Photo by Sam Yu Paul Mann, of Myersville, takes a simulated punch from Jacob Kirwan, of Hagerstown, during a Mixed Martial Arts class at the Clinch Academy in Frederick.

But, to reach that spectacular stage, the road to MMA legitimacy begins in humble, nondescript places like the Clinch Academy, where owner/trainer Luke Rinehart oversees about 90 clients at his East Patrick Street location.

The Clinch Academy is a MMA microcosm -- the kind of gritty gym that serves as a practice venue and proving ground for up-and-coming fighters.

The humid air in the converted warehouse only supplements perspiration in the wrestlers, kickboxers and Jiu-Jitsu players who toil on the mats most days. There are few distractions -- just open space, an assortment of hanging bags and padded support posts for striking, and nary a decoration, save for Asian symbols that translate to heart, strength, technique and self-defense.

Professional fighters Jacob and Joey Kirwan of Hagerstown and Paul Mann of Myersville are among Rinehart's pupils, each having graduated from novice to amateur to expert in this diverse and often misunderstood venture.

Eventually, they decided it was time to fight for money.

"If you train at a school with a team of people," Rinehart said, "the team will let you know (when to turn pro)."

The Kirwans and Mann competed on Oct. 24 at Shogun Fights at Baltimore's First Mariner Arena, the first pro MMA event in Maryland since it was sanctioned in 2007.

The trio are trying to earn a living in a sport that's making inroads after a brutal inception in the early 1990s and the obvious stigmas of violence and bloodshed.

It's a sport that's so young, most fighters can pinpoint their initial exposure. For the Kirwans, the first card they recall included a famous title bout between UFC legends Randy Couture and Chuck

Liddell around 2003. That was a huge fight at the time, but the sport didn't enjoy its boom, galvanized by the reality TV series "The Ultimate Fighter," until '05.

Not long ago, Rinehart required his students to log a certain number of kickboxing or Jiu-Jitsu training hours before entering MMA classes, which melded those skills. That's no longer the case.

"Now it's a little different," Rinehart said, "because the demand for MMA is so big."

For instance, under the days and times for Rinehart's MMA 101 class in the Clinch Academy's brochure, it reads, "Beginner Mixed Martial Arts. No experience necessary!" (However, an athlete must complete 150 hours at the 101 level before advancing.)

The rise in popularity can largely be attributed to the UFC's powerful reach. Now, there are enough lower-level promotions, like Shogun Fights, to give rising professionals the chance to build their resumes while sharpening their skills. With enough wins on that circuit, the UFC, World Extreme Cagefighting or Strikeforce might come calling.

Dangerous duty

But, the job hazards are nasty: Strikes to the head. Appendages torqued in unnatural directions. Suffocating choke holds. And for what? Small promoters typically pay $500 to fight, $500 to win -- plus, the athletes might be asked to help sell tickets to their own bouts.

There's also the challenge of finding enough information to strategize for an encounter with the often mysterious dude standing cross-cage with hostile intentions. A lot of times, these guys are forced go on hearsay. As Joey Kirwan said, it isn't like heading into an altercation with the famously Mohawked Liddell, who has a catalogue of footage to show his revered takedown defense and devastating fists.

Finding film of obscure professionals is hard. For example, said Jacob Kirwan, "I don't put any of my fights online -- on purpose."

As for his scouting report on Shogun counterpart Brad Pole, it was predictably short: "I knew he was a southpaw and I knew I was a better fighter," he said.

Meanwhile, Mann made an unfortunately late observation upon engaging Carey Vanier, his Shogun foe: "I didn't know he was an All-American wrestler," he said.

But the dangers, unknowns and small pay don't scare away these guys. A lot of love has to come with this brand of pain. Neither of the Kirwans has a regular job now, while Mann waits tables at Olive Garden, giving him the free time to train.

Said Joey Kirwan, a middleweight at 185 pounds, "It's hard to make a living fighting at this level of shows, so I'm trying to get to the big show. ...

"I just want to be a world champion."

It's every pro's dream, and it starts by rolling on the mats in gyms like Rinehart's.

In a new sport that encompasses multiple disciplines, no two fighters have the same background or MMA baptism. The following three stories bear that out.

Adrenaline junkie

Paul Mann and Kevin "Kimbo Slice" Ferguson -- the YouTube brawler-turned-MMA-professional -- have something in common: Both have been knocked silly by a blow from Seth Petruzelli, a pink-haired former cast member of "The Ultimate Fighter."

Petruzelli, though, didn't lay out Mann in quite the same high-profile manner he exposed Ferguson last year with a 14-second TKO. That happened in a nationally televised EliteXC main event and rightly destroyed Ferguson's flimsy image.

As for Mann, he was simply rendered woozy by Petruzelli during a takedown drill when they trained together at American Top Team, a gym in Florida that has churned out UFC stars. Mann bent to shoot in when Petruzelli swung a mid-kick that blasted him near his eye, opening a cut.

"In seven or eight years of MMA," Mann said, "that's the one time I've almost been knocked out."

Mann, 23, has been fixated on MMA since he saw footage of Brazilian Jiu-Jitsu legend Royce Gracie "tearing through everybody and getting those submissions" in the first UFC events -- before weight classes and rules were instituted after Zuffa, LLC bought the promotion and made the sport more palatable to the masses.

Mann didn't take a traditional route, if there is one, to cage-fighting. While the Kirwans are wrestling-based, Mann grew up with training in karate, wrestling, Muay Thai and Jiu-Jitsu. So confident in his martial arts, Mann says, "If I was in a fight with a Samurai and I had nunchucks, I like my chances."

MMA has consumed him since age 16. He became obsessed with the mind games of fighting, reading Bruce Lee's philosophies and tossing in bed at night as techniques ran wild in his head. "I was driving myself crazy," he said.

After high school, Mann moved from West Virginia to Florida to gain his personal training certification, hoping such a career would help advance his MMA ambitions. He linked up with ATT and continued improving, but he didn't take amateur fights until he was good and ready.

One was all he needed for self-evidence. "I arm-barred (his foe) in like a minute," Mann said of his amateur debut, "and I was like, 'If I'm going to be doing this, maybe I should get paid for it.'"

He made the decision in 2006, the same year he moved to Maryland and found a new base at the Clinch Academy. His 3-5 record as a pro includes a second-round TKO loss to Vanier at the Shogun event. The lightweight bout (155 pounds) was a throwaway for Mann, who usually fights at welterweight (170). He says he took at least three illegal strikes -- a knee to the head while he was down that cost Vanier a point, another knee below the belt and, finally, "a straight upkick into the cup" that resulted in a referee warning.

All came in the first round (non-title fights are three five-minute rounds). By the second round, Mann was sapped. Vanier pounced for the tainted win.

"The one thing about me is, if it doesn't serve me well, I forget about it," said Mann, who nevertheless learned to remain composed during such a strange fight.

At least he wasn't seriously injured. He does not have health insurance -- another risk some of these professionals take.

Still, Mann's not about to quit. He's just started to learn how to balance fighting with the rest of his life.

"It's a fun experience. It's like pressing the 'Go' button and seeing what happens," Mann said. "If you're an adrenaline junkie, it's the best thing you can do."

He's got the look

Jacob Kirwan looks like a fighter. His cauliflower ears are the giveaway.

"Probably three or four times a day, people stop me because of my ears and ask (if he fights)," the 26-year-old said.

Those ears are partially the product of a wrestling career at Kent County High School that included a state championship (130 pounds) in 2000. After graduating, the Rock Hall native worked for awhile with his father as a commercial crabber on the Eastern Shore, but it wasn't for him.

He moved to Hagerstown for a job installing carpet. A couple years later, Kirwan saw an ad for "Ultimate Fighting" in a West Virginia buyer's guide, promoting a one-day, three-match tournament. Still full of competitive juices left over from their wrestling careers, Kirwan and his younger brother went.

"I don't even think it was legal," Jacob Kirwan said.

No matter. He survived on his wrestling skills, and the experience stoked his interest in MMA. Kirwan hopped from gym to gym for awhile before visiting the Clinch Academy.

"I came in as a state wrestling champ and I thought I would whip everybody," he said, "and I pretty much got thumped. I said, 'This is the place for me.'"

He built up a 6-0 amateur record. Now, he's a Jiu-Jitsu purple belt under Rinehart -- halfway up the belt hierarchy -- having transitioned well from wrestling. During one stretch of grappling and MMA competition, for instance, Kirwan tapped out four black belts.

His go-to move is a guillotine (front) choke, the submission he's used to finish four of his five professional victories as a featherweight (145 pounds) and lightweight.

He cinched it again on Oct. 24 to defeat Pole, just 1 minute, 5 seconds into the first round.

"We were going to try to keep that move a secret," Kirwan said, "but it didn't work out that way."

If he keeps winning, Kirwan (5-1) won't be a secret much longer, either.

'Crazy for fights'

When Joey Kirwan, 25, entered the cage at Shogun Fights, the event was a bit more official than his first big boxing match.

That encounter was four years ago and was the second unofficial meeting between Kirwan and his buddy, Robbie Hague. It took place in Rock Hall on Fourth of July on a friend's lawn. The bout wasn't sanctioned per se -- there wasn't even a ring -- but the local police didn't object.

Kirwan -- a self-described boxing guru ("There isn't a boxing question you can ask me that I can't answer," he says) -- and Hague had fought five years earlier in another backyard-type affair. "First time we fought, it was a really close fight," Kirwan said. "Everybody was like, 'You guys should do it again.'"

So, they started promoting their holiday bout a month ahead of time, putting flyers up in their hardscrabble hometown, a place that, according to Jacob Kirwan, "is literally crazy for fights." It was the first time Joey really prepared for a boxing match, even though he had no formal pugilistic tutelage.

"It was kind of like a real fight," Joey said. "Well, not really É but I trained and worked out for it."

Not long after the town's Independence Day fireworks, a crowd gathered around Kirwan and Hague, who went at it for two rounds. "The cops were the refs," Jacob said. "Everybody just got in a circle." Joey emerged victorious, vanquishing a foe that was four years older, held a distinct reach advantage and had a reputation as the local stud.

The result sent Kirwan, a former two-time state wrestling runner-up, in search of a boxing career. He ended up in Kentucky, where he found a gym and went 5-1 as an amateur, winning a Golden Gloves title in the novice division. Then, he moved back to Maryland and started boxing in Frederick when his brother leaped into MMA on a lark.

Joey followed.

Eventually, he racked up a 5-0 amateur record, then turned pro in October 2008. At Shogun, Kirwan beat Dan Root with a rear-naked choke in 1:30, improving to 2-2. His win sent a big group of fans from his fight-crazy hometown into hysterics.

And it pushed that crude boxing match against his buddy deep into the past.

A fighting chance

All three fighters fly in the face of MMA stereotypes. They aren't brutish brawlers covered in tattoos (although there's a little ink) and prone to rage. Each is gracious, hard-working and passionate about the sport -- traits no doubt instilled at Rinehart's Clinch Academy.

Among the three, only Jacob Kirwan has been given a nickname -- somewhat of a christening in MMA. Nicknames add to a fighter's recognition and perhaps signal an arrival. All of the sport's greats have one: Chuck "The Iceman" Liddell; Randy "The Natural" Couture.

Rinehart dubbed Jacob "The Hunter" in a nod to Kirwan's other sporting love.

His brother Joey doesn't have a moniker yet. Mann, also, is "kinda waiting for one to come along."

If they keep evolving and start stringing together wins, those nicknames might surface -- and maybe so will a big break.

It has already happened for Jacob, who last week left for Albuquerqe, N.M., to train at Jackson's Submission Fighting, headed by the sport's premier coach, Greg Jackson. Kirwan received an invitation from the camp in advance of a March fight in Maryland. Joey is expected to join him there.

As the sport grows, so will opportunities. The Kirwans' manager recently got another client into the WEC, which, under the Zuffa/UFC umbrella, features the world's best lighter-weight professionals.

"Right now, I'm 5-1, so I'm hoping to get in (the WEC) when I'm 7 or 8-1," said Kirwan, who gets paid monthly by three sponsors and also makes money by giving private lessons.

Joey Kirwan fought again on Nov. 4, earning a first-round, ground-and-pound win in Baltimore. He's the busiest of the trio. "I need the money, man," he said of the scant time between his bouts.

Mann watches the sport's elite athletes and can't help but see little of himself. "All the techniques they're doing and (moves) they're using, I know I'm capable of," he said.

Of course, all three have a long way to go. But they've gotten off to good starts, paying bills with a sport that didn't even exist 20 years ago.

Said Joey Kirwan, "I never in a million years thought I'd be doing this."