"I walked onto the University of Minnesota Football Team my Freshman year. Just showed up for tryouts, and they let me play. You remember __(Famous Uof M alumni pro football player)___? Well, his Sr. year was the season I played. Before he went to the NFL, he played in NFL Europe. We visited him, and we went to a bar in Versailles. He was about 235 lbs, and in the peak of his conditioning. He started running his mouth to some French-guy. The French-guy was about 150, maybe 160 lbs. I don't really know how the fight started, but the French-guy fired a single kick into the thigh of my teammate. He went down like a sack of bricks. Long story short, he ended up having so many broken blood vessels from that single kick, that it turned into a clot. The clot calcified, and ended up taking him out for half a season. We went to France not knowing what the word Savate meant, but that scrawny French-guy taught us."
The above story was told to me by a friend of mine. It's not EXACTLY word for word, but it's damn close. What's the moral of the story?
1. Just because someone isn't carrying a weapon, doesn't mean that they don't have a hidden way of busting you up.
2. Respect all type of attacks. Just because you don't understand someone's fighting style, doesn't protect you from it.
3. Size matters, but it's not everything.
4. Every fight avoided, is a fight won.
5. Notice how the Frenchman never got his ass kicked by all the meat-heads from the USA? He ran. That's a good idea.
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