I sometimes entertain myself with social media videos of fights among fans in sports stadiums. I don’t intend to ever be in one of these videos, as my fighting career is over, but it seems like I should pass on this nugget of information I have learned from these videos.
The guy that sits in the higher numbered row almost always wins. When you have to look upward to punch the guy, things are not going to go well for you. The moral to the story is to always pick an opponent that is sitting lower. Seems obvious, but keeps happening, so I am trying to do my part for humanity.
My fight “career” all-time record is something like 1-4-1. Not great, considering that the “career” spanned ages 8 to 30. My record began when I scored a draw in the Plattsburg City Park in 1974 when Rob Dunn’s mother brought him up to the park to fight me in front of her. I won a drunken wrestle off against a 65-year-old in the late 90s to finish up my career. His mother was not there, in case you were wondering.
In between those two, I basically just tried to survive the losses. After my senior year in high school, I volunteered to coach a T-ball team with another friend who graduated that year. We got into a fight over the team management, I suppose, and he hit me in the nose with his forehead a week or so before he shipped off to be a Marine. My nose could attest to his qualification to represent the United States. I always felt safer knowing he was protecting us after that.
I don’t think mothers drop their kids at city parks to fight another kid anymore. Those were the days. I wonder why my mom didn’t go fight his mom. Seems like the appropriate response but I don’t recall such support.
Let’s move on from my nostalgia. Foley told me he has taken to watching harvest at my suggestion. I’m just on this earth to counsel the close to old aged male and I’m for it. Call me if you need some tips. Anyway, I took in some Platte County and Clinton County harvest watching this week. Early morning and early evening are prime time. Gotta get on some deep gravel to fully appreciate.
Also of note, you really have not lived until you meet a combine on Highway H coming out of Weston. Once navigated safely, you feel like you bought yourself a few more days on earth. There is a skill in watching harvest and staying out of the way as well. Don’t be a “harvest punk” and get in the way.
We took our T-ball seriously back in the day, I suppose. Do people still fight over the leadoff batter for five-year-olds? Probably not, but the most important thing, in my opinion, is to not put slow kids in the first three slots or the fourth batter will pass them on the bases when he hits a dinger through the infield.
I will say we did keep score back then, but I also had the team, and their respective parents, go to the wrong town for a game once, so I was probably not uber focused on my volunteer responsibilities that summer.
(Guy Speckman can be reached setting up gravel road harvest tours)
