MMA at the 19th Asian Games: Empty Seats and the Power Race to Reach the Olympics

On the second day of MMA competition at the 19th Asian Games, Lee Bo-mi sat down on the blue mat, clutching her shoulder and crying. The heavy takedown in the women’s 54kg semi-final had just ended, but the aftermath was still written on her face. There was no roar from the crowd. Most of the seats around the arena were empty. Looking around, I saw no sponsor logos. Anyone who has spent years in sports understands what this emptiness says. When the stands are empty, I hear the breathing of the match – and find my own voice.

This is the first time MMA has appeared at an Asian Games, and the way it is organized tells a much larger story than the strikes on the mat. That story is not in the cage, but in the corridors of Asian sports power.

MMA, or Mixed Martial Arts, was once called human cockfighting for decades. The bloody image, punches to a downed opponent, the screaming crowd – all created a stigma that is hard to erase. The decision by the Olympic Council of Asia to include MMA in the official program of the 19th Asian Games is a historic milestone. But to get there, the sport had to change itself. No cage, no elbow strikes, no knees to the head of a downed opponent. Fighters wear traditional uniforms and shin guards. Galastein Tan, secretary general of the International Federation of Mixed Martial Arts, calls this rule set athlete-safety-centric. He openly admits that hardcore MMA fans may not like it. But FIMMA’s goal is clear: to take MMA to the Olympics.

I have followed many Asian Games and World Cups, and I know one thing: elite sport always has two layers. The first is what fans see on the field. The second is what happens in meeting rooms, where federations, committees and informal patrons meet. The name I mispronounced years ago was the most expensive lesson journalism gave me. Since then, I always spend time reading files, checking sources and observing the smallest details. The smallest detail at this year’s Asian Games is the absence of sponsor logos on the advertising boards.

If you only look at the surface, you might think FIMMA is reforming MMA for the benefit of athletes. But looking closer, I see a regulatory product designed for a special client: the International Olympic Committee. The essence of this rule set is to redesign the sport according to the political standards of the IOC, not according to the needs of fans. Removing the cage, banning elbows, banning knees to a downed opponent, requiring traditional uniforms and shin guards – all of this reduces open wounds and violent imagery. It makes the sport easier for the IOC to accept. But it also weakens the original appeal of MMA. A world-class fighter may feel restricted without elbows in close quarters. A UFC fan will find this version less ferocious.

Alexander Engelhardt, FIMMA’s executive vice president, offers another reason for switching from cage to mats: there is always a judo mat, it is easier for training and to set up competition. That sounds practical, but it is really an infrastructure-cost argument. Judo mats are cheaper than cages, easier to transport and can be placed in any multi-purpose hall. This opens the possibility of holding events in more cities at lower cost, helping FIMMA expand its influence quickly. This strategy is disguised as safety, but the real motive is expansion capability and operating cost. A federation seeking IOC recognition must prove it can organize events in many countries. The mat is the perfect tool for that goal.

Is the safety story real? Partly. Banning the most dangerous strikes certainly reduces risk. But the takedown that left Lee Bo-mi in tears on the mat shows an uncomfortable truth: safety in MMA is relative, and any claim of absolute safety can be contradicted by a single moment on the floor. Fighters can still suffer serious injuries from takedowns, from punches, from mechanical pressure on the shoulder or knee. When an injury appears on the second day of competition, the gap between message and reality begins to show.

What interests me is not only the rule set, but who stands behind it. FIMMA was only founded last year. But its predecessor is directly linked to Gordon Tang – a billionaire and vice president of the Olympic Council of Asia. It is through this relationship that MMA appears at the Asian Games, and it is through the Asian Games that FIMMA gains an institutional platform larger than any rival. This is a massive political advantage, but also a potential conflict of interest that the IOC will have to examine carefully. When an OCA vice president helps create a federation, and that federation is then placed on the Asian Games program by the OCA, the question of independence cannot be avoided. Journalists have a principle: if information seems too convenient for those in power, trace its origins. The origin of MMA at this Asian Games begins with a personal relationship, not a public bidding process.

FIMMA is not the only organization claiming to represent world MMA. The Global Association of Mixed Martial Arts, GAMMA, calls itself an international federation and runs its own championships. This is becoming a two-player race with a single prize: IOC recognition. In one sport, the IOC usually recognizes only one international federation. Whoever is recognized can propose the sport for the Olympic program. Whoever is not recognized is pushed to the margins. This is a winner-take-all mechanism: no bronze medal, no consolation prize.

Currently FIMMA leads institutionally through its Asian Games slot. GAMMA may have a longer history and its own international events, but it lacks a clear continental platform. Meanwhile, a core issue remains unresolved: there is no universally accepted rule set. Each organization offers a different version of the rules. This lack of unity is the biggest barrier on the road to the Olympics. The IOC cannot recognize a sport whose rules change from place to place. If FIMMA wants to win, it must defeat GAMMA in the meeting room and convince the world that MMA has a single rulebook that is clear and safe enough.

One of FIMMA’s strongest claims is that MMA has a massive global following. But the evidence at the 19th Asian Games does not support that claim. Empty seats are a market signal, and that signal says the safe, cage-free, elbow-free version of MMA has not yet created enough commercial appeal. The absence of sponsor logos in the media zone reinforces that observation. A sport with genuine global appeal will not lack sponsors even on its debut day. Their absence suggests brands are still watching, not ready to bet on a product that is new and controversial.

I remember a reporting trip at an Asian youth championship, where a new sport was added to the program with high expectations. The stands were full on the first days, but most spectators were invited relatives and officials. By day four, when matches no longer decided medals, the arena was empty. I do not write to be loved; I write to make people stop. One of the things that makes me stop at this Asian Games is the gap between talk of a global fan community and reality in the stands.

Of course, one could argue that MMA has just appeared at the Asian Games and Asian audiences are not yet familiar with this version. The schedule may clash with popular sports such as swimming or athletics. Media coverage is still limited. But when analyzing a sporting event, I always ask: can a discipline survive if it relies only on political patronage without real commercial demand? I am not sure.

There is a chance I am being too harsh. New federations often need time to build a brand. FIMMA prioritizing the IOC over hardcore fans may be a sensible short-term strategy: gain institutional recognition first, then refine the rules to satisfy fans. If the IOC sees a clear rule set, a development roadmap and a federation capable of organizing events, it may be ready to recognize FIMMA despite conflict-of-interest issues and commercial weakness. Olympic history contains many cases where sports entered the program through political pressure rather than fan enthusiasm. Judo and taekwondo were also doubted before becoming Olympic sports.

I could also be wrong about the absence of sponsors. During large multi-sport games, sponsors usually sign contracts with the organizing committee, not with individual federations. FIMMA logos may be absent because of OCA advertising policy, not because FIMMA cannot attract sponsorship. In addition, early-round attendance cannot represent the entire Games. An attractive final could fill the seats and change the story.

But even if I am wrong on details, the structure of the problem remains. MMA at the 19th Asian Games is stuck between two pressures: safe enough for the IOC, exciting enough for fans. The silence after the final whistle is the paragraph I most like to write. It lets me see what is left after all the rhetoric about safety and global appeal fades. What is left is an unfinished sport, an unresolved power race, and a big question for the IOC: are they recognizing a sport, or a relationship?

If MMA is recognized by the IOC in the coming years, the entire value chain will change. Sponsors will arrive, national events will multiply, athletes will have more incentive to invest. If the IOC chooses GAMMA or recognizes no one, the Asian Games could become a temporary playground where fighters compete for medals rather than for the future of their sport. This affects MMA deeply and shows how emerging sports must lobby for a place in major games. Who controls the federation leadership? Who has relationships with the Olympic Council of Asia? Who can organize events at low cost? These questions matter more than fighting technique.

For Vietnamese fans, a country with many traditional martial arts, this story has a special meaning. MMA may not be the number one sport in Vietnam, but its appearance at the Asian Games opens opportunities for young athletes who want to try a discipline seeking Olympic status. If FIMMA or GAMMA manages to unify the rule set, Southeast Asian countries could quickly train fighters capable of competing at continental level. But if the power struggle continues, athletes will suffer most, because they will not know which flag they fight under or how much their medals are worth internationally.

Watching an MMA semi-final at the 19th Asian Games, I not only saw takedowns, punches and Lee Bo-mi’s tears. I saw a paradox. A sport famous for its ferocity is trying to become gentle in order to be accepted. Organizers talk about safety, but injuries still happen. Leaders talk about massive followings, but stands are empty. The powerful people behind the federation are the same people controlling the door the federation wants to enter. In that situation, giving an Olympic place to MMA should not be based only on promises of safety or political backing. It needs injury data, commercial revenue, attendance numbers and a unified rulebook tested over time.

I do not have a final answer about who will win the race between FIMMA and GAMMA. I only know that the field never lies. Empty seats tell the truth. Athletes’ tears tell the truth. The story of a sport trying to clean up its image to catch the IOC’s eye also tells the truth, even if those involved do not want to hear it. If FIMMA wants to prove MMA deserves a place at the Olympics, it will need more than statements. It needs a packed Asian Games, sponsorship deals, a rulebook accepted around the world, and a clear answer about the relationship between Gordon Tang, the OCA and decision-making. Only then will the story of MMA at the Asian Games really be a story about sport, not about power.

When the stands are empty, I hear the breathing of the match – and find my own voice. Writing about sport has always been like that for me: not to create myths, but to look at the gaps others ignore. This year at the Asian Games, that gap lies in the middle of a blue mat, where a fighter cries from pain, and around her an entire structure of power waits for its reward.