OK, so I finally went.

For those who have been keeping score, I've been writing about how horrible I think Mixed Martial Arts is for several months. The guys (and they seem to be all guys) who have written in, have all complained that I've never even seen a match. They invited me to this one and I took them up.

The very nice guy who promoted the thing made every effort to, as he put it, "change my mind."

No such luck, although there was one minor change. Instead of not liking MMA because of the brutality and violence, I also now don't like it because it's about as boring as a sport could possibly be. I mean excruciating.

Let me start by saying I've been called lots of things in my life, some true, some not so true, but one thing I've never been called is a wimp.

I've had more than my share of fights. I've shed blood and drawn blood. I've been held up twice at gunpoint, and once I fought the guy with the gun. And won. I've seen dead bodies and all sorts of mayhem, and my stomach has never once turned an ounce.

I may be older now. I may be more civilized. I may be much more gentle. But down deep I'm still a tough guy. Violence has not been a stranger in my life.

But even I found myself shaking my head over the awful mixture at State Fair Park Saturday night. It was a mixture of tackiness, shadiness, blood lust, vulgarity, sissykicks, beer and boredom known as the North American Fighting Championship of Mixed Martial Arts.

Let me start with the four girls just a few seats away. More butt crack in those seats than you'd see at an average plumbers' convention. And midway through one of the bouts, one of them stood, took a deep swig of beer, and shouted, "let's see some f***ing blood." Her three buddies all stood and gave her high fives.

I expected incredible mayhem with ringside doctors rushing in to apply pressure bandages to the hemorrhage from one of the fighters. Instead what I got, and what the fans got, was minute after minute after minute of one guy laying on top of another guy trying to find a way to choke him to death. Not much movement. Not much cheering. Not much anything.

And these guys didn't even seem particularly tough. I thought back to my days as a playground fighter and how when some guys got knocked down they'd lay on their back and kick their legs at their opponent. We called it sissykicking. Well, there were lots of sissykicking at State Fair Park Saturday night. It's apparently a recognized strategy in the game.

Tough guys, indeed. I'd say your average offensive tackle who's finished playing 60 minutes of football is about a thousand times tougher than any of these sissykickers.

I've got to talk about the atmosphere, as well. Some people say this group of 30-somethings is the next generation to take control. If this is them, get me out of here now.

A number of years ago I was playing a gig on Downer Avenue when the crowd got attacked by a group of skinheads. I hadn't seen a skinhead since then and wondered where they had gone. Now I know.

And the women. There was more big hair, too tight jeans (remember the butt crack comment?), cheap flashy jewelry, sprayed on tan and gum chewing than you'd find at your average Las Vegas free breakfast buffet. This was a Wayne Newton and Liberace concert without the music.

The crowd was mainly concerned with talking with each other and the folks three rows back. Everybody kept shouting at everybody else. The VIP tables (one of which I sat at) were dotted with guys who had spent one too many fights in the ring and either their girlfriends, wives or mothers. There were not many children present, thank God.

In the infrequent moments when one gladiator managed to deliver 200 quick blows to the head of his helpless opponent (thereby giving new meaning to the phrase "hitting a guy when he's down) the crowd stirred to cheer a little bit. This was when our four girls called for "some f***ing blood." But before too long it was one guy laying on another guy again.

I will say this. I don't think it's nearly as harmful as I did. It's a lot of gimmick and show and flash and not much substance. I still think the idea of hitting a guy when he's down smacks of being a brutal bully. And I don't like bullies. But if people want to pay good money to see this stuff, it's a free country.

But I've done it. I've gone. I saw a fight. And I'm done. I'm not going to argue about MMA or discuss it or even write about it anymore.

It's just not worth it.