Fighting: What Happened?

Yeah, my friends will tell you I used to get into a scrape or two back in the day. It’s nothing I’m particularly proud of, I guess it was just part of growing up back then and I’m embarrassed by it today.

Those days are long past, thank God, partly because I’m way too old to be acting like an idiot anymore and partly because, as you mature, you realize how stupid it is. It’s hard for a lot of younger guys to understand, but fighting is just a really, really dumb way to settle your differences.

And by the way, any intelligent woman won’t be impressed by it. At all.

Don’t get me wrong, I’d do anything to defend a family member or a loved one. Other than that though, I’m pretty sure I’m mature and comfortable enough with who I am now to just smile and walk away.

Why? Because I have nothing to prove to anybody. Plus, I’m not an animal, so there’s that.

Having said all that, back in my day fighting was totally different than what you see today. There were unwritten rules that almost everyone followed. Today, you can watch fights on YouTube and it’s clear that those old rules are long gone.

In the old days, if a fight broke out, everyone stood back and let the two fighters duke it out until somebody won. Nobody ever jumped in to help. Now? Not so much. It’s common for 2-3 guys to jump a single guy and just beat the hell out of him. That would have been unheard of in my day. In fact, it would have been a show of weakness and you would have been ridiculed mercilessly.

Whatever happened to two people squaring up, looking one another in the eye, nodding, and going at it mano a mano?

And what about sucker punches? If you sucker punched a guy back in the 60s, 70s or 80s you couldn’t show your face around town for months. It was dishonorable, man. It was a coward’s way to fight. Totally different today. Just go to YouTube and type “sucker punch” into the search box. You’ll find videos of guys sneaking up behind somebody, knocking them out, and hopping around screaming and flexing as if they’re a badass or something.

Dumb.

Another change involves kicking a guy when he’s down and already beaten. What’s the point of curb stomping a guy when he’s already out?

Makes zero sense to me. You’re not a badass, you’re a chickenshit fool, fool.

What the hell happened? This is a reflection of society, right?

Or am I just one of those old “get off my lawn!” guys, lamenting the way things used to be? Yeah, I probably am.

But that doesn’t mean I’m wrong.

PS – Bottom line though, any sort of fighting is just plain stupid, whatever the age. Don’t do it dummies.

Surviving The Serene Lounge

Back in the late 70’s I was living near the Ohio State campus when a pretty crazy thing happened. I remember the date exactly, because it was my birthday. December 3rd, 1977 . . .

Being my birthday and all, myself and bunch of friends were out celebrating at an establishment called The Serene Lounge, a misnamed bar if there ever was one, mainly because the place was neither serene nor a place to lounge. My only notable prior incident at The Serene Lounge was the night I threw a Hymie’s Double Sub with Extra Cheese at a guy who had the gall to start doing The Hustle on the dance floor. The dreaded disco disease was infecting all of America, but I was going to do my damndest to keep it out of our favorite High Street dive. Turns out I was fighting a losing battle, but I didn’t know that at the time.

Note: Eddie George’s Grill 27 is now located where The Serene Lounge once stood, and that makes me sad.

Anyway, on this night we were celebrating my birthday, and with that came some ironclad Ohio State rituals. One such ritual was that, if it was your birthday, everybody bought you a shot of their choice. I know, dumb. Not healthy. Don’t recommend it. I was young and stupid. Would it help if I pointed out that none of us were driving? No? OK.

So we’re well into the party and I was feeling pretty good. Good evidence of this fact is that I was looking for somebody to dance with, and I don’t dance. Ever. Well, maybe the occasional slow dance at a wedding or something, but other than that, never. I got up from our table of 20 or so people and made my way through the crowded bar to my target, a lovely young lady who’d caught my eye earlier in the evening. My goal was to ask her to dance of course, and maybe join me at our table. Hey, it was my birthday.

I must have been focused on her and only her, because in my captivated state I failed to notice she was with a rather large man. When I say large I mean LARGE, as in 6′-5″, 300 pounds large. He also happened to be an offensive tackle for The Ohio State Buckeyes who would later be drafted into the NFL. As I leaned over his shoulder to ask his date to dance he became j-u-s-t a tad agitated, and by agitated I mean enraged. By the way, I’d be happy to tell you privately what his name was, but he’s actually coaching college football now and I’d hate for him to Google his name and read this story. It might embarrass him. You’ll know why shortly.

Before I got “Hey babe, would you like to . . .” out of my mouth he rose up, turned around, and for a few seconds blocked out everything in front of me. Then he grabbed me by the collar and jerked me to within a few inches of his face. At this juncture I was 99% sure I was in for an ass-beating for the ages so I thought I’d at least go down gallantly. My plan was to reach back, swing as hard as I could, and pray somebody stepped in before he killed me.

Lucky for me, before I swung somebody did.

I didn’t know it but my friend Tom had driven up from Chillicothe to surprise me on my birthday. Tom was about 6′-3″, 240 at the time and was without question the toughest son-of-a-bitch I’d ever known. Still is, but although he’s mellowed a little now, back then everyone knew you didn’t want to make him angry. Well, I was a loyal, old friend of his, like brothers really, and when he saw me getting manhandled he became exactly that.

He was pissed.

I didn’t even know he’d entered the bar until he grabbed my fist from behind, the one that I’d cocked and was ready to fire. He swung me around and out of the way, stepped between me and the big OSU tackle, and grabbed him by the collar with both hands.

At this point it was like a movie scene. The DJ stopped playing music, everyone stopped dancing, people stared, and the bar became completely quiet.

Then Tom spoke:

“You touch him and I’ll kill you.”

And in that moment, not a single person in The Serene Lounge doubted him.

After what seemed like an eternity, the big man responded:

“W-e-e-l-l-l, I don’t want any trouble. Coach will be upset if there’s a problem.” 

Then he backed slowly away, turned and departed, lady friend at his side. In my memory she turned and gave me a wink and a “call me” sign as she left, but I’m 100% certain pretty sure that’s wishful thinking on my part.

After a few seconds of silence the place exploded in cheers. Apparently Mr. Offensive Tackle wasn’t very well-liked around campus and was a bit of a bully. On the other hand, Tom was a lot of a hero. Because of this he was sent free drinks the rest of the night, which seemed a bit unjust since it was my damn birthday.

To be fair, he more than likely saved my life or at the very least rescued me from a broken jaw and/or ruptured spleen, so there’s that.

So, were any lessons learned that night?

Sure.

First off, always wait for her boyfriend to go to the bathroom before asking a pretty girl to dance, especially if he’s built like the Hoover Dam.

Secondly, always be sure and have a best friend around who is not quite as big as the Hoover Dam, but a helluva lot meaner.

PS: Those of you who know me well have probably heard this story about a hundred times, and those who know the Tom I’m talking about are not in the least bit surprised. This is not the only instance where he was there for me, and I hope I’ve been there for him a couple times as well. We have quite a few stories, this being one of the few I can retell on a public website. Love ya brother.

The Craziest Game

Not from that night, but pretty damn close.

Back in 1991 I was in my second year coaching varsity basketball. We had a really good team and we were playing another really good team from another league. Due to what occurred that night I’ll try and leave our opponent’s name out of the story. However, if you were there that night you’ll never forget what went down . . .

Like I said, we were a very good team that year, as we had been the year prior. We were about to play a team we’d beaten the year before, but they’d improved and really, really wanted to avenge that loss.

How badly? We had no idea.

Oblivious to what was waiting for us, we prepared for the game like any other. Game day arrived and we made the bus trip over the hills, into the next county and into our opponent’s gym.

Upon walking in though, we knew something was different. Although the reserve game was just getting started, the place was packed. In those days a full gym wasn’t that surprising though.

However, the emotionally charged atmosphere that hit us as we walked inside was an eye-opener.

As the home crowd stood and booed lustily, we looked around and there were signs everywhere. Some were of the generic variety, some decidedly not.

The gym we were in was pretty small, with maybe 15-18 rows one one side and a set of bleachers on the stage. On a related note, the crowd was decidedly 95% anti-Bearcats. We had a faction of small, but mighty and boisterous, fans in one corner of that stage.

It was then, as we were walking into the gym and towards our locker rooms, that I noticed a sign. Here’s what it read:

“WELCOME TO THE NASTY PLACE”

Uh . . . oh. Where had I heard that before? And then it hit me. After we’d beaten this team the year before, one of my quotes in the paper was this:

“I was glad to get out of there with a win. That’s a nasty place to play.”

I’ll swear to the day I die I never meant that comment as an insult to our opponent’s small gym. What I meant was that it was a tough place to win because they always had hard-nosed, well-coached teams with loud, loyal crowds. That’s what I’d meant by nasty.

Really, that’s what I meant.

At this point, however? Too late for explanations. I’d insulted their gym, their team, their school, and apparently their entire community, which incidentally was there en masse that night.

We went down to our locker room, which was at the bottom of some stairs under the bleachers. As we dressed we could hear the roar of the crowd, even during the reserve game.

The place was electric.

Eventually we took the floor, of course to loud boos and taunting from the crowd.

As the game progressed, the atmosphere only became more intense. The score was close throughout, which only ratcheted up the intensity. Objects were thrown from the crowd, usually at me, which to my recollection included pennies, candy (my managers loved that), and anything else folks could get their hands on.

At one point the game was stopped and an administrator made an announcement, something along these lines:

“Listen, no matter what the other coach said about our school, please try and stop throwing things at him.”

I swear it was something like that. Probably not the best choice of words, because they only amped the crowd up more.

And man, if you’d have heard some of the things being yelled at me from behind our bench your jaw would have hit the floor.

Anyway, as we entered the last quarter we were in trouble. We trailed a very talented team whose crowd wanted a win very badly. With around 5:00 remaining, we were down by 10-points.

But then, thanks to a timeout followed by a furious full court press, we made a run. Did I mention we had three of the best little defensive guards in the league in Todd Shoemaker, Casey McFadden, and Roman Diekan? All three were 5-10 and they would get after you defensively.

Not only that, they feared nobody. Not even hundreds of angry fans giving them Holy Hell from the bleachers. Shoot, it made my guys play harder.

Bottom line, we held our opponents scoreless the last 5:00 of the game, and eventually forced overtime. It was on.

As we readied for the overtime tip, the din of the crowd was deafening. But the real fun was about to commence.

The Bearcats got the tip, and it was then we made the decision to hold the ball.

Yep, you read that right. We decided hold the ball and go for the last shot.

Hey, we had three of the best guards, defenders and ballhandlers in the Scioto Valley Conference, we were playing in a hostile (to put it mildly) environment, so why not hold it and go for the win?

And that’s exactly what we did.

Todd, Roman and Casey dribbled and passed their way through the overtime, running a weave out front as our opponents tried desperately to regain possession of the basketball.

Wasn’t happening, man. And as you can imagine, this only amped up the tension higher with the crowd, if that were possible.

We burned the clock in that spread offense until there were about 5-seconds left, when Todd Shoemaker rifled a no-look, bullet pass from the top of the key to 6′-5″ sophomore (and future 1st Team All-Ohioan) Craig Kerns under the basket. Kerns was immediately fouled on the wide-open layup, giving him two free throws with 1-second remaining in the tied game.

It was then we called a timeout, and I told Craig to make the first shot (I had no doubt he would) and miss the second, giving the other team no time to get the rebound and call their own timeout and attempt a last second prayer of a play.

As Craig was lining up for the first shot, I saw Todd walk up from beyond the 3-point line and whisper something to him. He actually had his hands cupped over his mouth as he whispered in Craig’s ear. In retrospect I should have known something was up. Alas, in the heat of the moment I did not.

So, Craig made the first to put us up 1 and missed the second as directed. An opposing player grabbed the rebound threw up a desperation shot that missed, and we’d pulled off the big comeback win under very difficult circumstances.

One of the incredible final stats was that we held a very good team, including the last quarter and overtime, to zero points over the last 9-minutes of the game.

As I started to go over to shake hands with the opposing coach, I caught something out of the corner of my eye. As I turned to look, I saw Todd and Craig running towards the opposite wall. Then I saw them rip a particularly offensive sign off the wall.

Uh-oh. So that’s what they’d been talking about.

I can’t say it was the best decision they’d ever made, but they’d also been suffering through some pretty intense verbal abuse the entire game. Did I condone it? No. Did I understand it? Yes I did.

At that point, well, all hell broke loose.

People poured onto the floor and fights seemed to be breaking out everywhere.

My assistant coaches, Daron Myers and Pete Hollon among them, were fending off people trying to get at me, and at one point formed a circle around me as we attempted to get our team to the locker room.

I remember that Craig’s father Brad, our film guy, forgo the ladder that led to his little crow’s nest where he’d been filming and basically jumped down to join the fray.

Finally, we made it downstairs to the locker room. Once there, we could hear people at the top of the steps yelling nasty things down to us. A group of our parents actually stood guard at the top of the stairs. I told my players to sit tight, that we’d have to wait this out until things calmed down. Soon after that, a local policeman came to tell us the same thing, that they were calling in some more enforcement to clear the gym.

My players didn’t even change into their street clothes. They just sat there waiting to be told what to do next.

Over an hour later the gym was eventually cleared, but a lot of people were still waiting for us in the parking lot. Soon, a plan was hatched. Our bus left the lot it was parked in and was brought around to the other side of the school. With a large group of our fans forming a tunnel, we snuck out through a side door and boarded our bus.

What happened next seems surreal even today. After we were all seated, the Sheriff of the county we were playing in got on the bus, stood at the front, and said this:

“You fellas better keep  your heads down until you get out of _______ County.”

Yep. That actually happened. I have witnesses.

On a related note, do you know how you can tell you have loyal assistant coaches? When, after hearing what the local sheriff just said, you have this discussion with one of them:

Coach Myers: “Coach, switch places with me.”

Me: “Why?“

Coach Myers: “You’d better get away from the window. They’ll be aiming for you.”

That’s loyalty, folks.

As we pulled out we were escorted, front and back, by several cars and trucks from Paint Valley. Behind our fans, in the back, followed a lot of cars that were not from Ross County. When we crossed into Ross County, those cars turned around and went back from whence they came.

You may not be surprised to learn that I got several phone calls the next day, most from angry fans threatening to beat my ass but with a few death threats thrown in for fun as well.

Good times, huh?

Our twice yearly regular season games with that opponent were cancelled for the foreseeable future, although the very next year we happened to draw them in the sectional tournament. Again, they couldn’t beat us.

Thank God it was on a neutral court.

Update: I found the article and figured I may as well include it. Most people know where the game was played anyway. Here ya go.

Note: Folks from the school and opponent in question will most certainly have a different perspective regarding what happened that night, and they are certainly welcome to chime in if they feel the need.

Great Moments in Sports: The Steve Blake Steal

Steve Blake is one of my all-time favorite point guards. I remember when I first met him at Maryland Camp I couldn’t believe this was the kid everyone had spoken so highly about. He was just a skinny kid who you’d never expect could be a great basketball player. A couple years later I took my son Kip to camp and introduced him to Steve, who proceeded to take him to the locker room and give him a grand tour of the facilities. It was just a really nice gesture that wasn’t necessary but he did it because he’s a good guy. I was also behind the Maryland bench when the famous play below took place. I watched as Steve eyed Jason Williams, just waiting for him to turn and look at Coach K again. When he did Steve made the steal, scored, and all hell broke loose in Cole Field House. Amazing memory. And oh by the way, Steve Blake ended up leading the Terrapins to a National Title in 2002 and had a distinguished NBA career as well.

PS- Check out a couple cool Steve Blake videos below this one.

PSS- Man, Maryland hated Duke.

Here’s an example of Steve Blake’s toughness when he was in the NBA.

And here he is in a pickup game after Maryland Basketball Camp back in 2002. That’s my man Jimmy Patsos leading him away at the end.

A Few Thoughts On The Michigan-Wisconsin Incident

So everyone has seen the video by now. If not you can click here and take a look, although I’ve also added it below. Here’s what happened – in the handshake line Wolverine coach Juwan Howard mouthed off to Badger Coach Greg Gard, Gard reached out to apparently try and say something and everything went to hell after that with Howard sort of punch slapping assistant coach Joe Krabbenhoft upside the head. After that everything went to hell as the players from both teams got involved. How did this happen, you ask? Here’s how I see it . . .

Wisconsin was putting the hammer on Michigan and was up 14-points with about 15-seconds to go in the game. Howard was frustrated to begin with because his team has underachieved this season, and it didn’t help that Wisconsin has the dirtiest player in college basketball on it’s roster. Michigan was pressing with its starters still in the game, and this is significant because Wisconsin had put in its reserves earlier, which I assume included at least a couple walk-ons. I can tell you from persoanl experience how frustrating it is to sub in a blowout game only to have the opposing coach keep his starters in and pressing. There used to be an unwritten rule that the team that was behind subbed first, surrendering if you will, and the coach of the team leading would then reciprocate. That said, most coaches today either don’t understand that concept or simply don’t give a damn.

So, Wisconsin was understandably having trouble getting the ball across midcourt and I’m assuming Coach Gard didn’t want them embarrassed. Because of this he called a timeout, which would reset the 10-second clock. Howard thought the timeout wasn’t necessary, that Gard may have been rubbing it in, so when they met in the handshake line you can hear him say, “I won’t forget this” or something along those lines. Gard then tried to explain himself as things quickly escalated. But on to my thoughts:

1. You don’t keep your starters in and pressing when the game is over. At worst the other coach will have to put his starters back in and your reserves will be humiliated.
2. Gard shouldn’t have called the time out. Up 14 with :45 left maybe, because a lead can vanish pretty damn quickly when starters are playing against your last five guys. 14-seconds though? Let them get a steal and hold the ball. The game is over.
3. Howard said Gard “put his hands on me” and he had to defend himself. This is laughable. First off, he wasn’t being attacked. Secondly, I don’t get the whole “hands on me” disrespect thing. Gard didn’t have a finger in Howard’s face (although Howard did that exact thing to Gard), he was simply trying to stop him and explain why he called the timeout. I saw nothing aggressive on Gard’s part until things escalalated, and even then he didn’t take a swing like Howard did.
4. I’ve heard several so-called basketball experts today call for an end to handshake lines. What? So this is how we should handle it? How about simply asking people to keep their composure? Trust me, I’ve coached games in which the last thing I wanted to do was march through a handshake like and say “good game” to some guy I didn’t like. Still, I managed to do it without taking a shot at a guy. Good Lord.

Like I mentioned earlier, Juwan Howard has been a loose cannon for awhile now. Michigan was ranked #6 in the preseason and are now 14-11, so they’re looking like an NIT team if they’re lucky. This is no excuse to have a meltdown though. In fact you should be doing the exact opposite and be trying to figure out how to turn your team around rather than blowing a gasket. Have some poise, man.

I’ve no idea how this will all turn out but I’m guessing Howard will get at least a multiple game suspension, Gard will get at least one game off and any player who through a punch will be suspended for a game or two as well. We shall see.

Great Scenes in Television: Trevor vs. Mike (Better Call Saul)

Classic.

Maine Man Saws Neighbor’s Garage In Half Amid Boundary Dispute

DOVER-FOXCROFT, Maine — A man who cut his neighbor’s garage in half with a Sawzall was on friendly terms with the man who built the structure — just not with everyone who lived on the property after he died.

Gabriel Brawn used a land surveyor’s demarcation between the two lots as a guide to remove the half of the building sitting on his land when a dispute over the boundary line boiled over. Tracy Brawn said Thursday that her husband’s actions on the day after Memorial Day marked the latest, and they hope the final, step of an often contentious relationship between her family, others in the neighborhood and various inhabitants of 148 Grove St. in recent years.

The Brawns’ relationship with their neighbors was fine until the former owner of 148 Grove St., Steve Ritter, died in late 2016, Tracy Brawn said. Ritter’s wife, Theresa Laythe-Ritter, took over sole ownership of 148 Grove St. and while she became an infrequent resident, Brawn said relations have been strained with others who have rented or otherwise frequented the building since.

The Brawns unsuccessfully tried to purchase the 148 Grove St. property in one attempt to resolve their issues.

The property-line dispute gained momentum in April when the Brawns put down a load of wood chips near the previously established boundary with 148 Grove St. in order for a tractor to travel the downhill grade to the back of their lot to clean up downed tree limbs.

Steve Ritter’s youngest son Blake soon planted a stake in the ground where the chips had been placed, Tracy Brawn said.

“He said, ‘This is our property, get your stuff off it,’ so we had to call a land surveyor,” she said.

The surveyor determined that the dividing line between the properties was in the center of the 148 Grove St. driveway — and right through the middle of the garage.

“The day the surveyor came and set the pins, the tenants that were there packed up and moved out that night,” Brawn said.

Gabriel Brawn — who works in construction — took a Sawzall and skillfully cut down the half of the garage that was on his family’s property and left the remains on the other side of the surveyor’s line.

“We’re putting up a fence. Fences make good neighbors,” Tracy Brawn said.

Great line by Tracy Brawn there. “Good fences make good neighbors.” But you know a better line? “Don’t mess with a guy when your garage is over his property line and he’s an expert with a Sawzall.” Holy cow, man. Nothing like taking matters into your own hands, Gabriel Brown. Dude just unleashed his Sawzall of Truth and Justness and went to town. Diabolical.

PS- That’s a hell of a display of carpentry too. Well done Gabriel Brown. Well done indeed.

PPS- The name Blake Ritter just screams asshat punk, amirite?

Once Again, Sparky To The Rescue!

You’ve all heard many a story about a little dog called The Spark. He’s battled coyotes, squirrels, horseflies, spiders, sweepers, the occasional hobo, and a lady in a power suit. Little dude is fearless, and he proved it again today.

Sparky and I welcomed a new addition to our family a few weeks ago, a little Maltipoo named Lilly that needed a home. Sparky has welcomed Lilly with open paws (ok, he does have to let her know who’s boss every now and then) and for the most part it’s been smooth transition. Whenever we’re around other dogs Sparky makes it clear that he’s Lilly’s protector, always staying between her and any potential danger.

Which brings me to our latest adventure . . .

Today I took Sparky and Lilly to a local state park, a place with a huge lake and plenty of room to run around. As I pulled into the parking lot near the dam I noticed a large American Black Vulture sitting there. It had its wings outstretched and it was massive. It had to have a wingspan of close to 6-feet and of course had one of those hairless heads and nasty looking hooked beak. I’d read about these creatures before and knew how mean they could be. Just recently I’d read this in the Louisville Courier-Journal:

They’ll devour slimy newborn calves, full-grown ewes and lambs alive by pecking them to death.

First the eyes, then the tongue, then every last shred of flesh. 

Yeah, so I knew I needed to keep an eye out, and especially up.

As we parked it flew away, but not before Sparky had spotted it and gave a low, gutteral growl. Not much gets past The Spark, man.

I got out of the car first, just to have a look around and scan the skies. I mean, I was pretty sure we’d scared the beast off but better safe than sorry, especially where my dogs are concerned. Plus, I figured no flesh eating bird in its right mind would swoop down with a human standing right there.

All was clear.

The pups hopped out and started doing their thing, trotting around and sniffing everything in sight. I made sure to stay close, especially to Lilly. After all, Spark is 22-pounds, experienced and a badass, but Lilly weighs probably 8-pounds and wouldn’t know danger if it stared her in the face. Spark was about 20-feet to my left, Lilly no more than 15-feet in front of me.

And then it happened.

First I thought Sparky had spotted a squirrel or rabbit and was making a mad dash for it. He was heading straight ahead so I thought he’d fly past Lilly in his hot pursuit. Then, out of the corner of my eye I saw it – the damn vulture was making a dive at Lilly.

For a brief instant I thought Sweet Lilly was a goner. What flashed through my brain was that poor little girl, who’s already been through so much, being carried off to be eaten alive by that winged monster.

Fortunately, somebody wasn’t going to let that happen, and that somebody was Sparky.

Not on my watch, you flying freak.

I promise you that behemoth was 20-feet up and diving as The Spark made his charge, growling and barking like a dog possessed. He leaped up and I swear, for just a split second, that I thought he was going to make contact. Instead, the beast made an excellent life choice – it got the hell out of there.

And as the big bird rose and flew away, Sparky gave chase, looking up and growling as he ran. I’m telling you that dog would still be giving chase had I not ordered him to come back.

Lilly? She was standing under me, shaking, and did so until Spark trotted back and they nuzzled noses together.

And as we walked back to the car, Sparky constantly scanned the skies, ever watchful.

In retrospect, Lilly tore a toenail a couple days ago. It’s being treated but she’s still limping pretty badly. I believe the Black Vulture saw that and estimated Lilly was easy prey.

What it underestimated was the furry ball of protective fury they call The Spark.

I gotchu, girl.

Panic at the Supermarket

Note: This is not intended to frighten or make light of anyone or anything. It is written in jest. Satire if you will. Chill. We must keep our senses of humor. That said, if you’re easily offended turn back now . . .

Although apprehensive, I talked myself into venturing out into the masses this morning, just a quick in-and-out at the local superstore as it opened for some essentials. Figured I’d get there early to beat the pandemic crowd. Hey, I figured what the hell? What could it hurt? As long as I avoid eye contact with humans and don’t touch anyone I should be ok. I’ll wash my hands when I get home! I mean, how bad could it get?

The answer, of course, is really really bad.

The first sign of trouble was in the parking lot. It was full. After scoring a spot, however, I approached the main entrance. The second sign of trouble was the twenty-something male that ran past me screaming, “Don’t go in there man! DON’T GO IN THERE!“

And then, I felt it before I saw it. The panic and anxiety emanating from the store was palpable, alive, actually oozing from the entrance.

As I walked hesitantly into the store, I saw a scene that could only be described as total and utter chaos. Middle-aged women snarling and snapping at each other, grown men weeping, old men in obvious catatonic states, and frightened children in various stages of shock.

It was a scene from a horror movie. Cries of anguish everywhere, people sweating, and wild-eyed shoppers attempting to grab that last 24-Pack of Mega Ultra-Strong Charmin toilet paper rolls.

Immediately sensing impending doom, or at the very least being crushed by a 300-pound Vinton Countian bent on grabbing that last Purell Advanced Hand Sanitizer, I made an executive decision. Scram. Hightail it out of there. Run for my life.

I vamoosed.

As I did, from the corner of my eye I saw a Meat Clerk stealthily crawling into the relative safety of an empty industrail sized box of Tyson 100% All-Natural Pork Butts.

In Aisle 11, women were having a 3-way tug-of-war over a can of Bruce’s Canned Yams.

Over near the pharmacy, a lady in her upper 80’s dropped a much-younger counterpart with a vicious atomic elbow.

Somewhere, a store greeter wailed in the distance.

Although it can’t be confirmed, there were reports of a woman being beaten over the head with a can of Campbell’s Chunky Grilled Chicken & Sausage Gumbo.

It was a scene these eyes shall never forget, because well, some things simply cannot be unseen. The degradation, the greed, the overindulgence, the hoarding, the . . . smell.

It was too much for me.

As I staggered out into the light of day and breathed in the fresh air, I could only count my blessings that I’d survived the mayhem that I’d witnessed.

Imprinted upon my brain is a vision of a young father I’d seen near the store exit as I was making my escape. Our eyes met, albeit ever so briefly, and they haunt me still. I believe I saw his hand reach out to me, but alas, I could not turn back, mainly because I could not touch his hand.

I wonder still if he made it out alive, or if he’s still in there with his wife and children, searching for that last case of FitCrunch Whey Protein Bars.

I guess I’ll never know.

PS- Again, none of this actually happened. I’m kidding.

To Ease Your Boredom, Here’s Every Wheel Kick Finish In UFC History

Looks like it might hurt.

Not Going Big Enough

For some reason this memory popped into my head the other day . . .

Many a year ago I began my career teaching a Reading class to junior high students. I had a 7^th grader named Max that was also on the junior high football team I coached at the time. Max was a good kid, a bit of a badass, and a helluva football player as well. Just as fearless and tough as they come but with a heart of gold.

To my surprise, during lunch one day Max walked into my class with tears in his eyes. Here’s the conversation that transpired:

Me: “What’s wrong man? You OK?”

Max: “Not really. A fifth grader was picking on my brother, who is in 3^rd grade. I told him to leave my brother alone. Anyway, he said I was too big to be picking on him and he was going to get someone bigger to beat me up. He got a sophomore.”

Me: “Ah man, I’m sorry. Are you afraid?”

Max: “No, it’s not that. He didn’t go big enough. The guy’s down in the bathroom on the floor. You need to go check on him.”

Sure enough, there sitting on the floor of the bathroom was a sophomore with a bloody nose and knots all over his head. Seems the 5th grader had indeed “not gone big enough.”

Woman Attacked By Dog, Woman’s Dog Says Not Today

Sometimes the narrator makes a video substantially better. This is one such video.

Good boy Monster. Good boy.

Battle at Kruger Part 2 Is Nature At Its Finest

You guys know how much I love these nature videos. Animals just being animals like you read about. The Battle at Kruger was amazing, and I’ll post it below. This second one features a lone Water Buffalo being attacked by a Lion, fleeing to the river for safety, getting attacked by a Croc, heading back to land only to be attacked by the whole damn pride. The Lions were being real badasses until the cavalry showed up, as you shall see. Nature, man. Never gets old.

Here’s Battle at Kruger Part 1. Wait for it.

Shark Attacks Dog, Dog’s Buddies Say Not Today Shark Boy

Check it out, man. A big ass shark goes after a good boy but didn’t count on the pup’s homeboys putting on the bum rush and beating the hell out of him. At last report that shark was in hiding, embarrassed by the ass-whipping and afraid to show his shark face among his shark friends.

PS- On a related note, dogs, man. You come at one you come at them all. Badass.

Australian Man in Underwear Thwarts Intruder With Didgeridoo and a Torch Because Australia, Man

Newshub – Dressed only in his underwear, an Australian man has heroically chased down a man who was attempting to rob his house.

Kym Ambrook was asleep in his Adelaide home on Monday, when the sound of floorboards creaking woke him up at 4am. When he went to investigate the noise, he found a home intruder. Despite being underdressed, Ambrook chased the man out of his home and yelled for his neighbours to help. ”I was out there in all me glory – I did notice I run faster naked,” he said through laughter.

Once the men had trapped the invader, Ambrook sprinted back home to grab a defense. He returned armed with a didgeridoo and a torch and held the robber until the authorities arrived. 

Nothing quite says batshit crazy like a didgeridoo and a torch, huh? That’s a fight you aren’t winning. You can come at me with an uzi, a shotgun, a machete, even a bazooka, but if you come at me with a didgeridoo and a torch I’m tucking tail and getting out of Dodge. I mean, what was Kym Ambrook going to do, beat the guy to a pulp and then set him on fire? I’m thinking that yes, yes he was. Best think twice before you try and rob Kym Ambrook. Australians, man.

PS- If you heard the name Kym Ambrook you’d never expect that bro, would you? Looks more like a Bubba Jackson or something.

PPS- If you don’t think I’m ordering a didgeridoo online today you’re out of your gourd.

Lesson of the Day: Never Bully Someone On A Subway When A Special Ops Guy Is Nearby

I swear that dude just came out of nowhere. I didn’t even see him in the video until he jumped up and choked the living bejesus out of that poor bully. Just put him to sleep like you read about, then tossed him to the floor like yesterday’s trash. You also have to love the guy who uses his bike to defend himself. That’s a heady move, man. Finally, I love the commentary from the guy filming: “Dayum. Daaaaayum. Daaaaaaaaaaayum!” Good stuff.

Great Movie Scenes: “Pale Rider”

“There’s nothin’ like a nice piece of hickory.”

Russian Slap Fighting Is A Thing, And It Is Spectacular

So yeah, Russia Slap Fighting looks fun.

Nature Video of the Day: Leopard vs. Honey Badger

Boy, bad day for the big cats, huh? First a mountain lion gets murdered by a human and now an 80-pound leopard gets its ass kicked by a 20-pound Honey Badger. That’s just embarrassing, man. Get it together, large cats. You’re better’n at.

Man Attacked By Mountain Lion So He Kills It With His Bare Hands

Exercising in the wilderness always comes with its share of risks, but one Colorado man got far more than he bargained for when a mountain lion attacked him during a trail run earlier this week. The unidentified man suffered serious injuries in the attack, but managed to escape with his life thanks to his decision to fight back.

As the Coloradoan reports, the man was running in Horsetooth Mountain Park when he was attacked from behind by what park staff identified as a mountain lion. The big cat bit the man’s face and arm but he was able to shake himself loose, at which point he strangled the lion.

The animal suffocated and died, and the man sought immediate medical attention for his injuries. Wildlife officials note that the man’s response was appropriate and a good example of how you might be able to save yourself from an animal attack under the right circumstances. “The runner did everything he could to save his life,” Mark Leslie of Colorado Parks and Wildlife said in a statement. “In the event of a lion attack, you need to do anything in your power to fight back.”

Feeling like a badass because you flipped off that 85-year old dude who cut you off in traffic today? Maybe bullied the teenage grocery bagger at Piggly Wiggly because he put your eggs in with the d-CON? Listen, I hate to tell you this bro but until you murder a mountain lion with your bare hands you’re an amateur. And hey, I’m sure glad Mark Leslie of Colorado Parks and Recreations gave us valuable information on how to defend ourselves against mountain lions – fight the hell back. You know, as opposed to lying back and letting a razor-toothed killing machine eat you alive. Solid advice right there. Bottom line, whoever the hell this guy is he now has the greatest pick-up line of all-time:

“Hey, how’d you get those scars?”

“Ah, it wasn’t much. A mountain lion attacked me and I killed it with my bare hands.”

PS- It had to be Steven Seagal out for a run, right? Had to be. Maybe Liam Neeson.

PPS- The guy who killed the mountain lion said he needs to decompress and decide if he will go public. Countdown until he makes all the TV rounds. 3 . . . 2 . . . 1 . . .

 

Chili Pepper Gets Red Hot at Lakers Game, Is Tossed

I hate myself for that title right now. Anywho, there was a brouhaha, a kerfuffle if you will, at the Rockets-Lakers game the other night, and guess who wanted a piece of Rocket Chris Paul? None other than Red Hot Chili Pepper Anthony Keidis, who went after Houston’s point guard with a flurry of profanity as he was ushered off the court. His buddy and bandmate Flea, who was sitting with him, stayed out of the fray. Keidis was tossed too, but no

t before shooting Paul an aggressive and ill-intentioned bird. Good times, man.

PS- I just posted this because I wanted to write that title.

Gettin’ Gify With It: Here Are Some Gifs To Brighten Your Friday

Gif reminded me of Jif and now I’m craving a peanut better sandwich. Damn it.

[click on the pic to scroll through the hilarity]

Helium and fire is always fun.

The definition of “close one.”

Again, that karma thing.

Easy on the gas, bro.

All in the timing, dude.

Another case of picking on the wrong dude.

Karma, always a bitch.

Calculations were j-u-s-t a smidge off.

Never bully the wrong guy.

New nickname? Puddles.

That’s he’s a bouncer, bro.

He should’ve baled earlier. Get it? Baled? Never mind.

Who Ya Got?

Careful, kids. Think it through. V-e-r-y interesting.

Man Attacked By Tiny Bear, Goes Down Without A Fight

From Florida, of course:

A man says he was letting his dog outside in Florida when a large black bear attacked him.

Andrew Meunier tells local news outlets that he let his dog out of his home about 11 p.m. Tuesday and spotted the 4-foot bear standing next to him when he stepped outside. He said he struggled to get away and managed to get back through his front door. A 911 call revealed that Meunier suffered a minor facial laceration from the bear attack. He sought treatment at a local hospital and received 41 stitches.

“I’m just happy to be alive,” Meunier said. “It could’ve been a totally different story.”

Please. A 4-foot bear is large? People in Canada, Alaska, Wyoming, Montana, and Idaho are laughing their asses off right now. Also some people in Ohio and this guy for sure. Hell, an 11-year old is 4-feet tall. Give me a break. Also Andrew Meunier, where was your dog when this happened? Did he run off like his owner? Sparky would’ve taken a 4-foot bear down in mere seconds. Just ask that coyote he tangled with a couple years ago. Floridians, man.

PS- That dude looks like Ben Roethlisberger after yesterday’s game with the Jaguars.

Macauley Culkin Pulls Out “Home Alone” Tricks To Win Wrestling Match

There’s just so much to love about this video. The midget, the Santa referee, the girl elf, Culkin with rabbit ears, the crowd chanting “Home Alone!”, and finally Culkin pulling out his old marble and bucket movie tricks to win the match. Too good, man. And hey, not to mention the fact that Macaulay Culkin took part in a wrestling match in a conference room somewhere. Just internet gold. Hell, I was waiting for Joe Pesci to enter the fray.

PS- Why Culkin didn’t scream, “Merry Christmas, ya filthy animal!” before clubbing that dude with the bucket is beyond my comprehension.

PPS- I’m 99% sure that midget pointed at Macaulay Culkin and yelled, “Come on you f**cker!” Doesn’t get much better than that.