My Education

 

 

My Education

by Gym Dude

 

My name if Matt, and I’ve been in the Army now for about four months. Basic training was a breeze, but it did give me time to get accustomed to how the Army does things. My company is now in our fourth week of advanced training at Ft. Benning, GA and I love it. I just thank God that I was in shape before I started, there’s a lot of these guys who are really dragging ass by the end of the day.

A lot of credit has to go to my dad and his insistence that I get an early start. I know everyone tells you that you shouldn’t start weight training until you’re 16 or so, but dad was into heavy training and had some success as a middleweight bodybuilder. He still looked great and as a kid, I wanted to do whatever he did. Dad gave in and let me train with him from the time I was 12.

He was really careful with my program and kept the weights low but I progressed a lot faster than he expected. It didn’t take long before I was a force to be reckoned with at our grade school. As a sixth grader there wasn’t a guy in the eighth grade who could touch me for speed and strength.

Dad had started training late in his sophomore year of high school in order to make the varsity football team, which he did. He also learned that having a well-built body in high school is a definite plus in the female companionship department, it also makes you a target for older and bigger guys who become jealous of the attention you attract. A muscular physique is great but it also helps if you’ve got a good share of size to go with it. At 5’9” and 186 pounds, dad didn’t. That prompted him early on to learn boxing, something that he was kind enough to pass along to me, even before I started weight lifting.

I got much of my height early and my weight training helped add plenty of solid beef so in grade school I didn’t have the kind of challenges my dad had to deal with in high school. I was big enough and strong enough that after a few episodes arm wrestling, the older kids didn’t screw with me. I always got invited to play sports with the big kids which gave me lots of opportunity to kick butt.

By the time I started high school I was taller than my dad and just about the same weight and I was still growing. We always trained together and by now he was pushing me pretty hard to see what I could take. I loved the time we had together and the way my body responded to training. I looked great and felt great. I hadn’t realized just how strong I was getting until that August when dad and I were sparring and I decked him for the first time. Shit! I think I was more stunned than he was.

This guy had always been the tower of strength in my life. When you’re kids and other guys are always saying “my dad can lick your dad”, no one ever said that to me. All the kids worshipped my dad just as much as I did and as they got older, loved to crowd around and watch him workout in our garage gym. He gave us pointers and cautions on exercises to do, then one of the guys would be brave enough to ask him to flex. Dad would pull off his shirt and knock out a few poses and all the kids just went crazy. I couldn’t believe that this was the same man who was flat on the canvas at my feet!

I apologized like crazy, hoping to avoid any retribution for my lucky punch. Dad was not the kind of guy to punish someone for doing what they were supposed to do, but I knew that some ‘education’ would be coming my way.

Dad got to his feet and shook out the cobwebs then put his mouthpiece back in. He grinned and the twinkle in his eye told me I needed to be really careful. “Lucky shot, son.” He said, “Good job. Now let’s see what else you’ve got.”

I got wheels and backed away with my guard up. Dad was firing jabs so fast it took everything I had just to block them. Dad kept cutting off the ring like a hunter closing in on his prey. School was open and I was learning just how easy he had been taking it on me in the past. Dad was good and knew his stuff. I was blocking nearly all his jabs, but didn’t bother to protect my body. Years of hard training left me confident that I could take any body work as long as I stayed out of the corner. Unfortunately for me, dad was steering me straight into the corner and it didn’t look like I was going to have a choice.

It was not looking good as my mind raced for a plan. Dad always taught me to use my brain and not just my muscles. A smart small man can take down a big man if he knows what to do, he always said.

The well-muscled educator stepped in and drilled a nice combination to the body and I could really feel it. Dad was not going to take it easy on me. I handled his powerful punches alright, but faked like it hurt me more than it did, dropped my guard and doubled over slightly. Instinctively, dad jumped at the chance with a powerful right hand, but I wasn’t nearly as hurt as he thought. I ducked under his punch and with the muscleman wide open I drilled his washboard abs with everything I had. My left fist drove home and struck pay dirt.

My devastating punch was totally unexpected. One second, he knew he was going to put me away for good and half-a-second later the wind was whooshing out of his body. Before he even had a chance to recover my right-hand smashed home to his jaw and my idol lay sprawled on his back, out cold.

I breathed a sigh of relief that my old man didn’t beat the crap out of me, I was only trying to defend myself. I wasn’t really out to nail him! Honest! Then, what had just happened began to sink in. I had just decked my muscular hero, TWICE. This was not a lucky punch, it was planned, carefully calculated to stop and drop the wall of muscle in front of me. Yes, it was out of fear and desperation, but I did it and it worked. That moment changed my young life. Dad and I sparred many times after that and on more than a few occasions it got pretty competitive. As the days went by, I was getting bigger and stronger, winning more and more often. Dad was sharing my training with bigger, stronger and younger guys.

High school was a new experience. You go from BMOC at your grade school directly to the bottom of the pecking order in high school. By now I was pushing 6 feet even and a little over 190 pounds so I didn’t get picked on like other kids my age.

Other than the fact that I absolutely loved weightlifting, football was my sport of choice and the two go together very well. I was lucky to be one of the few freshmen to ever get accepted on the varsity team and it didn’t go down very well when the coach actually named me as a first-string starter. Traditionally, most positions go to seniors because this is their last chance and for many of them it is their only ticket to college. Some of the guys were really pissed at me, mostly the big, dumb ones.

I was still doing my weight training with dad at the gym and at home, spending almost no time in the school weight room. In retrospect that wasn’t a good political decision, since it left the biggest and dumbest guys together with nothing to do but lift weights and think about how pissed they were at me. It would only be a matter of time before something was going to happen and that came one Wednesday night after practice.

Since I was the only freshman and didn’t really know anyone, I didn’t find it strange that most guys were pretty quiet around me. It also didn’t seem odd that on this day it would be even quieter. Keeping to myself, I showered, changed and headed for home. As I rounded the corner of the gym, there were four seniors waiting for me. I’d seen the stats and if they are correct the guys range from 210 to 245 pounds and from my height to 6’3”.

Del (NOBODY called him Delbert), was the man in front. Del is a solidly built second-string half-back. Last year he was first string, but that’s the position I now hold. At 6’2” and 225, Del is one big dude, but didn’t show the speed to get the job done that I did and the coach wants to win games. Delbert was not a happy man and it looked like his three friends were not too pleased either.

“How you doin’ guys!” I greeted, hoping that this meeting was going to be more cordial than it looked.

“Shut up Frosh!” Del shouted. “Freshmen don’t talk unless I tell them to.”

“God, man. Like, don’t have a cow!” I chimed back in my best Bart Simpson impression. The guys were not impressed.

“Drop and give me 50 push-ups” Del commanded. This would be no problem, but it would also leave me totally undefended and I had no reason to believe that our encounter was designed to help my workouts.

“Drop or I’ll kick your ass, Frosh!” He shouted again. “Or are you too weak to give me 50?” Del stepped forward as his buddies fanned out to each side. I kept a close eye to make sure no one got behind me.

When I made no move to comply, Del became impatient. “It looks like a man is going to have to teach the boy some manners!” Del was certainly big and strong, but not very fast. He telegraphed his big right hand so far in advance that I had to wait for it to get there. Damn, my dad would have thrown at least three punches in that period of time.

I brushed away the big lug’s punch and backed up a couple of paces. “Listen, man. You don’t want to do this. We’re on the same team. Why don’t you just let this go and move on?” I asked.

“A little boy is gonna get pounded in the dirt. That’s when I’ll be finished!” he shot back and fired the very same punch at me again. Damn, big and stupid. Not a good combination.

I brushed away his second punch and while he expected me to back up again, I stepped inside and drilled him with the same combination that I had used to KO my old man.

I’m gonna have to learn to take some power off of those punches. I just don’t have the experience to know how hard to hit a guy. A solid left folded the big man up and my right hand did its job. His buddies took one look at their busted hero laying on his back covered in his own blood and wisely decided they didn’t want any part of what I was dealing out. Unfortunately, my inexperience cost Del a broken jaw and the big shit missed half the season.

Things started to warm up right after that, and when Del came back to the team I was first to reach out and shake his hand to welcome his return. He looked really apprehensive, but I pulled him closer so only he could hear and simply said, “Either we get along from now on, or I beat the shit out of you right here and now. How do you want it?”

Del looked shocked, then mumbled “OK. It’s done.” I smiled. He didn’t. We never had another problem.

My coach is cool, but we never had much contact until he called me in his office one day. Coach had noticed that he never saw me in the weight room and wondered why. I explained that I train at the gym and at home with my dad who is an avid weightlifter and bodybuilder. “Wait a minute!” the coach exclaimed like a light had just gone on. “King. Matt King. Is your dad Wade King, amateur middleweight?” he asked.

“Yeah, that’s him. Why?” I asked.

“WHY?” Coach looked amazed, “That son-of-a-bitch beat me out of the overall title some years back.” He exclaimed.

“You’re a bodybuilder?” I asked, knowing the coach had a great build, but always kept it hidden under loose shirts. You couldn’t very well hide those arms, so I always figured he pushed the weights pretty hard. You just never know about those things and not noticing is a great way to bug a man who works his body that hard.

“Hell yes!” he shouted as he jumped up from his chair and began pulling off his sweatshirt. Coach was obviously a heavyweight, hard, tough and shredded. “Check it out!” he said as he knocked out a few poses. I gotta admit the man is built, but I wasn’t about to let him know how impressed I was. “I took the light-heavy class and he took middleweight. The little bastard was in top form that night and ended up with the overall title. I took some time off to bulk up and never got another shot at him. Well, if I can’t take it out on him, I guess I’ll have to take it out on YOU!”

Shit! That doesn’t sound too good. I must have looked worried until the coach busted out in a big belly laugh. “Don’t fret little guy, I think we’re still on a friendly basis. It’s just like him to name his kid Matt King. I guess he planned on you growing up to wrestle. One thing for sure, with a name like that, you’re going to grow up tough. Well if you’ve been training with Wade, he must have taught you something. Jump up here and show me what you got.”

It was kind of embarrassing, since I’ve never posed for anyone before. You know, I used to show off and flex for the guys in grade school but nothing like this. I got up, shed my jersey and popped out a few flexes.

“Great kid, great!” the coach exclaimed his satisfaction. “You’re off to a great start and still a freshman. I’ll bet you’re a lot bigger than your dad was at this age.”

“Damn, I’m bigger than my dad is NOW!” I fired back and we both laughed.

“Great abs, chest and shoulders, and what are those guns, 17?” he asked.

“17 and a quarter, pumped” I flexed with pride. It wasn’t a big difference, but one I worked hard for. I wasn’t going to let it slip.

“Listen dude. You’re amazing and just a freshman! Bigger than your dad already, I’m impressed. He better be watching out, there’ll soon be a new man of the house.”

“I already knocked him on his ass.” I blurted out. I didn’t mean it to sound the way it did and caught the coach by surprise.

“Dude! You knocked that mass of muscle on his ass?”

“Twice!” I smiled back, and KO’d him the second time! In the ring!” I added. The coach was stunned.

“Damn. He must be training you good.” The coach replied. “Listen. If ol’ Wade doesn’t have any objections, I’d like to start working with you on nutrition and some exercises. You’ve got great potential and with both of us working on you, I think you have a great future. What do you say?”

How could I pass up an offer like that? Two of the best built men I have ever seen are offering to work with me. This is GREAT!

I was at the age when the testosterone was kicking in and combined with the nutrition and two great bodybuilders to push me, my body just exploded! I swear I put on a good 25 pounds during football season alone! Anyone who’s ever played the game will tell you just how hard it is to put on weight during the season, but I did and it was ALL 100% solid muscle. If any other guys on the team thought about taking on the freshman, those thoughts vanished quickly.

I kept up with my training, cutting down my weight in the off season, I was still able to finish my sophomore year at 225 pounds of lean bodyweight at a height of 6’2 ½” I found I could maintain my speed and strength playing between 235 and 245, which seemed about right for my height, then cutting down to 225 or 230 for the rest of the year. That kept me in good shape for the bodybuilding contests my coaches kept lining up for me.

High school was a magical time for me. From time to time Dad and I would spar but wouldn’t really box anymore. We used to wrestle around, but by this point I’d end up getting a good grip and just crushing him into submission. I really had to push him into fighting me and quite frankly, even as strong as my old man is, he was no real competition and it ceased to be fun for both of us.

That brings me right up to my Army days. Naturally, with my size and shape there are not many guys who screw with me, not more than once anyhow. Most of the guys are pretty friendly and the natural physical competition in training stays on an athletic level, very seldom do you see lost tempers or somebody really laying into another guy.

Probably my closest friend here is a kid from Oklahoma. Mark Phillips is a strong little guy and we have a lot of the same interests. While I concentrated on football, he became a champion wrestler, but we both spent a lot of time on the weights. The kid is about my dad’s size and maybe a shade lighter, about 185. Other than that, he looks like a mini-me. Some of the guys jokingly call him my shadow.

Not many of the guys like to line up with me when we’re training in hand-to-hand combat, which I understand. I mean, no man likes to lose all the time, but Mark will always step up to the plate when no one else will. I’ve got 40 pounds and half-a-foot on this kid, but he doesn’t let that stop him. Mark is one tough little son-of-a-bitch.

One day I was in the barracks and getting bored with nothing to do. I started knocking out pushups with my hands and feet on a couple of bunks so I could get a good stretch. I must have knocked out a hundred or so, I wasn’t really keeping track, it just felt good getting a good pump. I was just thinking about heading over to the base gym and getting in a good workout when Mark flopped down on one of the bunks.

“Looking good, big dude!” Mark always made me laugh. “Getting tired?” he inquired.

“Nah” I said, “Not from this. I could knock these out all day. Not enough resistance for a good workout.” When you’re capable of benching 400 pounds, you hardly notice pushups.

“How about I help you out with that.” Mark offered and before I knew it, he had jumped across my back, sitting on my shoulders. The rest of the guys had not been paying any attention until now. “Go ahead dude. Do your stuff.” Mark joked.

They guys had never seen someone do pushups with a guy sitting on his back and it was not something that had ever occurred to me to try, but what the hell? I started cranking them out and discovered that the extra 185 pounds really helped. I knocked out 50 with no problem and everyone, including Mark, was really impressed. I could have kept going, but had made my point. Mark and I sat down on a couple of bunks and started talking about lifting and bodybuilding.

At Mark’s weight class, wrestling is highly competitive and tough. By the time you get much past 170 pounds, guys have enough weight and power to do some damage. Mark had obviously trained hard and his body was like iron but he was interested in the kind of lifting and getting the results bodybuilders get. I let him know that I lifted for football and was going after speed and power, but in the off season I trained to symmetry and size. After some urging, I pulled off my shirt and showed him some examples. At this point, all the guys gathered around and enthusiastically cheered me on. It was kind of fun.

About the time I was done Mark stepped before me and slowly looked my solid body up and down, then grinned up a me. “So, do you think with all those muscles you could stand up to a wrestler? I mean, with the name Matt King, you gotta be able to back it up!” The question caught me by complete surprise. I had played around on the mats in school and could do a great squash job on my muscle-bound dad, but I was never really attracted to the sport, in spite of my name. Now here I stood, the big muscleman being challenged by my little wrestler buddy.

I laughed at the thought, “Come on Mark. Look at me, I’ve got at least 40 pounds on you and it’s all prime grade ‘A’ beef. It wouldn’t be fair.”

“Yeah, you’re right. It wouldn’t be fair, but what if I promised to take it easy on you?” he grinned. The guys all broke up with laughter. I thought it was funny as hell too, but I also realized that the challenge was real and, in a few moments, I would be fighting my little buddy.

“OK little man. If that’s what you want. I’ve got nothing to do right now, let’s do it!” and we pulled the bunks back leaving a large open space in the middle. All the guys circled around to see the fun as Mark stepped back and pulled off his t-shirt.

I got to admit, the kid is built! He’s not big like me, but he is obviously strong and well-trained. My plan was to go easy on him, mix it up for a while, throw on some good holds and then just crush him until he gives up. Mark is about the same size as my dad and is about to meet the same fate.

Before we could lock up, Mark went for my legs. Damn, the little bastard is fast! It was clear that he was not accustomed to wrestling a man my size because I didn’t drop the way most of the guys he’s been fighting would have. After years of football, his attack felt like a quarterback trying to bring me down. I would just swat them away like the pests they were. In this case, I took the opportunity to smash a solid double-ax handle across the kid’s ample shoulders and was rewarded with an obligatory “UUUUUGH! Hey man, that’s against the rules!” Mark backed off, shaking himself loose.

“Rules? I don’t remember us discussing any rules. Remember, you’re the big wrestle dude, not me. How am I gonna know the rules? Are you quitting or what?”

“All right, big man. Have it your way. No rules. Let’s go!” and he was on me before the first echo bounced off the walls. My buddy tried a cross-body block to take me down but I just caught him in mid-air and held him helpless for a moment. “I could hurt you real bad. You know that!” I whispered forcefully in his ear, then put Mark down on his feet and gave him a little push back.

The kid was both appreciative, pissed and a little frustrated that none of his tools seemed to work on me. Mark stepped forward as though he were going to lock up with me, not real bright, I thought. At the last second, the kid swept to my side, tangled up my legs and dropped me face down to the floor. The guys were impressed and started to cheer the underdog.

No sooner had I hit the deck then Mark was on my back gripping my right arm with his legs and my left arm with both his arms. The wrestler used his bodyweight and amazing muscle control to pull my powerful guns back into a surfboard variation.

Muscle to muscle, I would easily dominate the young fighter but Mark forced my arms to fight against his entire body. This was going to be more fun than I thought.

I have to admit, getting caught was something new for me and it took a few seconds to grasp what had happened. The guys were going nuts that the little guy was attacking rather than defending, which is what most of them would have done.

Mark tightened his grip and his powerful legs began crushing my arm with incredible force. I was amazed at just how strong the little guy was! I actually began to struggle against him and was shocked that my first efforts to break his hold failed miserably!

I flexed my big guns again and began to pull them forward but ran into an unmovable obstacle. Mark tightened his grip again and I actually began to feel some discomfort as he slowly wrenched my arms back and crushed down again with his powerful legs.

The guys were cheering him on and I was starting to get embarrassed. There is no way that this could happen. I haven’t even come close to losing a fight since the third grade when I got jumped by a fifth grader. I held my own, but that is when dad got me in a boxing class.

The kid is using his amazing balance and power to control me, it’s time to get serious and stop playing around. Chest down on the cold floor with his weight on my back and my arms tied up, I struggled to maneuver myself around. My right arm is beginning to tingle, the little shit has his knees digging in just below the biceps and he’s restricted the blood flow, my arm is going to sleep! I began to flex even harder against the wrestler’s controlling grip, but the more I fought the tighter his hold became.

I relaxed slightly to recoup my strength and Mark jumped at the chance adjusting his hold on my left arm into some kind of wristlock. The kid now had both of my heavily muscled arms pulled tightly behind my back at an angle allowing him to pour on the power, while I could not. His weight across my back made it impossible for me to get enough leverage to throw him off.

As a trained bodybuilder, I was in touch with all the muscles in my body. I could stretch and flex everything, but I couldn’t move! While my big right arm began to lose feeling, Mark attacked my left arm executing a perfect hammerlock. Damn, that hurt! I’m not used to feeling pain, that is something I’m supposed to administer. The wrestler just chuckled at my plight and cranked up more pressure gaining a faint “GRUNT” from his muscular opponent and incredible cheers from the crowd around us.

The guys were amazed at the incredible sight. Before their eyes, a 185-pound wrestler was slowly and progressively wearing down the big 230-pound bodybuilder! Of all the match-ups, and no one had a bet down.

I couldn’t believe it myself. I was getting weaker by the minute and the more I struggled against him, the tighter and more painful the holds became and the faster I weakened even more.

Mark was taking me to wrestling school. He was punishing me for every attempt to escape his control. The more I fought, the more punishment I would have to take. What could I do? I had tried everything. I couldn’t throw him off. I couldn’t get up off the floor and I couldn’t break his hold. I was out of options and the pain was sinking in. I leaned my head back as far as I could and asked my teacher, “So, what am I supposed to do now?”

“Now, my big muscular friend, is when you give up and recognize your master!” Mark calmly replied.

I had to laugh, “Fat chance, little man. You’re getting no submission from ME! Not today, not any day!” but even as I spoke those brave words, a bolt ran up my spine. This little shit has me in total control. I’ve got to break this hold or we could be here forever.

I flexed and struggled but was growing too weak to fight him with my arms cranked back at this angle. My only hope was that he would tire of the hold figuring he couldn’t force me into submission with it and try something else. My right arm was all but useless at this point and sensing that, the powerful wrestler released his scissors hold and swiveled around securing a second hammerlock as he straddled my waist digging his knees into my ribs.

The little shit has incredible power in those legs. Even at this angle he is able to deliver some very impressive pain. I’m really learning to respect this kid’s skill.

With the young stud repositioned, I tried to get up again, but with his weight on my back and my arms double hammerlocked in his painful control, I remained anchored. As a reward for my efforts, Mark began to slowly pull my wrists apart. My massive guns could provide no resistance to his hold as the wrestler punished me for my attempt to escape. I was forced to gasp at the amazing pain in my arms and shoulders and the crowd could taste blood. They cheered louder as the underdog worked over the big muscleman.

I don’t know how far a man’s arms can go at that angle, but it felt like he was about to tear my arms out of the sockets. I was left with no real choice but I had never given up in a fight and didn’t want to start now. “You do know I’m going to kick your ass for this.” I told my friend. “Well, it looks to me like the master needs to teach the student some manners.” He replied.

Maintaining his torturous grip, Mark twisted his body to one side and rolled us over with his back to the floor and me in top of him. Before I knew what was happening, I watched in shock as his ankles locked in front of me. In protective reflex I leaned forward, sitting up as an unbelievable crushing force smashed into my waist.

Mark had determined it was time to put an end to his muscle-bound foe and unleashed all the power in those iron-muscled legs against my waist while he nearly doubled the already incredible force on my worked-over arms. The agonizing double hammerlock and devastating body scissors sapped any resistance I could have mounted.

“AAAAARGH” I helplessly screamed in response. I would have let my man go at this point. In fact, I never would have taken him to this point, but that was not the way Mark worked. The young wrestler cranked down on me again, and again, and again. He left me helpless and screaming at the overwhelming pain inflicted on my arms, shoulders and waist. By the time he let up on me, I would have agreed to anything. Taking me down to the floor had nullified my height and weight advantage. Mark had systematically worn down my massively powerful arm muscles and left we with no defense and no escape. It was only a matter of time until he carefully worked me into a combination of submission holds. When I was weakened and defenseless the kid opened up on me with absolutely overwhelming power. He had me beat, but I wouldn’t admit it. The wrestler just opened up and destroyed me.

“Now, big muscleman, who is master?” he confidently asked.

I was no longer aware of anyone else in the room. Mark had my undivided attention as I mumbled, “You. You are the master.”

“That’s right. I am the master and you will do my bidding from now on.” He confirmed.

I wasn’t prepared for such a harsh submission and must have hesitated too long. Mark’s powerful legs smashed home around my bruised and conquered waist eliciting another agonizing scream. “Yes, yes! I will do your bidding, Master!”

The domineering wrestler had accomplished what he set out to prove, and then some. Mark released me and let me fall flat to the floor, exhausted. The guys were so stunned there was a brief moment while the events sank in, then they erupted in cheers for their new hero.

Mark graciously accepted the crowd’s adulation, then reached down and grabbed my useless right arm and pulled me to my feet, patting me on my back.

“Are you OK buddy? I hope I didn’t hurt you too much.” He looked a little concerned.

“Yeah. I’ll be fine. Damn! You’re one vicious fighter. I would have never guessed you had a mean streak.”

“Oh, I don’t, but you didn’t give up when you were supposed to. I’m used to either pins or submissions, so I took that to mean you wanted more. You sure you’re OK???”

“I’m good.” I lied as I staggered over to my bunk while most of the guys circled around Mark to congratulate him on such an unexpected and decisive victory. A couple of the guys approached me. “Holy smoke! You’re the best built guy I’ve ever seen and he flat kicked your ass!” one guy observed.

“Yeah.” I glared back, “And would you like me to do the same for you??” I wasn’t in my most diplomatic mood.

As I sat on my bunk trying to make sense of what had just happened, Mark came over supposedly to get his shirt, and stood for a moment above me. “So, you came over here to gloat?”

“Hell no, buddy.” He looked surprised at my attitude. “I thought we were friends. Damn, I’m sorry if I messed you up, but I did let you know before we started and you seemed OK with that.”

My mind raced. What did we say before we started?

“You said it wouldn’t be fair for us to fight and I said you were right. It’s not fair for a trained wrestler to take on someone who hasn’t had that kind of training, even somebody as big and strong as you. But I have to admit it was an offer I sure didn’t want to pass up. I hope you’re not going to let the fact that I can make you scream like a stuck pig, come between us.”

OK. So, the little shit could still make me laugh.

We talked about the fight and how he set out to control and weaken me, setting me up for sure defeat. I was intrigued by the science of it all and for the first time started to appreciate wrestling.

Mark and I started working out together at the gym with me training him on bodybuilding and boxing and him teaching me wrestling. We’ve both gotten a lot better at each other’s sports and even though we each remain dominate in our specialty, we make an almost unbeatable team.

In our spare time we’ve decided to travel around and take on all comers in 2-on-2 fights. Who knows, maybe we’ll run into you someday. But let me provide a little education, it’s not the big guy with all the muscles that you need to worry about.