Archive for the ‘Fights’ Category

Source – Liam Neeson left many of his fans disappointed after saying he’s done making thrillers. Neeson said in a new interview that he plans to stop even though it’s hard to turn down the lucrative offers he gets thanks to his box-office success in the three “Taken” films, as well as other thrillers. Neeson believes he’s simply getting too old to be an action hero.

“The thrillers, that was all a pure accident,” said Neeson. “They’re still throwing serious money at me to do that stuff. I’m like, ‘Guys I’m sixty-f–king-five.’ Audiences are eventually going to go, ‘Come on.’” Neeson still has two upcoming revenge thrillers he’s already shot, “Hard Powder,” in which he plays a snowplow driver who faces off with drug dealers, and “The Commuter,” with director Jaume Collet-Serra. But, Neeson said, those will be his last.

Well, if that’s not the worst damn news I’ve heard in years. How the hell can we live without Liam freakin’ Neeson doing action revenge films, man? In this genre Neeson makes Vin Diesel look like a 4th grade punk who gets his lunch money stolen daily. Hell, that description of his upcoming movie alone got me all worked up with anticipation. Liam Neeson as a snowplow driver who faces off with drug dealers? Sold man. Sold to the max. Nobody wants to see you playing some grandpa, Liam, so say it ain’t so man.

 

Advertisements

(Source)El Debate reported that farmer Miguel Anaya Pablo, 60, died from an infection caused by the wounds he suffered during a brawl with his pig Nicolas. Miguel returned home drunk from a party and somehow begun fighting with the pig, which he kept in his home. The animal managed to bite his testicles and severe three fingers of his right hand, and he was rushed to hospital. However, he later died due to an infection in the wounds.

Listen, I don’t know the history here. Perhaps there had been tension brewing between Miguel Anaya Pablo and Nicolas for some time and emotions finally boiled (or fried) over. Maybe Miguel came home that night and finally stepped over the line. All I know is that the minute he decided to throw down with a pig he was doomed. Pigs are diabolical, man. They have a low center of gravity and are hard to knock off their pig feet. And pigs will do whatever it takes to win, including biting off your testicles.

Note: Nothing will stop a fight quicker than the “biting off the testicles” move. Nothing.

A Toledo man, Noel E. Dawson Jr., pleaded not guilty today in Toledo Municipal Court to chasing a family member with a hatchet.

Mr. Dawson is accused of chasing a family member Sunday with a hatchet. Prosecutors allege he swung the hatchet at the man, but struck his truck instead — leaving a large dent in the hood, according to a complaint filed in Toledo Municipal Court.

When Mr. Dawson was arrested, he refused to give the officer any of his information and rather just shouted obscenities, court records show. 

OK, before I criticize Noel E. Dawson Jr. I have to know the all facts here. I mean, maybe this family member stole his Cheez Whiz sandwich or something. Hey, there are valid reasons for chasing a family member with a hatchet, ya know? Secondly, there’s nothing worse than missing a family member with a hatchet and hitting your truck, huh? That sucks. Finally, if there was ever a man that would chase a family member with a hatchet it’s the guy in that photo up there. That’s just glorious.

Listen, I’m 99% sure most of the people in this video are wasted on Dandelion Wine or something, but bottom line this bro battles the odds like a mofo and comes out on top. People grabbing boards, throwing fists, it means nothing to this badass. Better come harder than that to put this dude on the ground. Kudos, my man. Kudos. On a related note, I’m positive the guy who took that first roundhouse punch is is dead. My man was pulling ninja moves like a boss.

Gurkha soldiers.

Ever heard of the Gurkhas? No? Well, here at Shoe: Untied my crack staff is committed to educating our readers on literally everything, from sports to politics to history to asshat parkers. Hey, we’re here for y’all. Just broadening your world horizons if you will.

Here are four stories about Gurkha bravery and courage. Read on, loyal readers, and be amazed . . .

In 1815, the British Army tried to conquer Nepal. However, the Nepal’s Gurkha Warriors had something to say about that, and what they said was “No freaking way, British pansies.” They easily defeated the British. So the British officers decided that, if they couldn’t beat them, they’d get the Gurkhas to join them. A peace agreement ceased all British fighting in Nepal, and the Gurkhas agreed to be recruited into the Crown’s military. Since then, the Gurkhas have fought in several wars, including both world wars and the Falklands War. Known as some of the most skilled and fiercest warriors in the world, the Gurkhas have terrified the bejesus out of everyone around them. Want some examples of Gurkha badassness, you say? You got it, kids. What follows are some of the bravest soldiers and stories to ever come out of the Gurkha ranks.

In 2010 in Afghanistan, Sergeant Dipprasad Pun single-handedly fought off 30 Taliban soldiers. As Pun was keeping guard on the roof of a checkpoint, the attackers came at the complex from all sides with rocket-propelled grenades and AK-47s.

It took less than 60-minutes for Pun to kill them all.

He went through all of his ammo—400-rounds and 17-grenades, as well as a mine that he detonated—to defeat each attacker. A Taliban soldier climbed up to the roof, only to be clubbed over the head with a machine-gun tripod by Pun.

Bad. Ass.

In WWII, Rifleman Lachhiman Gurung was stationed in a trench with only two other men when attacked by over 200-Japanese soldiers. Gurung’s comrades were all severely wounded. As grenades flew in one after another, Gurung started throwing them back.

He was successful with the first two, but the third exploded in his right hand. His fingers were blown off and his face, body, and right arm and leg were badly wounded.

As the Japanese stormed the trench, Gurung used his left hand to wield his rifle, killing 31-soldiers and preventing the Japanese from advancing.

Gurung survived.

This makes me very happy.

cccocky

maid

No remorse, man.

*And by minor transgressions I mean insane, batshit crazy transgressions. Read on . . .

Brian and Jennifer Butler got married and all was beautiful. It was their special day. They had their cake and first dance. Then the Maid of Honor, Amanda Willis, started drinking. Here’s the awesome story of the Maid of Dishonor . . .

A maid of honor was arrested and faces numerous charges after she allegedly drank too much, got into a car and nearly hit the best man at a wedding reception in Charlotte County, Florida, television station WBBH in Fort Myers reported on Tuesday.

The ceremony was described as beautiful, but when the reception kicked off, guests said the maid of honor, Amanda Willis, got drunk, according to WBBH.

“She was a mess. She drank almost a whole entire bottle of Fireball,” said one guest, Robert Templeton.

The bride told the station Willis “was drunk” within 20-minutes.

 Willis started asking people for their keys, according to those in attendance.

“She just went up to the best man and grabbed his keys out of his pocket and jumped in his car,” said Templeton.

Willis backed out and almost hit the best man — Brian Butler’s brother, who grabbed on to the car, the station reported.

“She took off, and his feet were dragging across the ground. He had to hit the E-brake,” said Templeton.

Guests wrestled Willis out of the car.

“She went back inside. She grabbed up the big bottle of Captain Morgan and just guzzled it,” said Jennifer Butler.

Then they say she got violent.

“As soon as I turned around, she came up and cracked me upside of the face,” said Templeton.

He said he swung back before he knew what was happening, and the deputies were called.

“It was insane. Absolutely insane,” said Jena Templeton.

Deputies said Willis claimed to be having an asthma attack and started shaking as if she were having a seizure. They took her to a nearby hospital, where she exposed herself to deputies, assaulted two medics and kicked over her bed pan, according to the Charlotte County Sheriff’s Office.

“She had her be her maid of honor, and it was a bad decision,” said Robert Templeton.

While Willis was supposed to be the bride’s best friend, Jennifer Butler said the two are no longer friends.

This arrest is Willis’ ninth in Charlotte County. She faces charges of larceny, battery, grand theft of a motor vehicle, and violation of probation.

This may be the greatest wedding story in the history of wedding stories. But hey, I’m not mad at ya, Amanda Willis. Who among us has not participated in a wedding, guzzled an entire bottle of Fireball, stole the best man’s car keys, stole the best man’s car, tried to kill the best man, downed a bottle of Captain Morgan, cracked a guest upside the face, faked a seizure, exposed ourselves to the cops, assaulted two medics and kicked over our bed pan? I mean really. Cut Amanda Willis a break, man. Everyone has a bad day now and then. So she may have stolen the attention from the bride. Big deal.

And I love Robert Templeton. After much introspection, he has come to the conclusion that having Amanda Willis as a Maid of Honor was “a bad decision.” Good call, Robert. Good call. I mean, who could’ve seen it coming? It’s not like she’d been arrested 8-times before or anything.

Florida, man.

 

crowd

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.

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.

 

Classic scene from a great movie.

picture-4

Bad decision, drunk dude.

bouncer

Honestly, this is just an awful example of parenting. Dude’s just freaking out like a child. On a fight scale, this was about a 2 out of 10. Heck, when my son was 10-years old he would’ve loved to have been that close to the action. I would have been like, “Kip! Look, a fight!” This father is acting like somebody pulled out an Uzi or something. Good God bro, man up a little. You’re embarrassing your son.

Note: I know, the that one idiot pushed a woman. Not cool. Still, big overreaction.

freakout

Tough little dude.

Jack Russell Terrier Snarling --- Image by © Royalty-Free/Corbis

Jack Russell Terrier Snarling — Image by © Royalty-Free/Corbis

Informative.

fights

Yep. Next time better go with the aluminum.

art_bat2

Fearless.

catgator

That Mantis won’t quit, man.

mantis


Yeah, my friends will tell you I used to get in a scrape or two back in the day.what_happened_logo_by_summersole It was part of growing up I guess, and there were times when my friend and I would actually go out looking for trouble. It’s not something I’m proud of at all, and in fact 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, NEWSFLASH: Any intelligent girl 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 enough and comfortable enough with who I am 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. 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.

And what about sucker punches? If you sucker punched a guy back in the 60’s or 70’s 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.

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.

giphy (1)

 

Listen youngbloods, if you remember anything please remember that old man strength is real and experience should never be underestimated.

knockoutdad
————

At least for one day in 1992.

Back in the early 90’s I was coaching at Paint Valley and we had a really good team, four starters standing 6′-5″ who could all shoot from anywhere on the floor. I had seven guys who could dunk, which would be impressive for a high school team even today.

Anyway, I used to take my teams out to the University of Maryland for Gary Willliam’s Basketball Camp. It’s a long story but I used to be the Commissioner of the camps out there for Gary from 1989 to 2002.

The kids who attended Maryland Camp came from the Washington DC area, as well as Baltimore, Philly, New York City and schools all along the east coast. To say my Southern Ohio boys were out of their element was a bit of an understatement. Still, my guys hung out with the city boys, stayed in the dorms with them, and more than held their own on the basketball court. To me it was a win-win all-around. You know, expanding cultural horizons and all that. Not to mention it made my guys better playing against such good competition.

Which brings me to a story that Gary Williams, legendary former coach at Maryland, still tells to this day. Remember that it was 1992, and “trash talking” was in its early stages. Understand that trash talking hardly ever led to violence on the court, it was just a part of the game for players from the playgrounds of the inner-cities. My team, however, was not used to it. It hadn’t made its way to our neck of the woods yet.

With this in mind, my Ohio boys had been in a particularly intense contest with a team from DC, which we happened to have won. Afterwards, in a corridor outside the Cole Field House floor, words were exchanged between an opposing player and one of my guys. After the other player challenged my player with some unkind words, a punch was thrown.

Somebody got throttled, and he wasn’t from Ross County.

Gary Williams, the aforementioned Maryland coach, happened to be in the corridor and jumped between my player and the other guy who was, well, on the hallway floor. At that point, as Gary will tell you, the following conversation took place:

Coach Williams: “What are you doing, man? Why did you punch him?”

My guy: “Coach, where I come from we only talk like that for a minute. Then we start to hit.”

Gary thought that was the greatest thing he’d ever heard, and he could hardly wait to tell me about it.

And believe me, at the time no truer words had ever been spoken.

Trash talking has since become commonplace, but back in ’92? Not so much.

I sort of miss those days.

Originally published on October 24th, 2012.

The worst part of this pathetic scene, for me, is the catcher watching in stunned silence. The kid just wants to play baseball and a few assclowns are ruining it for him. This video doesn’t even make me angry. Just really sad.

brawl

Shawty to the rescue!

bravekid

Well, he tried to tell them he didn’t want to fight.

 

Listen, the last guy you want to try and bully is a guy in khakis and polo who’s unloading a U-Haul. That’s just Bullying 101 right there. I mean come on, nobody’s ever in a good mood when they’re unloading a truck anyway, amirite? Then some punk comes up and starts asking for trouble. Well, careful what you ask for, shirtless bro.

PS: Khaki Guy clearly told the thug to go, didn’t he? Poor guy shoulda listened, man. Now he’s dealing with severe head trauma. Sucks to be him.

Black-Guy-Starts-Shit-With-The-Wrong-Moving-Company-Employee

Good for you man. Good for you.

karma