Daily Writing

Childhood

From 1992-2002, my father was a UFC fighter. He wasn't around much for me as a kid considering how often he was on the road. April 30, 2007 my dad comes and visits my mom and I in Rapid City. My mom was always worried about the neighborhood that I grew up in. She worried that I would become a dope dealing, street fighting criminal (I grew up on the North part of Rapid). Even though my mom and dad are divorced, she asked him to take a year and train me for self defense and grappling. So that's what my dad did. He trained me everything from how to block/dodge a punch, to how to paralyze a person with a simple tweak in a grapple. As fate would have it, August 22, 2013, I was down at summer nights hanging out with friends. They all had to leave around 9:30. When they left, I called my mom to pick me up. I told her to meet me at Hardee's. I was heading down to Hardee's through Art Alley, and there were three skinny, white, pants-sagging adults to my right. One of those guys starts walking up to me talking smack, saying, "hey, what up white boy? Got any money on you?" His friends were telling him to back off, but he refused. The first thing I could think was, "does he have a weapon on him? And if he does, how can I strip it from him?" His friends must be able to read my mind because they kept telling me, "he isn't armed, don't worry." I'm not scared, I'm not frightened, I'm more concerned as to how many punches he'd throw. I then respond to him, "no. I do not have any money on me. I'm only 13 years old." He responds, "oh yeah? Easy win then."
"If that's what you think, take a swing."
"Don't try me. You ain't grow up in the streets."
At this time, I was 5'8 and only 120 pounds, but I was quick. He still did not scare me. Growing up on the North part of Rapid, there are worse things that happen on a daily basis compared to a simple confrontation. So I start pacing and circling him, trying to find any weaknesses that I could use to my advantage. Through this process I'm thinking to myself, "okay, if he swings I will try to get him down with a hook to the rib, followed up with a few body shots and an uppercut towards his mandible." He starts raising his voice, "stop circling me and fight me, p***y!"
"Give me the best you got."
He throws a straight punch towards my face. Dodged it to the right, hit him in the center of the right rib cage and he backed up. He comes back forward and throws a body shot at me. I grab his arm, lift it up, punch him underneath the armpit (there's a nerve near your pectoral but under your arm that can make your arm go numb if hit hard enough. It's kind of like the funny bone effect but worse). He backs up, shakes out his arm and starts coming towards me again. He tries to tackle me, but he walked right into a hip toss. As soon as he hit the ground, I flipped him over and put him in a camel's clutch (submission move that effects every part of the spine). His friends are just looking on in shock as to how this 13 year old kid has yet to be touched by some punk who has an ego the size of the Himalayas. It wasn't till an officer that was patrolling downtown came in to break us up. He knew instantly that there was no way a 13 year old kid would try to pick a fight with an adult that looks like a punk. Immediately he understood my situation and he put the dude in cuffs and his two friends left. I haven't told my mom about it nor did the policeman want me to tell my mom about it because it was an act of self defense and she could change her view of me over what my father taught me.