How I Beat Up Women and Won the Game

Being a black belt in the martial arts, I have had my experience in fighting. I received my degree a few years ago, but I still know enough to take someone down and leave them there. Being in karate as long as I did, I sparred with people a number of times. But each fight was heavily regulated and we always wore pads, so it never really felt like real fighting. We were, of course, never supposed to start a fight and most of us didn't, we had more respect for it than that. I had heard of stories of black belts getting into real fights and had to fight their way out as an act of self defense. These people were gods in the karate universe, capable of showing the world the sort of power a black belt wielded and how little of it they ever abused.

I'm not sure if you've ever been in a fight that was unprovoked, but to me, it feels totally uncivilzed and for the first few moments that it starts, you lose grip on reality. When you maintain that grip again, you realize you must either panic or take control. My first ever fight happened in the 2009 N

FL football game in Denver Colorado when the Pittsbu

rg Steelers (my team), faced the Denver Broncos (my sisters team). Before I get there though, let me back up.

As a birthday present, our parents gave us a trip to Denver to

watch the big game. We had neither seen a pro game in real life nor been on a vacation in a while, so the trip was warmly welcomed. There we are, sitting on the 30 yard line, 2nd row seats watching the game, my sister and I blaring out our team's encouragement. Avid a Steeler's fan that I am, I w

as waving my

"Terrible Towel," a yellow towel that is the staple of a Steeler's fan and a necessity for any real member of the fan base. Needless to say, I was out

numbered by Bronco fans, however, there still remained a number of good Steelers fans around me who laughed about Kyle Ortin's facial hair and heckled the mascot. It was great being amongst my own.

During the second half, while I was waving my towel around, a particularly obnoxious group of Bronco fans began cursing at me, yelling obscenities that I will refrain from printing. The clan was composed of two drunk women who were clearly out of the league of their dates, Scientist Joe and Chemist Steve, whose wired-framed glasses only accented their pocket protectors. Obviously, alcohol was involved in their meeting each other, and this is no exaggeration, they literally were mega-drunk. I shrugged off thier gestures and watched the game maturely like an adult should. However, there comes a point when mature people, like the kind I try to be, come unwind.

As I was waving my towel in the air at one point, I felt someone reach out and grab hold of it. As I spun around to face my foe, I realized it was Blondie Numero Uno who was drunk enough to start a fight with ME! I began pulling my towel back, but she insisted that we tug of war. The angel on my should told me one thing: "Forget it Kyle, it's just an earthly item. Be a lover not a fighter and let her have it." The demon on my other should told me; "WHAT!? That is a special edition Super Bowel 40 Terrible Towel! Swing away, Ali!" I listened to the demon.

So there we are, playing a not-so-fun game of tug of war with my precious towel. Her friend, Bright Brains Brenda, jumps to her aid, hissing in my face. I look back down as these women, now resembling demonic creatures, dragged me up the bleacher, over seats and other people mind you! And my fellow fans, dedicated and true as they are, LOOKED THE OTHER WAY AND LET ME TAKE ONE FOR THE TEAM! Losers. Luckily, my good friend, Peyton, grabbed me and began pulling me down. Now, the towel has been forgotten in the tug of war, and I have replaced it as the central piece being tugged at. I'm being jolted up and down the bleachers by these two dingwads and my friend like 19th century laundry on a washing board. Everyone around me ignores the fact that I am being torn to shreds here, but I didn't care- I wanted my bloody towel, and I finally pulled it away from the dogpile and back into my safe hands.

We exchanged a few words during the aftermath, some of them not so pretty, sat down, watched the game, and heckled back and forth during the end. Needless to say, the Steelers won the game... take that dumb ladies! However, being a black belt, I wish my first confrontation with an actual fight would have been more of like, oh, I dunno, Bruce Lee and less Three Stooges with booze. At any rate, I won and the towel is safely back home, ready for the next game. I realized something during those intense moments of being molested by two lunatic women, taunted by creepy scientist cradle-robbing men, ignored by my fellow fans, and aided by my brother- I am an AMERICAN! We don't get in kung fu crappin fights! We throw down fistacuffs in stadiums next to the ESPN booth! Dangit, that is what football is all about- beatdowns! Then again, I think the aim is to not become the football like I became, but at any rate, it's still red, white, and blue, ain't it? So here is to God fearin', freedom lovin, football crazed, crazy America! God bless the USA, God bless the 2nd Amendment, Texas, the NRA, cheesburgers, and GOD BLESS MONDAY NIGHT FOOTBALL!

KB