It seemed like some kind of off-the-wall nod to Michael Jackson and Sammy Sosa all rolled into one.

Except, Evans pulled his little act in the Octagon – in the middle of his UFC light heavyweight title fight against defending champion Forrest Griffin. He didn’t do it during some weak-ass pop concert like Jacko, or after another charming, performance-enhanced long ball a la Slammin’ Sammy.

No, Evans flashed his flair with a confident mouth-piece smile, seconds after being backed into the cage by a flurry of punches from Griffin, whom Evans went on to belt-strip with a lethal ground and pound.

That’s cajones, folks.

That’s charisma.

That’s the kind of “it” factor that magnetizes fans and makes them choose positions on one of two sides: love or hate.

Fighters such as Evans are great for mixed martial arts, adding yet another hint of spice to a sport that’s already a mouthful of fire. He’s a fresh champion with personality to accompany ability, the kind of star for which the world’s top boxing promoters would give up a testicle – maybe two.

Long in suffrage after a glorious string of showy belt-holders, boxing now has hairy, drone-like Russian champions with names that are difficult to pronounce if anyone actually cared to talk about them. They can barely beat the mush-brained Evander Holyfield, who is probably one big punch from eating Gerber products and playing checkers against non-existent foes at a senior center.

They are boring, blah, bland.

Evans, meanwhile, masterfully saunters the line between confidence and cockiness (and, as an additional slap in the face to pugilism, he does so with the ultimate boxing nickname – “Sugar”).

He’s talented, he knows it and he shows it – but he doesn’t rub it in our faces. There is an understated swagger. Commenting on his mid-fight antics against Griffin, Evans said, “When (Griffin) got off his little flurry on me, and he gave me everything he had, I was like, ‘Oh man. I've seen every trick in the book.’ And I knew that there was nothing he could do to really hurt me. I felt all his power, and I was like, ‘Man, I've got this. I’ve got this now.’ And I wanted to let him know that (he) can't hurt me. It’s going to be a long night from here on out.’”

Let’s also recall how, moments after he put Chuck Liddell on ice, Evans mimicked a heart attack that would have made Fred Sanford proud.