaphor for life, he said.

Different from Sachs and Vue's attitude, there is a nutty, fanatical side to the sport that does make Hibler cringe. People call wanting him to fight Steven Seagal, Hibler said. Seagal will be in Pittsburgh on June 20 with his rock-blues band at the Rex Theatre on the South Side.

But Hibler doesn't want to see the sport cheapened, like in the "old days."

"To me, it's the highest expression of martial arts," he said.

Hibler fought "full-contact" in the early 1990s in Wheeling, W.Va., and New Orleans, when you sneaked in and out of town under the guise of "Wrestling Tonight."

The new club is clean and modern, literally bringing the sport out of the shadows.

Hibler said his gym is a new beginning and vastly superior to the fight club Hibler ran out of his parents' two-car garage in Green Tree for years.

That garage had the bare lightbulb and broken glass ambiance of "Fight Club," he said. "That had been horrific."

Additional Information:

Eric Hibler's Pittsburgh Fight Club

Details: 412-787-1162, or www.pghfightclub.com