The cage, the octagon, the being lead down a ramp like a WWE match all played into the niche audience Dana White was going for. The underground, the slight twinge of illegality, all made the sport what it is. The old fans liked when a man was lead into a ring wearing a dog collar and leash. The barbarianism of the men fighting inside a fence like a Jet Li movie made the sport cool—just like cigarettes used to be. Now that the fan base and public viewing has expanded, some of this stuff has to go. Joe Rogan, and don’t get the wrong idea, I like him, still does the broadcast and the kids love him because he was an openly admitted pot-head and hosted the Man Show for a few minutes. Still, he adds to the trashiness of the whole thing. The fighters look like backroom brawlers and the crazier you are the better. The last class act, Chuck Liddell, is gone and the classy mystic of the sport left with him. And now they’re just stuck with metal cages and guys screaming profanities about the sponsors.