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Sometimes people refer to it as "Satan's backyard.
A crowd gathers around Wilmore, who is dressed in his usual blacks and grays, a headband around his shaved head, as he announces the day's fighters. His voice carries -- you can hear it across The Yard even when he's not talking loudly.
A place where, he says, "They won't severely hurt each other or go to jail. By his own count, he has spent nine years in and out of jail. It was in juvenile detention that he learned to box.
His Street Beefs idea has evolved into something of a club. Wilmore calls it a "safe zone" where ex-convicts and recovering addicts "can be part of something. The YouTube revenue has allowed Wilmore to quit his day job as a personal trainer to run Street Beefs full time.
He says he hopes to soon start paying those who staff security, referee or assist with Street Beefs social media. Wilmore started the channel in with a handful of posts each year. In the video production increased and by late the channel was monetized.
Street Beefs produced more than videos in Its top video, with 20 million views, is from Fighters aren't paid and there's no admission fee charged, so Street Beefs falls outside the jurisdiction of state licensing, according to state and local officials.
Harrisonburg police report occasional noise complaints, but besides that, the gatherings are left alone. There are no professional medical personnel present, no physicals required and no blood testing.
People just show up and fight. The men -- and yes, it's primarily men -- who gather are manual laborers, construction workers, furniture movers and the like. Most live within a few hours of Wilmore's renowned backyard.
One recent fighter said he'd flown in from Milwaukee. They come to release stress and anger, or to pursue an improbable dream of being discovered online and embarking on careers as professional fighters.
A few say fighting is simply in their nature.
But they almost all talk about the test in the ring, how much they respect one another's willingness to fight for no money, the punches in the face, the focus, the pain, the adrenaline -- and more than anything else, in the calm aftermath of it all, the surprising bond they feel with their opponents.
After that, I kept just wondering when the round was over. It felt like I couldn't breathe. It felt like my lungs were going to collapse. I was just out of breath, and my legs and arms felt like jello. The ounce gloves felt like 20 pounds on my hands. It's one of the best feelings when you watch someone's spirit break, when they just give up -- I can't do this no more with you.
What I learned to notice, when you take control away from somebody, you kinda watch them sink into a slump and then them just give up hope, and that's what I really like about it, watching somebody give up, knowing they can't compete.
It comes from me being the aggressor. Even when I get hit in the head -- that guy, Dirty Harry, he was elbowing me in the head and hitting me in the face, and it didn't matter to me because I wanted to break him.
I wanted to watch his spirit break even if it means I've got to rearrange my nose at the end. I like to be aggressive when the time is appropriate to be aggressive, like getting in a ring and fighting it out.
Everyone needs a way to channel their anger into something I've always used sports as my outlet for my anger. It's hard to join a wrestling team when you are 20 years old and you're not in school. I wasn't training or anything. This kid came down, his name's Sage, from New Jersey, and he wanted to fight and no one was going to fight him.
So I was, like, you know what? Win or lose, you know, I got you. And this kid's like 6-foot, probably pounds. He's got me by a long shot I'm , you know, -- It's a big difference there. But I like to gamble I went in there and gave it my all and I lost.
I went all three rounds with the guy. No one thought I was going to go three rounds. I didn't think I was going to make it past second round.
It gives you a reason to respect them.
They weren't scared, they didn't back down. I think everybody has this little thing that goes off before a fight where you feel like you want to throw up.
It's kinda like anxiety. It doesn't matter who you are going against, any of that. It's just because you know you are about to get punched in the face or vice versa. That's a place to get my anger out.
I don't have to do it at a bar or anywhere else.