Fuckin' punks

Well, I finally had a chance to see what I was made of. Last night, after training in various martial arts for more than 25 years, I had to use what I've learned in various dojo to defend myself in a self-defense situation.

Around 9:15pm, while waiting to cross the street at a busy intersection near San Jose State University, three to four punks approached me. From their dress and mannerisms, I'd say they were gangbangers, all about 17-19 years old.

One asked me for a dollar.

When I told him that I didn't have a dollar to spare, he said: "But I'm hungry, so give me a dollar."

"Sorry, I can't help you."

It was then that I felt a strange sensation on my left cheek. It took me one or two seconds to realize it, but the son of a bitch sucker punched me! The delayed reaction could be explained, I think, because, well, in all honesty, compared to what I'm used to, it wasn't a hard enough hit for me to realize that it was aggressive. But once it registered, without thinking, I popped him in the jaw with a straight right.

I'm not sure if it was because I was unfocused or because he was on drugs, but my punch barely seemed to faze him for a second or two. Initially it was almost as if he was trying to think what happened to him, because I'm not so sure he even saw the punch coming. But when he recovered from his shock, he just started glaring at me.

His buddies decided to get in on the action. As far as I can remember, there were two other guys and a girl. The two other guys started taking off their jackets and closing in on me. As they started taking off their jackets, I realized they werent reaching in their pockets for anything. I gambled that this was an indication they had no weapons, so I prepared mentally for a fight with all of them.

When I first tried to assume a fighting posture, I felt no grip from my shoes. I was wearing leather-soled dress shoes, so immediately I was uncomfortable about throwing solid, grounded punches ... much less any kind of kick. So I thought quickly that if this came down to a fight, I'd probably be better off on the ground.

There was nobody present at the corner of the intersection where the altercation began. I thought that since I was outnumbered the best thing I could do is try to get across the street so that if we fought, the customers at a pizza joint and an ice cream parlor could come to my rescue if I needed it. So as the guys all approached me, I started backing up slowly to where the other people were.

One of the guys, the closest one to me, started ordering the others to encircle me.

I'm not sure if they ever got a chance to because the closest guy launched an attack immediately. He really wound up for a wild right. I saw it from a mile away and shot for both of his legs. When I got them, I picked the fucker up and lifted him high in the air then body slammed the bastard into the pavement.

I hoped the impact would stun him enough to take the fight out of him, but I wasn't that lucky. As soon as we both hit the ground, he started to struggle, and I managed to get him in a side mount. True to what I expected, I started feeling various impacts on my back side. I couldn't see it, but the other guys were punching and kicking my back. I buried my face in my grounded opponent's chest as he tried punching me from the bottom. None of their hits at that time were effectual.

I think we may have been prone for 5 or 10 seconds when I realized the guy I was wrestling with must've had some kind of grappling experience. He was doing a pretty good job of trying to get out of my pin, and at one point even managed to temporarily escape. But I saw his maneuver in time and countered so that I was able to readjust myself into an even more advantageous position: It was still a side mount, but I was a little higher up on his torso -- which means it was easier for me to hit his head. When I got a little bit of space between him and me, I lifted his head off the ground then slammed it back onto the concrete ... the whole time telling him calmly: "You're fucking with the wrong guy." I heard a strange sound when his skull hit ... it kind of sounded like "doink."

That's when I felt one of those other fuckers kick me in my jaw. That was the only hit I really felt during the whole altercation.

Anyway, the guy on the ground paid for it again. Now he was on the defensive: no longer trying to escape or punch me, but trying to keep me from hitting him by pulling my face closer to his chest. I slipped my left forearm on his neck and used his neck to push off a few inches, then laid into his jaw with a right elbow. I have vague recollections of doing it again, but the memory isn't that clear.

It was around that time that I felt someone grab me from behind saying: "That's enough! Let go! Let go!"

I didn't know if this person was his friend or a bystander, so I calmly asked as I continued to try to pound the guy under me: "Who the fuck are you? You with them? These gys jumped me. Whothe fuck are you?"

I never got a response. But whoever had me was way too strong, and he yanked me completely off the guy ... just as that guy's buddy pulled him out from under me.

The punks walked away. And the guy who grabbed me, a big black guy who just happened to be driving by, convinced me to leave them alone ... and get some ice cream with him.

Today, I'm just thankful none of these bozos had a knife or a gun. I know I'm very lucky to be alive. But as I was licking down my banana/caramel ice cream, I couldn't help but to wish my "rescuer" came 30 seconds later. I was just starting to get warmed up.