Wednesday, November 28, 2007

You Fight Like a Girl

It’s amazing how children are over-protected these days. They have to wear helmets when they ride their bikes, competitive games in gym class are discouraged. Parent’s think they’ve protected the kids from porn with computer programs and V-Chips, but trust me, they are like little Einstein’s when it comes to getting around things like that.

When I was a kid I learned not to ride my bike at breakneck speed, around a corner with gravel in the middle of it, because I slid twenty feet on my face and side through that gravel. I also learned about dodge ball and justice from Mr. K our gym teacher. One kid pulled another boys shorts down as he was throwing the dodge ball. Mr. K made him play the rest of the game in his jock strap, and made him stay in the middle no matter how many times we hit him. By the time we were done his ass cheeks were crimson. As far as porn for kids in the 1950’s, we had Paul, a neighbor kid down the street. He apparently knew all of his dad’s hiding places. I’ll never get over the deck of porno playing cards, especially the joker.

You can’t protect your kids from outside influences if they don’t want you to. The biggest event in Tinley Park when I was a kid was the ‘Labor Day Fall Festival’, or the ‘carnival’ as we called it. It included carnival rides, a parade and fireworks. One year they also had ‘ladies wrestling’. My best friend at the time, Arthur, and his dad made plans to go see the lady wrestlers, and they invited me to go along. At first my mom said no, but I worked on her for hours, telling her all kinds of reasons she should let me go. I then tried my dad, and for some reason he thought it was a fine idea for me to go see ‘lady wrestlers’. So it was that my mom was over-ruled.

We pushed our way up front to the side of the ring which was set up in the middle of the carnival midway. In the ring were two of the meanest and hardest women I had ever seen, and would never see again until I met drag queens. The bell rang, and I stood there totally mesmerized at the scene unfolding before me. I was totally impressed with how the one woman, after being almost beaten, came back and kicked the ass of the other. The fight did include hair pulling, which I considered totally fair and in hindsight should have realized doesn’t work in a real fight.

You see, I was so impressed, I figured I could do exactly what that woman did in a fight and beat anyone. To test my theory a few days later, I challenged a kid in my class to a fight. The kid I challenged, I thought, would be an easy mark. He always seemed sort of meek and quiet, also he had red hair, which for some reason I associated with wimps. At the appointed time, at a location halfway between school and my house, we met to fight. There was a pretty good crowd of kids anticipating a good fight. They didn’t get one. I didn’t even get one punch in, because as I was going for his hair to pull it like I saw at the ladies wrestling match, he punched me in the face. I fell straight to the ground and he jumped on me and proceeded to beat the living crap out of me.

So what was the lesson I learned from this? Don’t fight like a girl.....No. Pulling hair is not a good strategy.....No. Professional wrestling is fake..... No.

No, I learned that getting your ass kicked is really humiliating, and that you really shouldn’t ever pick a fight. Let them pick it.....then run.


  1. I'm pleased to know you have learned from your fighting experience. I was a bit worried that you may have been a bully as I read this. I guess you were just a "wanna-be". I'm a bit glad that the kid kicked your ass. I felt as if I were the meek kid in your story.

    Meek, quiet, redheaded kids should can surprise you as you found out.

  2. God this reminded me of that scene in the movie, Christmas Story, where Ralphie beat the living crap outta Scot Farkus...who by the way was a redhead.

  3. I think as adults we forget what little assholes we were and think that we must have been the cutest little darlings. Later on, in junior high school, I did learn the art of making friends with the class bully. Just like Scot Farkus' little toadie.