In the age of viral content and short dopamine hits, few of these modern spectacles have gained traction quite like “Power Slap.” “Power Slap” is an open-handed striking contest that originally began as a reality TV show on TBS but has since turned into a full-fledged competition with official championships, large prize pots and a fairly significant viewership base. Since its mainstream debut in 2023, “Power Slap” — the product of current UFC CEO Dana White — has ignited a debate revolving around the question of if it is a real sport or just a brutal spectacle.
The structure of the competition is simple: two competitors stand inches away from each other, taking turns slapping each other in the face with an open hand. A coin toss decides who strikes first, and the recipient must stand still — no flinching, no blocking. After a slap is delivered, the defender has 60 seconds to recover before it’s their turn. Most matches last three rounds, with title fights going five.
It’s a shocking format, but despite the competition’s brutal nature, “Power Slap” is officially licensed by the Nevada State Athletic Commission. White, ever the promoter, insists that it’s safer than boxing.
“In Slap, they take three to five slaps per event. Fighters in boxing take 300 to 400 punches per fight,” White told The New York Times.
The organization also requires all athletes to undergo medical testing and be monitored by health officials during and after competition. Supporters argue “Power Slap” offers a unique and accessible path into combat sports.
Danie “Pitbull” van Heerden, a slap fighter from South Africa, put it bluntly.
“Power Slap is the only sport that you can come from a couch, and you don’t have to be that fit,” van Heerden said to Reuters.
For some, the accessibility could be life-changing, giving the average person a shot at fame if they’re willing to take some hits along the way.
But critics are quick to point out the dangers. Medical professionals and neuroscientists have voiced deep concerns about the risk of concussions and long-term brain injury. Dr. Bennet Omalu, the neuropathologist who discovered CTE, has been especially outspoken, calling it “primitive” and demanding it be taken off television.
“It is […] very stupid and unsafe,” Omalu warned.
Even among elite fighters, there’s discomfort. UFC bantamweight Sean O’Malley admitted he can’t watch the show because of the clear signs of brain trauma. Lou DiBella, a longtime boxing promoter, called slap fighting “literally organized brain damage.”
The broader sports community seems split. On one hand, the sport has rules, regulations, weight classes and even judging criteria. On the other hand, it thrives on shock value — viral knockouts, slow-motion replays of skin ripples and jaw-dropping collapses. The Guardian described it as “blood-soaked snackables that act as tributes to both the thrill of violence and the majesty of the mandible.”
So, is it sport or spectacle? For now, it’s both. “Power Slap” occupies a strange space between regulated competition and entertainment product — a reflection of our time, where attention is currency and pain can be monetized.
