My Last Fight

Much like the O.P. , we moved a lot as dad was Air Force (20 yr.) and I was small for my age and had sort of a funny first name when ever introduced as a new student. After a couple moves to different schools, I developed a sense of what was going to happen and prepared for the teasing. Didn't take long before some joker wanted to test me. I remember one time as H.S. freshman and playing a practice soccer game and leading the charge with the ball for an goal kick and a kid running up behind me and kicked my heels and made me eat dirt. I jumped up and saw that kid now going the other way and quickly caught up to him and applied the same tripping maneuver, turns out he didn't like eating dirt any more than I did. After a few swings and punches, we were separated by the other players and never had trouble after that.
Of course that was many years ago circa. 1966. More recently, the outfit I've worked for the past 20 years as a const. sub contractor and now with my young son of 25 got into to a yelling/cussing with a new yard man. Son is a big kid and the new yard man just could not get along and the heated argument was as close to coming to blows as I could stand. I made to the move to get between them before any punches were thrown and actually chest bumped the yard man and to my surprise, he went down to the ground like a sack of potatoes or more commonly known as a soccer flop. Even tried to help him get up, but he rejected that and ran into the shipping office to report me for assaulting him. Luckily, I had a long excellent relationship with the owner of the company after chewing me out and hear my side of the story, then another meeting with a safety boss. The yard man lasted about another month, until he left and all is well.:cool::rolleyes::D
 
I think it started when my twin brother and I were around nine.

My father and friends thought it would be great, to have us put on the gloves and go at it for a little bit.
Naturally the tv show, Gillette Blue blades, fight night, did not help out the cause.......

We had to large chairs in the living room that we used as our "Corners" and we had a coach and manager, that gave us words of wisdom and a fan job with a towel, to cool us offif needed.

By the time we were eleven or twelve they had to throw in the towel, since we were landing some really heavy blows and drawing blood.

The training helped me through life but I never wanted a fight.........
only if it had to be.
 
If he moved to Odessa, Texas, I don't think he stopped fighting. I grew up there and had to mix it up on a regular occasion. the 50's and 60's.

It's an oil field town and the roughnecks off the rigs are tough mama jamas. The honky tonks are the social life and fights are a nightly occurrence.

I learned my lessons fairly early about fights. By the time I was 14, I had won second in the New Mexico state finals for Judo and Karate. In Odessa, I became a target for kids wanting a reputation for having beaten me. Folks I had never even met. I knew if I kept it up, I would grow into the Rough Necks territory and those guys just didn't stop when they had you down.

I knew the damage that could be done and just quit getting hot headed and brain dumb. My instructor also let it be known that one fight for any reason and I was tossed out. I think I realized I had fought for ego and lack of confidence; once I had a little self confidence, the need to fight just melted away.

Being candid, at 16, I wound up at the country's finest military school for preparation for the Naval Academy. I was a West Texas kid with a loud mouth and a temper. That place had a century of dealing with punk kids and the traditions were strong. I discovered quickly that there were men there and not just boys. I respected them and wanted to join their ranks. That meant growing up and leaving the childish stuff behind.


Prescut
 
My last fight, and how I got my screen name.



I got a call about a fight in a rural bar, and a crazy man had run everyone out of the bar and was in there alone.

Bar fights weren't usually my beat as a Highway Patrolman, but I was the only LEO available in the county right then.
Being forewarned by the patrons and bar owner about what was going on, I put on my riot helmet and grabbed a riot baton.

When I went in, he had a pool cue and we went to war. He was too drunk to be very dangerous but he weighed 295 and couldn't feel any pain.
I split his forehead open,(that really pissed him off) I broke his collar bone, and a couple of ribs, before he quit.

Iggy was a lone wolf mountain man type.
On the way to town, he said, "Damn, you're nasty with that stick!"

While he was in the hospital I was his only visitor.
When he was released from the hospital, I took him to court and to jail. He got 30 days.
I was his only visitor.

When he got out of jail, I took him back to his mountain.

When he treed the bar again, they called me.
He would be on the fight until I walked in
He would say "Aw hell, I can't fight you, you're my friend." He would grin and hold out his hands for the cuffs.
From then on when Iggy got into trouble, they would call me on or off duty and I would go get him.
Over the years we became good friends.

I told him if he got drunk and killed someone in a car wreck I would never forgive him.

One day I was called to investigate a wreck on the mountain. It was Iggy and he had run off the road and wrapped his car around a tree. He was pinned in the car. I crawled in the car with him.
He looked at me and said, "Chip, I didn't kill anyone else."

I said,"Yeh, Iggy, I know" and he died.

I was the only one at his funeral and I spread his ashes on his mountain.
People couldn't understand why I went to all the bother with someone like that.
All I could tell them was," Aw hell, Iggy was my friend."
 
As a teen, I found out I had a glass jaw. Hit me around my mouth and I was down without any idea why.
My last "fight" was in March of 1972. I tried hard on the wrestling mat but at the end of the third the ref held up the other guys hand.
 
I was the new kid in school in 3rd grade; my parents had just moved into a house in that school's district. One of the other boys was regarded as the class "tough" and not to be messed with. At any rate, he kept giving me the "evil eye" and I was sure he didn't like me and wanted to test me out one way or the other.

At any rate, he and I faced off and agreed that we would meet in the class cloak room instead of going out to recess, and that we'd settle things right there.

I'd had a couple of fights in my previous school, and had learned a few things, including the fact that speed and aggressiveness really count.

The class was buzzing about the coming fight, and when the recess started, a few classmates gathered outside the cloak room to check it out. Jimmy (I'll call him that because that was his name), came into the cloak room from its east entrance, and I came in from the west. I didn't waste any time or give him a chance - I "windmilled" him and pummeled him with so many fast punches he had no option but to turn and run out of the east door of the the room. That was witnessed by the group watching, and was the talk of the class for that week at least. Jimmy never bothered me again, and would never look me in the eye.

I guess I earned my spurs with that one, and it was my last fight, although I twice threatened to tear an arm off and use it to beat the other guy to death with the bloody stump. It seemed to work to avoid a real conflict...

That last tactic worked on a guy in high school who was bird dogging the young lady who later became my wife. He took the hint.

John
 
I have never been in a fight. Not sure why.

Might be because I was mostly bigger than everybody else. Maybe because I just didn't mess with people. Maybe it was my demeanor. Maybe it was all those private schools my parents sent me too. I'm really not sure.

The few times somebody pushed me I pushed back and they always backed off.
 
I lived in upstate N.Y. for the first 18 years of my life. Bars were the only recreation in those days. The drinking age was 18 in NY at the time and it was never enforced. A dollar bill was your ID. Being not far from the Pa. border where the drinking age was 21, all the Pa kids came over to drink. There was a crew that lived to fight and then there was the drinkers and stoners. The fighters never really fought with the drinkers/stoners and kept it to themselves. Saw my share of fights, some for as little as a quarter on the pool table. Fighting was a spectator sport as far as I was concerned. Never had to eat **** though, just staying in good with the biggest and the baddest was wise.
 
Got into really one good fight in Jr High School with a team mate over something that must have been important at the time. The winner was the coach. Also, had a employee punched me because I was going to take him to human resources for smoking weed on the job.
 
My last near fight was when I was near my apt. with my daughter, then about four.

Three young men who I can't describe here but who looked plenty scary came trotting toward us. I think they were about to demand money.

I had no gun with me, but had a Henckels brand folding German hunting knife. Basic spear blade, a saw, and a corkscrew. Sambar stag handle.I flipped it open and hid it behind my leg and got my daughter behind me.

The thugs saw me operate something; maybe they mistook the knife for a gun. They skidded to a halt and conferred, looking us over as I pretended not to notice.

Finally, they strolled past and one said, How you doin', man?

I said, fine, and they passed by.


That was thirty years ago, and we soon moved to a safer area. But it was the closest that I've come to a fight, other than checking for intruders on lonely security posts where I worked to augment my writing income.

Surprisingly, I never got in a fight as a USAF cop. Just luck, I guess.
 
Last edited:
Imissedagain said:
Bought that book in '59 when I was 12 and the Cops/Military Judo players said that the YMCA would not allow this dangerous sport/skills to be taught to kids.
They advised me to get that book that was recently published and study it.
Click to expand...

Reminds me of a book I bought in high school. I think the local public library was having one of their book sale fundraisers. I bought a book there called, I believe, Judo for Young Men. Hardcover, with lots of photos and pictures. I think the book is still at my parents' house. A few years after graduating high school I started studying jujutsu, and the instructor would sometimes teach us 3 levels of a technique: the judo version, the jujutsu version, and the street-fighting version.
 
Iggy said:
My last fight, and how I got my screen name.



I got a call about a fight in a rural bar, and a crazy man had run everyone out of the bar and was in there alone.

Bar fights weren't usually my beat as a Highway Patrolman, but I was the only LEO available in the county right then.
Being forewarned by the patrons and bar owner about what was going on, I put on my riot helmet and grabbed a riot baton.

When I went in, he had a pool cue and we went to war. He was too drunk to be very dangerous but he weighed 295 and couldn't feel any pain.
I split his forehead open,(that really pissed him off) I broke his collar bone, and a couple of ribs, before he quit.

Iggy was a lone wolf mountain man type.
On the way to town, he said, "Damn, you're nasty with that stick!"

While he was in the hospital I was his only visitor.
When he was released from the hospital, I took him to court and to jail. He got 30 days.
I was his only visitor.

When he got out of jail, I took him back to his mountain.

When he treed the bar again, they called me.
He would be on the fight until I walked in
He would say "Aw hell, I can't fight you, you're my friend." He would grin and hold out his hands for the cuffs.
From then on when Iggy got into trouble, they would call me on or off duty and I would go get him.
Over the years we became good friends.

I told him if he got drunk and killed someone in a car wreck I would never forgive him.

One day I was called to investigate a wreck on the mountain. It was Iggy and he had run off the road and wrapped his car around a tree. He was pinned in the car. I crawled in the car with him.
He looked at me and said, "Chip, I didn't kill anyone else."

I said,"Yeh, Iggy, I know" and he died.

I was the only one at his funeral and I spread his ashes on his mountain.
People couldn't understand why I went to all the bother with someone like that.
All I could tell them was," Aw hell, Iggy was my friend."
Click to expand...

We both really enjoy and love that story it is a wonderful one about friendship.

The last fight I was in was not a fight but self defense beyond punching. Back many years ago I worked 4 pm - midnight as the night shift computer operator and the area I worked was quite secluded, now there is a Lowe's and many businesses around but it was a big empty field and many dope deals were made in the parking lot, found all kinds of junk in the parking lot. I am leaving and someone snuck up and grabbed me in a choke hold with me thinking a junkie or pusher. The Spyderco Civilian was not long out so I had one that I modified for tip up carry and with zip ties to wave open it out of the pocket, it is well worn and still carried to this day. I think I slashed his arm 3 times and could feel the tip of the blade hitting the bone and cut from above the elbow all the way through and between the fingers of his left arm. I heard a lot of oh S! oh F! and off he went running with my front covered with his blood. Naturally I didn't report anything I just went on home. In high school one fight I got punched but punched straight back into the front of the person's throat repeatedly, many times and after that people left me alone.
 
Interesting topic. Per the requested subject I'll just go into details of my last fight. Actually it wasn't a fight. but just a punch. But I'd like to preface my story with a comment or two about myself.

Never was a big man. 5'5" and when I was in the service I weighed about 130 to 135 lbs. Serving with the Marines it was bound to happen. You take a bunch of guys that spend the day learning how to kill and maim and then send them out into town to get drunk; that can get interesting. I learned a few things during that time.

Never go into a fight mad. I mean not so furious you can't use your head and cover up. I learned that one the hard way. Another thing I learned is that when every one else is bigger and stronger your best hope is to go first and go hard. I always felt justified in doing that. It was no guarantee and sometimes it didn't work but sometimes it did.

So, Move the clock up about 30 years, I was 52 years old and my wife and I were fishing on a big pier on the Galveston sea wall. It's pretty high up off the water so I had one of those drop nets with a long rope on it for getting bigger fish up onto the pier. Miss Pam hooked into a nice redfish and I turned around to get the net.

It was gone.

Some people said that a guy came running up from the T head looking for a net to get his fish up and he took mine and ran back to get his fish.
I went down to the T head and it was leaning against the hand rail. I asked "Who was using this net?" A guy that was about 30 something, maybe 5'10 inches 180 lbs said, I borrowed it up on the font of the pier. I said, "No, you stole it." He wanted to argue about it. I told him when you take someones porperty with out asking and don't bring it back they call that stealing. And that my wife missed a good fish because we had no net.

I asked him if he just woke up fishing on the pier or did he plan on fishing. If you plan on fishing BRING YOUR OWN NET. THat is what I do.

He said well you don't have to be such and *** **** about it. I said. "you haven't seen the *** **** yet but it's comin'. He set his face and closed his hands and I hit him in the throat. Hard.

He was on his back holding his throat and trying to breath and talk and get up. I told him to stay down until I got my net and went back to the front of the pier.

He just looked at me but didn't say anything. I waited a moment to make sure and then got my net and went back up front. About a half hour later he and his friends were leaving and as they got close to me he was giving me the eye. I was wearing a 9" fillet knife and I laid my had casually on the handle and held his eyes. I was afraid he was going to go for it but he didn't. That was okay with me.

I haven't thrown a punch since then. I'm too old to fight now. I carry a gun. :)
 
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