My Journal 116

I have mentioned to most of you that I frequent a FIGHT CLUB. I was recently asked what a fight club was. So I figured we needed to discuss this.

When I was living in a rat infested hotel on the south side of town, I still tried my best to keep in shape. So I ran up and down the freeway. One day on my run I noticed a lot of cars turning into this tiny road off of the feeder near my hotel. So I jog down the road. This is how I found this particular fight club.

Two types of people go there. One type goes there to bet on the fights. Every bet is cash, paid in advance, and settled immediately when winner is announced. The other type is the fighters. Guys who have a grudge, want to stay in shape, or just have a fucked up life and need to vent . . . like me.

The first few times I went I just bet. I was trying to get the “lay of the land”. But being the competitor that I am, I was dying to get into the cage and brawl. So I finally paid my money and asked for a fight. What happens next is they compare all the people who have paid and try to match people by age, height and weight to keep it semi fair. My problem was that there was no one willing to fight me the first time.

No, not because I looked like a bad ass. I had on sandals, gym shorts, and an old tank top. I seriously doubt that the look frightened anyone. The problem was my age. First, the management had never had someone my age request a fight. The average age is about 21 to 25. The management was worried that I would be hurt or something. Also, the house takes a cut of the action. They figured no one would bet on me, so they wouldn’t be able to make a buck. So the first time I paid they refunded my money.

But I went back. The second time someone was so anxious to fight that they agreed to fight me. The challenge they face is that they are young and tough kids. If they fight someone as mature as me then it is expected that they win. So if they win it’s no big deal because they were supposed to win. But if they lose it is total humiliation. So it is a big risk for one of these young guys to accept a fight with me. But this kid did.

He was a 6’6” 290 pound, 23 year old Hispanic boxer. He was in decent shape, but I did notice needle marks so he may have had a slight problem. For those who don’t know me, I am 6’1” and about 200 pounds. So he towered over me. The management again was concerned, not so much about my health or sanity, but more about the bets.

I knocked they guy out in 30 seconds.

The second time I went I was a commodity. Everyone wanted to fight me, and the betting was raucous. The big guys wanted to fight me as well as the small “scrappers”. Each wanted to try and find my weakness. I sort of felt like a celebrity. My next two fights were both first round knockouts as well. By the way, you fight three - three minute rounds and ANYTHING goes. You are locked in a cage with no gloves or shoes. There is a referee, but for most of my fights he was drunk. You fight until one can’t get up or taps out. Simple, right?

When I was a child I was constantly having aggression problems. I was tested and found that there is some chemical that is released when a male is in a stressful situation. Both my brother and I had an “over-abundance” of this chemical on a regular basis. So we were constantly in an adrenalin induced frenzy. When we did become stressed, more of this chemical was released into our system causing us to become rather violent and aggressive. My folks decided that best way to handle this wasn’t drugs, but to keep us constantly active. So we boxed, wrestled, played football and ran track year round. For the most part that worked. But the both of us had a tendency to get into more trouble than most kids our age.

As an adult, when this feeling came over me I would simply pick a fight with someone. To be fair, I always picked someone much larger than myself and I did study them for a while to make sure I felt that they knew how to handle themselves. So it was never a case where I beat up some little, drunken punk.

But I have been picked up a few times and it was getting to be a problem. So being able to pay a small amount to fight, knowing you won’t be arrested, and picking up a few bucks when you win was right up my alley. Thus my interest and need for this type of stimulation.

My fourth fight was a bit more complicated, but to me it was more competition. So I really enjoyed it the most. I fought an ex-Green Beret with training in Aikido. He was a formidable opponent and I actually took a bit of a beating. But I did finally end it with a third round TKO.

Anyway, that is what I do sometimes. I can release stress, vent my anger, forget my problems, and get a decent workout at the same time. I mention this today because I am again at the point where I am frustrated. So tonight I will visit my club and see if anyone will fight. The last time I went no one would accept my money. I mean to get in the ring with a guy my age, who has knocked out everyone he has challenged, isn’t what an amateur would consider a fun evening.

Actually, sex has the same “relaxing” effect on me. But the problem I have is that when I am in this mood I am more aggressive sexually. I do prefer to “pleasure” my partner. Yet when I find sex while in my adrenalin induced funk, it’s more of just a banging session. And I do have a reputation to protect.

But I will see. If not, check the newspaper in the morning because I will find a “stress-release” somewhere.

Have a great weekend.