There was this kid, let’s call him “Buster,” who had bullied me for five years. Always teasing, always seemingly trying to provoke me into a fight. Always picking me last in pickup basketball or baseball games. I’m not sure what I ever did for him to pick on me, but I sure must have done something.
Anyway, I turned my other cheek every time. Why? Well, he was bigger, tougher, more experienced at fighting (since I’d had zero fights, that wasn’t hard) and I was always taught that fighting is not the answer.
But I’d had it this time. He just got to me this time. We had to put an end to it.
So, I said, “Buster, let’s do it…let’s go!” He raised his fists as if to throw a punch and I said, “Wait...we need to negotiate some rules first.” He replied, “WTF.” Although in those days, we used the words not the acronyms.
I said, “Rules. The first rule is, we’ll use boxing gloves.” He replied, “WTF?”
I said, “The second rule is that since you’re taller than me by five inches, you have to fight on your knees to equalize height and reach between us.” Now Buster was getting angry and he said, “WTF?”
Yes, I said, "If you hit me five times, you have to drop your fists while I hit you five times to even things up."
I said, “Also, I can’t do much about you being 25 pounds heavier than I am except that you will have to pull your punches so when we hit each other, the punches have equal intensity and you don’t have an advantage.” This really got to Buster and he said, “WTF? Is that all?”
I said, one more thing:
We will have five-minute opening statements.