asked on another forum whether I rate myself as a fighter or are people generally just not that good at it or is it a mix?
here is my lengthy response:
Mate, in a one on one situation in my experience most blokes dont have any kind of a plan and no fooken clue once the tiniest bit of proper pressure is put on them.
Also, yeah, I will fiddle with my own trumpet and say that starting in martial arts training at 10 and having the fortune to train with some very good martial arts instructors (TMA and combat sports) over the years will set you in good stead. Thats why I believe so fervently in training, Im living proof of what it can do.
Ive become a combat machiiiiiiine! raaaaar! Im mad me! I love a scrap...
Kidding...
Im a malcoordinated bookish academic type by nature who was considered wimpish even by my nerdy peers- I got into training and martial arts because I was insecure, frightened, bullied, lacking confidence and thought it would help me pull more girls.
A guy who trains whose got the balls to switch it on and years of repressed rage to bring to bear can be a handful even to the experienced ruffian.
Most ruffians only experience other "scrappers"- they dont have "game" when you head butt them properly, clinch them nice and tight, swing em into a few walls and drop bombs on them. They go all shocked and start bleating "fooken 'ell lad, stop stop! get this coont off me!"
Im not hard. Im still a nerd.
But my nerdism is inflicting violence instead of star trek or gaming. Over years and years of hard graft (did I mention Im not naturally athletic or competitive?) driven by insecurity, the desire for vengeance on people long since gone and my OCD personality ended up making me dangerous to the vast majority of the population .... should they choose to get feisty with me in a square go type of scenario.
And Bob Spour. I definitely got better at fighting when I met Bob. I started to get a real taste for it then.
He suggested I do the doors.
Then I was a doorman and I discovered alcohol and cocaine and steroids, a whole new subculture with its own identity, uniform, language and stylised MO. I understand why insecure kids get into gangs.
ANd actually getting proper respect from real live actual doormen who I ranked as high as ninja assasins at the time. It was a real ego buzz, the cameraderie, recognition and acceptance into a tight clique built on violence and criminality. Very sexy it was.
(Im reading Russell Brand's autobiography at the mo', he's rubbed off on me... oooer cheeky devil!)
ANd I discoverd a new fun thing about myself: I LOVE violence! In an addictive, need. the buzz sort of way
That helps. If you love doing something, you could very well find yourself getting good at it.
When you love the physical and cerebral challenge of training and coming up with solutions to combative type scenarios "what if he grabs you and pushes you into a wall?"
"... I dont know, wear this helmet and we'll see what we can come up with"
and you enjoy the buzz of a really good bit of the old ultraviolence. I loved it, really very much. A lot.
I even liked it when I didnt do fighting very well and broke my hands and got bashed and glassed and kicked but didnt die, made me feel really tough it did.... and sort of justified all those years of training in a slightly twisted logic way...as I was by then deliberately putting myself in harms way and making fights happen that didnt need to.
SO it was
nothing to do with self protection at that point, I was psychologically addicted to the whole lifestyle and culture by the end. I still miss it a tiny tiny bit.
And all the while I was convincing everyone that I was a good doorman because I knew how to be polite and knew long words. But really I was a bit of a nutjob. Not in a tough cockney east end gangster way. Perhaps in a more official personality disorder type way.
I never really needed to train. The area I grew up in was rough, but so what? It wouldnt have killed me if I never bothered.
And I never needed to do the door for money but I did. Cant remember at the time what point I was trying to prove or who to? I think I forgot along the way!
My Dad used to yell at me for being a wimp when I was a kid... its his fault... waaaaah!
Nah, seriously the fact is: I liked it.
But now I have to take the methadone of violence, teaching it, over the really good stuff, doing it.
But Im happy with that.
this is my longwinded "yes Im ok at the fighting thing but please dont think Im trying to make out Im something Im not" post... it was cathartic writing it, I may need a group hug
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