Evidence 101

EVIDENCE 101...Wherever you go, there you are...







Monday, July 15, 2013

Scrappy Doo

I was nervous and somehow felt I was doing something illegal or against policy. It was the guilt of make believe or my "always stay within the lines" mentality that was drilled in my head. It was way outside the box. And I didn't know if I was going to get hurt. I didn't trust him. He didn't trust me except for the fact that he knew I couldn't do anything to him.

He insisted it be at his house. I insisted it be in a field or remote park. He also insisted no weapons, just gym clothes and bare feet.  He won the location and the rules. I had no choice or it wouldn't happen.

Perhaps I was taking a risk because at that time I was pushing myself hard physically and I wanted to be stronger. I also wanted to be able to hold my own in a nasty fight. I didn't really care that he was from the other side of the tracks. I just hoped I wasn't getting myself into a mess. I knew I could never tell anyone because they wouldn't approve going to the other side to learn how to street fight.

The day it was scheduled, he said his mother was going to be there and no one else. I hadn't met her. I was in for a surprise. She was 5-11, large, mouthy, and loud. For some reason she didn't give me any trouble, just barked at me. She wanted to make sure if her son hurt me that he wouldn't have an consequences should he "beat my ass." She told me she raised him to be better than her.

The rules were set. We were confined to the living room which had been cleared of furniture.  Their home was extremely neat and tidy with very nice furnishings. Oil field work. His mom said she was OCD and Ric also had some of that as he was exceptionally hygienic and kept his room white glove clean. It was a strange combination for street fighting as you get dirty. He was a different kind of OCD, I guessed.

He was in basketball shorts only. I was in my Underarmor workout shirt and shorts. He laughed when I told him he should wear a shirt. He told me I shouldn't wear one because he was going to wrap it around my neck. Threats. I was a girl cop and it was just weird to be wrestling and scrapping with a half naked 23 year old with a 12 pack. He didn't accept my issues as a means to put on a shirt.

The rules included no below the belt, no eye poking, no biting, and tap out if you can't take it. Ric warned me if I didn't tap out, I would regret it. He said he was serious. I just nodded my affirmation to the rules. No cop was going to tap out.

No one wanted to make the first move. He had apprehensions that I was a girl.  I just always watched my opponents and they made the first move. I'm not sure why I did that when I sparred with someone. I had never fought anyone growing up. I did pick on my brother but that was peanuts. The only REAL fights I had been in were on duty.

Ric finally made the first move, trying to sweep my legs out from underneath me with his foot. He was fast. The first contact between us was him grabbing my wrist. I knew where that was going. I twisted into him at the same time, giving him an elbow strike to the kidney. He went down hard.

I stopped. Rule Number One Fail. Don't pity your opponent. His face was red and he was hurt. I suspected he was mad. He seemed to get faster and several times tried flying arm bars, but I could get out of those. He punched me. I about peed my pants. I punched him back and I don't think I did much.

Then he succeeded in getting me on the floor and using his legs. I was no wrestler. We struggled on the floor and several times I used pressure points to try to get out of a mess. He laughed and said they had no affect on him. They didn't. All I could do was instinct and that was to fight,  kick, and claw my way out. I got out of the first take down. There were times I had his head between my legs and squeezed him to try to get him to release me. It was like a monkey fucking a football and I was no match. Just by dumb luck and perseverance did I get out of some of the holds. I got a couple knee strikes in, but all they did was slow him up for a couple seconds and make him more mad.

Several more bad spots for me were to come. Finally, he had me in a choke hold that I couldn't get out of. Nor did I tap out. I had already fought past the deadline to get my lessons, however, I didn't know it at the time. His mother was keeping track.  The choke hold was becoming a nuisance to my breathing and nothing I was ever taught in police training was helping me, but I didn't feel like giving up. Sure enough, I went nighty night.

When I came to, Ric's mother was over me and worried he had killed me. It had been many years since I had been choked out. I really didn't like the feeling much.

Ric's mom, Tina, was impressed with my scrapping ability and told Ric I was tough. He pulled me up after a bit and patted me on the back. He said I was a better fighter than some of the guys he had beat up. 

We shook hands on the lesson arrangement. Our days for the next week were set out according to my schedule as he worked late at night also. Day training was in the works for the near future. It was the first day of a very strange relationship between a gangster and a cop. Little did I know, he would be a wealth of information in more than just the training aspect.

6 comments:

Allenspark Lodge said...

I clicked the "cool" button because there is no "you dumbshit" button.

Bill

Coffeypot said...

If you had tapped out, you would have lost him forever.

Momma Fargo said...

I know, Bill, I know. LOL

Coffeypot, you are probably right. I know he and his mother talked about it later and kept bringing it up that I was either tough or stupid. LOL

ravenjanedoh said...

ARE YOU CRAZY?! Well, I'm glad you didn't tap out. I don't know what it is... I had a Krav Maga class back in Florida; I was the smallest one. For some reason the guys liked to spar .. or should I say "make themselves look big" by knocking me around. Of course I never said no - I couldn't .. I need a "you dumbshit" button as well.

We all do things. I'm glad he didn't kill you. - but man alive you crack me up!

Suzanne McCarley said...

Courage and grit or stupidity? If it were nearly anyone else (male or female) I'd say stupidity, but you seem to have a gift for judging the character of your "clients."

You have managed to completely blur the line between determination and dumbassery, as most people who do what you did would definitely be dumbasses. I would judge, but I honestly can't.

Mad Jack said...

It's the only way to actually learn. I was invited over to Main Lady's house for drinks, dinner and a little quality time one evening, and in the middle of shredding lettuce for the salad Main Lady says, "Guess what I did today?"

"Took a few pictures of - "

"No! I took THARP today."

"?"

"That's Therapeutic Handling of Aggressive Patients. THARP. Wanna see?"

"Oh, that's real nice Sweetie. Sure, let's see what they showed you. Maybe I can give you a few pointers."

"Good! Grab me by the hair. Hard! Don't be a wusser!"

So I grabbed her and got flattened. Twice. Knowing when I'm beat, I retreated to mix a martini.

"Pretty good, huh?" Main Lady sticks her chest out at me.

"Yeah, actually I'm impressed."

"Thanks! I got criticized in class because I was being too rough, but the way I see it if any of us are ever attacked the patient is going to be rougher than I am, so why act like a wuss all the time? Why not make it real?"

Right. So while Main Lady didn't get choked out, she did learn a few things and practiced them.

You'd be amazed at how many people go through training and convince themselves they know how to fight, then get their head handed to them the first time the bell rings. And the first time they get hit? Forget it. They're done.

Good for you, Momma Fargo. You have my respect.