Today, for the first time, my dad watched a tape of me kickboxing. I used to be deep into mixed martial arts, I worked and trained at the gym and so I was spending six days out of the week either learning or watching, from my desk, different martial arts styles.
My dad's always been a big fight fan, boxing especially but in recent years mixed-martial arts as well. As a fight fan he knew all about boxers getting brain damage as they got older, or cauliflower ears, broken noses, etc. All the debilitations and disfigurements that come with the game. While he didn't mind me learning how to fight, he was pretty vocal with his disapproval of fighting competitively.
I've always had a healthy fear of my father -- he's small but has sharp teeth and long toenails -- so when the time came for my first competitive kickboxing match I kept it secret. Plus he knows alot and there's nothing worse than a back-seat kickboxer. "Use your left! Move your head!"
I just wanted to get one fight under my belt. I couldn't live with myself if I never stepped in the ring.
The fight was a draw.
My opponent starts strong in the first round, playing ping-pong with my head, but I dominate in the second like a fleet of big Russian women. The third round is a toss-up though he does get the last good shot in.
I figured it was time to let my dad watch the tape. I'm older and grown now, my own man, and who knows, maybe the old man might show a hint of pride at seeing his non-gay son punching the crap out of someone.
But when the fight reaches its end and I put my hands up in victory (I made it through alive!) my dad, mistaken about the outcome, yells at the screen:
"You WON?!?! No way, YOU CHEATED!! YOU HAVE CONNECTIONS AT THAT GYM."
Come to think of it, I never did invite my dad to any of my sporting events...AND NOW I REMEMBER WHY.
Labels: family, general, martial arts