School Fights Part 1
Believe it or not, even though I first started Martial Arts when I was 8 years old, I’ve only had two ‘real’ fights at school.
You may think this is because they all knew I was winning competitions and kicking ass, so they were all to scared to give me any hassle – but in actual fact I kept it all pretty quiet. Sure, I could have been bragging about it to everyone, but if you do that eventually someone will come along and say “I’m harder than you” and proceed to tear off limbs and other appendages and beat you to death with them.
It’s always better to let the Hard Guys get on with it – deep down they know that if they get beaten by a snotty nobody then their reputation is in tatters – and if they win it’s only to be expected.
I was always very skinny, and just above average height. I was good at sports, had a bit of a brain, liked a laugh, and so generally avoided the attention of Bullies.
Until the third year of Middle School (or Year 7 for you young whipper-snappers).
The biggest, fattest kid in the school – let’s call him Chompy, because he can’t have had time for many other activities – must have been bored with his current crop of cattle, so turned his attentions onto me.
He started pushing me around, and making threats, and generally trying to make my life as miserable as he could. It worked quite well, because behind my happy-go-lucky front, I was just another scared, insecure kid.
I told a few people he was bullying me, and had the usual advice of ‘stand up to him’!
OK, I had the skills (probably), but this guy was about three times my size, and I was used to being the biggest in my weight category for competitions, so wasn’t too happy at the prospect of Chompy sitting on me. Plus the fact that Chompy had been taking Boxing lessons, and thought himself tastier than a lard sandwich.
I put up with it for a week or two – which seemed like an eternity at that age, before it finally came to a head in the middle of a classroom.
The teacher was out of the room, but the class was full, and Chompy said something to me to try and get the other scared kids to laugh at me, and I turned and walked away, across the middle of the classroom.
Suddenly I felt one of this big fuckers hooves whacking me in the back of the leg!
My expected thought of “Ow! Fetch Mummy!!!” didn’t come.
I’d had enough of that shit, so I turned back to face his huge moon-like sneering face, and as I did, brought my fist around in a right hook.
It connected hard with his temple. I’d hit a lot of heads by this time, but NONE like his. I swear my fist bounced back off his protective blubber as if I’d just hit a stack of tyres with a rubber mallet!
Time stood still, as all the air was sucked from the room by everyone watching.
I thought “Uh-oh!”.
He went a bit cross-eyed and sat on a desk behind him, going bright red like some kind of big bullying angry tomato. His whole body seemed to throb like a cartoon thumb that’s been hit with a hammer.
After what seemed like time to take at least three much-needed bowel movements, he spake thus:
“You’re dead you are, Cater!”
Thunder boomed and lightning lit the side of his face in a fun-house show of Doom (well, ok – I may have made that part up, but it may as well have).
The air came back into the room, to be replaced by lots of “Oooh”s and “Ahhh”s.
And so word spread, and everyone spent the rest of the day in eager anticipation of the David & Goliath Fight which was to happen after school…