LAS VEGAS - Squirrelled away in a converted three-car garage in suburban Las Vegas, a producer sits in front of a bank of 11 TV screens. Each one is split into four feeds, showing different angles of the attached house. Two laptops, assorted mixing boards and electronic doohickeys sit neatly below the monitors.
Welcome to Mission Control for "The Ultimate Fighter" reality TV show.
Take 16 mixed martial arts fighters and divide them into two teams. Then stash them in a gilded cage for six weeks, denying them access to TV, computers, telephones, books or any other contact with the outside world save for trips to the UFC training centre to work out or fight under the tutelage of marquee fighter-coaches.
Add booze and cameras, and watch what happens.
Cast members battle it out until only two are left in whatever weight classes are being contested that season. The finalists go on to meet on a live televised card, with the winner earning a contract to fight in the UFC.
The show has been a huge part of the UFC's success, with president Dana White calling it the organization's "Trojan Horse" to get on TV.
The UFC had to put its money where its mouth was at first. Season 1, which debuted in January 2005, cost the UFC US$10 million to produce. Spike TV paid nothing for the show, providing only the airtime while the UFC had to find the advertising.
Now the show is an MMA institution.
Season 9 debuts Wednesday (Spike TV, 10 p.m. ET and Rogers Sportsnet, check local listings) and a casting call for Season 10 is scheduled for Monday in Seattle.
Co-executive producer Andrea Richter serves as the show's behind-the-scenes ringmaster. A veteran from Day 1, Richter marshalls the small army on hand to document every moment of the fighters' lives.
"There's no place in their world they can escape us," Richter explained during a visit to the house during shooting of Season 9.
There are surveillance cameras located throughout the house and training centre to alert producers what's happening 24-7. Producers call camera crews into action when something promising is developing -- or just have them roam around the fighters.
Inside the training centre, there's even a surveillance camera in the washroom.
The fighters are even filmed in transit. Cameramen accompany them in the vans used to take them from the house to the gym and back. "We get some of the best conversations in the van ride," according to Richter.
Richter is always on call, but says the crew is getting good at anticipating blowups.
"There's very little you can hide when you're in here 24-7, so we can tell if somebody's starting to get on edge and they're always doing confessionals so they're telling us what they're really thinking. Generally if something's about to explode, we have all hands on deck anyway because we're 99.9 per cent of the time able to anticipate that something's going to blow soon."
Most of the production crew are veterans of reality TV -- Pilgrim Films & Television specializes in the genre, churning out series ranging from "American Chopper" and "American Hot Rod" to "Bounty Girls: Miami" and "Extreme Loggers."
Richter, a veteran of "Paradise Hotel," "Forever Eden," and "Love Cruise," says movement among reality TV shows is common. But not with this one. The crew is so loyal many took a pay cut to be involved, according to Richter.
The reason is simple, she adds.
"To me there's very few reality shows . . . where this changes these guys' lives. This is their livelihood. That to me is amazing, that we're helping them achieve their dream."
The Vegas crew numbers about 100 when the show is up and running. That includes nine camera crews, each consisting of a camera, audio and camera assistant. The non-locals are put up at rented apartments.
Shifts last 10 hours for crew, 11 for producers, and 12 or more for production staff. It's a six-day work week, with bodies rotated in to fill the gaps.
"We don't stop filming," Richter cautions. "Once we start, we don't stop."
It's a tight schedule. Filming on Season 9 started in Vegas on Jan. 23 and wrapped up Feb. 24.
"Obviously every episode is different depending upon the schedule but generally episodes encompass about three days," said Richter, "and we probably send back about 70 half-hour tapes per day. So it's a lot of footage."
A staff of 20 to 25 in Los Angeles goes over the tapes, digitizing them and matching them to producers' notes.
A good number of each cast graduates to the UFC these days and the "six-figure contract" going to the winner is not quite as attractive when you realize it is spread out over several years. But the show's premise remains true -- fight your way into the major leagues of mixed martial arts.
The show has served to educate viewers on the sport while allowing them to develop ties to one graduating class after another. White calls the Pier Six brawl between Forrest Griffin and Stephan Bonnar in the finale of Season 1 one of the sport's turning points. Griffin went on to win the light-heavyweight title, then lose it to Season 2 winner Rashad Evans.
Producers have tweaked the format. Season 4 was devoted to fighters making a comeback while the new season pits American against U.K. fighters. And in a bid to add drama, cast members now have to fight their way on to the show via an elimination bout.
It's not for everyone. While each season offers different fighters and storylines, much remains the same.
Some worry the drunken hijinks may end badly one day. And not every demographic chuckles when a grown man seasons someone else's food with urine or semen.
Once inside, the fighters aren't allowed to talk to the camera crews, only the producers. Still Richter says it doesn't take long for them to become accustomed to being under the spotlight.
"The first couple of days they get a little sensitive to it or they'll stop when a cameraman walks in," said Richter. "Really after the first two days, I would say, they ignore us completely."
Conditions in the Vegas house are anything but five-star for the crew. The garage HQ is pokey, to be polite. Soundproofing and a lock separates the crew quarters from that of the fighters.
"We can go in on them, they can't come in on us," Richter said.
The roomy house itself is located at the end of a cul-de-sac, with a view of the Strip in the far distance from the front of the house balcony. In the big backyard, there's a pool, hot tub, basketball court -- even a trampoline built in the ground.
Inside the house, the decor could be called frat house-chic. There's not much furniture and some of the doors and walls are adorned with U.S. or British-themed murals for this season.
The bedrooms are spartan, with bunk beds and as many as four fighters to a room. Photos of girlfriends, wives and children are taped to the wall, offering a reminder of their normal world.
Inside the pantry, brand names of everything from cans of pineapple slices to juice and beer bottles are taped over to avoid product placement issues. Only bottles of UFC water remain untouched.
After some wild nights during previous seasons -- it cost the UFC $70,000 to replace a staircase that was ripped down -- there is a strict "you break it, you bought it," policy in effect.
Producers take pictures of the house being used each season to ensure they return it in the shape in which they got it. And Richter says the show makes for a good tenant.
"The thing is we're very quiet," she said. "It's not like we throw big parties. They're not allowed to have music. The most you may get at night is a screaming match that's not going to last very long.
"That's also why we're out in the middle of nowhere as well. We can't film in subdivisions with homeowners associations and that kind of thing. We try to find a house that's as far out with as few neighbours as possible. We talk to the neighbours all the time to make sure they're happy. If you see out front, all of our cars are parked down the street, because these are their homes and we don't ever want to take advantage of that or be an annoyance."
Fighters are allowed to request food and supplies during the show. Season 6 alumnus Ben Saunders advises spending some time in a Wal-Mart before entering the house.
"Just walk around and write stuff down that you could potentially ask for -- to order food-wise for your diet or entertainment-wise, things that they might actually get you," he told The Canadian Press after his stay in the house.
Once trapped inside the house, you can't visit a supermarket to peruse the nutrition label on food items. And it helps to have a list of objects the show's producers may get you -- like a tennis ball to throw against the wall.
Richter instructs the cast members before taping begins each season.
"When we bring these guys into the house, part of that first two-hour speech and part of what we remind them of is we're here to tell their stories as athletes, so come in and be whoever you want, but be honest because that's what's going to be the best for you, for your career. Don't go and hide in a corner, if you go and hide in a corner and we never see you all season, then no one's ever going to know who you were or care if you fight or not. Even if you win the show."
Perhaps because of that, Canadian Patrick Cote hardly got a look on Season 4. But boozy bad boy Junie Browning was front and centre on Season 8.
Some of his fellow fighters suggested Browning was playing to the cameras but Richter says the house affects people in different ways.
"That's the thing that outsiders don't necessarily know coming into this situation is that being in this house and not having anyone you can talk to and not having any control over your lives, it affects people in ways that they never understand or have any grasp of. It's a very strange environment for these guys. So a lot of times are they going to do things that they would do at home? No, they're going to act completely different.
"I don't know what Junie is like outside of here. That's how this house and the people inside the house affected him."
Said Browning: "But I'm always the outspoken one, the one who tries to be loud and entertaining and stuff. There just happened to be cameras there too."
