I thought I had it all figured out and was certain that middle school would continue from where elementary had left off. Nope. I was exposed to a whole new element, "the ghetto". Now, this isn't literal, but some of the kids were wanna be gangsta's. I had never met anyone like these idiots. On the first day of school a kid asked me "where you from?". When I replied with the name of the city I lived in, he and his stupid friend laughed. I had no idea what they were on about.

Moving on, lots of stupid "punk" kids, new egos, and some dealing with a hormone rush, I fought all the time. Often enough that the school security guard gave up on breaking them up (because it would just start up again), when I fought he'd just watch and chant my name (seriously). I think a big part of it was that, as I said before, I was a little shorter than average, very "nerdy", and a little on the husky side. This made a lot of kids think I was an easy target, but after it was revealed that I wasn't, the rest must have been convinced that they could take me just because I was shorter and kinda chubby. I was deceptively strong at this point. I often worked with my dad loading/unloading material (he was a mason/general contractor, but very "hands on" in most aspects), brick, stone, boxes of tile, bags of cement/quickset, wood, rebar, dug ditches, mixed small batches of cement by hand (shovel and wheel barrow), etc. We'd also had horses for several years at this point, I was responsible for taking the bails of hay into the back after they had been unloaded at our house. 20 bails , each ~100lbs. I also road a bmx/mountain bike every day, baseball, soccer, Tae Kwon Do (mom signed me up for discipline), etc. Most fights were over dumb crap that the other kid kept pressing, but two stand out in my mind for varying reasons;

7'th grade
-I've already had to defend myself a number of times the new school, so I don't know why this kid thought he would get away with this. I was counting my lunch money, along with a bunch of change from all the weeks prior. I was going to by a bunch of snacks for myself and a few friends. While I was counting it out in my palm, some idiot smacks the money out of my hand, grabs the bills off the ground, and runs off. I went after him, but he was too fast. Fast forward to PE. I went to his locker and demanded my money. He responds with "it was just a joke", but ignores my request for my money. I'm getting real annoyed, but then he turns and sucker punches me (fat lip). I was used to the sucker punch. In fact, that's how the majority of the JrHS fights started. Not only was I short and chubby (it was just "baby fat" ), but I was as blind as a bat too (only wore glasses in class when necessary, or during baseball). They could have telegraphed their punch in the worst way, still would have connected. No, they could have literally sent a telegraph and while I was squinting to read it, punched me. Back to the fight, I caught him with a quick 1-2, then got him in a headlock and started pounding. I was so pissed (didn't get to eat lunch, he had the bills and most of the change went through the fence and into the bushes). I felt him ease up, as if he wasn't fighting back anymore, so I released the headlock, shoved him into the lockers, grabbed him by the throat, and held him there while I threw a few more. The coach broke that one up, so we went straight to the dean. You know what the dean told me in private? "I would have done the same thing".

8'th
-My friends and I would have battles every Friday. We were all taking our PE clothes home to get washed, so while waiting for the bell to ring/PE gate to be opened, we'd either twist the shirt up and whip it, or tie a sleeve in a knot, cram the shorts in, making a cotton morning star (my favorite). One of my best friends and I are going at it, playing rough as usual (no holding back). I caught him a few times, so he turned away, but came back with a punch to my nose. Not sure if it was broken, or not, but blood came instantly (didn't stop for a long time). I threw a 1-2, both landing on either side of his jaw, and he went down. I felt horrible, but when I went to try and make things right, he didn't want to here any of it. My nose bled for a long time, but I'm pretty sure his jaws was broken. No insurance, and his single mom didn't have the money to take him to the hospital for an X-ray (honestly, I don't think he ever complained about it to her, and from what I knew, she wouldn't have even noticed). The left side of his face "blew up", couldn't talk right for awhile, "ate" through a straw for at least several weeks.







Wow, I talk to much.