Ya see, my harvester buddies taught me that if you got in a fight and it lasted more than 30 seconds then you were in a long fight. The rules were "There were NO RULES." Now, I was in a totally different environment with the same goal in mind but I had to learn to play by the rules that some guy named Marcus of Queensbury made up. So, here I was...learning a new trade and if you haven't picked up on it yet, I was and always will be addicted to learning. So, true to character, I threw myself into it, body and soul. I must have been a quick study because in short order I was in the ring facing strangers that wanted to beat me - as bad as I wanted to beat them. I started out winning and I continued to win. I was developing a reputation and getting recognition from my shipmates. Pretty soon my reputation was spreading to the battle fleet as a possible new light weight contender. As my reputation grew, so did my cockiness. It didn't feel like it was that long, before I found myself in the battle fleet finals.
On fight night I didn't give too much thought to my opponent. I had already whooped everybody he had fought and a few he hadn't. When I got a look at him I kinda chuckled because he reminded me of Alice the Goon in the old Popeye cartoon strip. He was tall and thin, damn near anorexic. He had long arms that looked like they would drag the floor and fists that looked like hams.
I had brought my girlfriend with me that night and was strutting around like the king rooster in the chicken coop. I remember leaning over the ropes and I told her it would only take a few minutes to get this over with. Then I settled down and was ready to take care of business. When the bell rang, I danced out to the center of the ring...That's about all I can tell you because that's about all I remember except maybe wondering who would turn the lights out at the beginning of the fight. When I came to, below deck, I was told he used his fist like a sledgehammer driving railroad spikes except the spike was the top of my head.
The next day, I told the athletic officer that a man could get hurt in this line of work. Thus, ended my career as a boxer. I was never one to dawdle when it came time to move on. My life's lesson here was simple: Cocky is bad. Confidence is good. A good person knows their limitations. They know their strengths and weaknesses. They use their strengths to help the weakness while they work on the weakness. A fool thinks he can do anything. A cocky person is a fool...and I vowed never to be foolish again.
A sidebar to this story happened in just the past few years. My number 2 son (John) was a girls softball coach. His girls won the game rather dramatically. Actually it was a slaughter. After the game, I listened to him talk to his girls. He was humbling them by giving them "his" confidence is good but cocky is bad lecture. I remember getting tickled listening to him talk and thinking : Damn, the boy did listen to me...well, at least once...anyways.
THE ENGINE ROOM
UNCLE SAM
THE HOBO YEARS PART 1
THE HOBO YEARS PART 2
THE BEGINNING
THE EARLY YEARS
HOMEPAGE...so you can sign the "GuestBook"
� 1997 [email protected]