I was 14. Man was that a mistake. The proverbial two hits. In talking to lots of guys over the years, it seems like it comes down to some kind of physical violence with your father- it's like a rite of passage. I hope it never happens with my son and me, but I'm not naive enough to rule it out. Ever happen to you?
I have never personally known anyone throughout my long life who found it necessary to partake in physical violence with their father.
I have never had a reason to challenge him to a fight. Nor do I think he'd accept. I feel sorry for the people, who A) have a reason to and/or B) have a father that would.
I'm not quite sure why you would either, lol. Even though my dad had heart problems, I was still afraid of my dad if I did anything wrong in the house much less challenging him to a fist fight. Reasonable man, but laid down the law when me/my sister would get out of line. Then again, those were the rebellious days of teenage youth. He was a damn good father.
I have when i was 12. I was bigger than my dad but that didn't matter. I did the common bull rush and he did the grab you by the collar and flip you with the foot roll throw. I landed flat on my back and just lied there. after slowing catching my breath i slowly raised my hand in the air and gave him the thumbs up.
I'm waiting to challenge him at least until he's over 70. Sure, I've got a couple of inches of height and reach on him, but I'm pretty sure he still works out. Also, he seems like a nice enough guy, so developing a reason to want to hit him is taking some time.
It was a bit of a watershed when I first beat him at arm wrestling... and that happened to be the last physical challenge we ever engaged in.
I've never challenged my father to a fight and hopefully will never ever have to. That doesn't mean we haven't had physical altercations but it was all in martial arts. My dad did Judo in college and in my early teens he was doing Karate and I had done some too. I used to spar with my dad and he used to beat me silly. My dad came out for my college graduation so I invited him out to the dojo. He said he wanted to come and watch but didn't want to work out. I packed an extra gi since I knew once he saw us starting to work out he wouldn't be able to resist. Sure enough as soon as we started working out he wanted to get on the mat. He got dressed and when he got out there I said, "Hey, dad lets do some sparring." We took our grips and I slammed him hard with a throw. He had this stunned look in his face and I just smiled.
I would never fight my son (15). I dont feel that he has to prove his manhood nor me to him. I'm there to be his father and that is it. I love this kid so much that I would never hurt him like that. We have a pretty cool relationship and he knows that. I've never challenged my father to a fight...he never was around and he died when I was a kid. My question is .....why? If the man is putting a roof over your head, food in your stomach, and clothes on your back. Well maybe if he was abusive? I dunno.
My daddy left home when I was three And he didn't leave much to ma and me Just this old guitar and an empty bottle of booze. Now, I don't blame him cause he run and hid But the meanest thing that he ever did Was before he left, he went and named me "Sue." Well, he must o' thought that is quite a joke And it got a lot of laughs from a' lots of folk, It seems I had to fight my whole life through. Some gal would giggle and I'd get red And some guy'd laugh and I'd bust his head, I tell ya, life ain't easy for a boy named "Sue." Well, I grew up quick and I grew up mean, My fist got hard and my wits got keen, I'd roam from town to town to hide my shame. But I made a vow to the moon and stars That I'd search the honky-tonks and bars And kill that man who gave me that awful name. Well, it was Gatlinburg in mid-July And I just hit town and my throat was dry, I thought I'd stop and have myself a brew. At an old saloon on a street of mud, There at a table, dealing stud, Sat the dirty, mangy dog that named me "Sue." Well, I knew that snake was my own sweet dad From a worn-out picture that my mother'd had, And I knew that scar on his cheek and his evil eye. He was big and bent and gray and old, And I looked at him and my blood ran cold And I said: "My name is 'Sue!' How do you do! Now your gonna die!!" Well, I hit him hard right between the eyes And he went down, but to my surprise, He come up with a knife and cut off a piece of my ear. But I busted a chair right across his teeth And we crashed through the wall and into the street Kicking and a' gouging in the mud and the blood and the beer. I tell ya, I've fought tougher men But I really can't remember when, He kicked like a mule and he bit like a crocodile. I heard him laugh and then I heard him cuss, He went for his gun and I pulled mine first, He stood there lookin' at me and I saw him smile. And he said: "Son, this world is rough And if a man's gonna make it, he's gotta be tough And I knew I wouldn't be there to help ya along. So I give ya that name and I said goodbye I knew you'd have to get tough or die And it's the name that helped to make you strong." He said: "Now you just fought one hell of a fight And I know you hate me, and you got the right To kill me now, and I wouldn't blame you if you do. But ya ought to thank me, before I die, For the gravel in ya guts and the spit in ya eye Cause I'm the son-of-a-b**** that named you "Sue.'" I got all choked up and I threw down my gun And I called him my pa, and he called me his son, And I came away with a different point of view. And I think about him, now and then, Every time I try and every time I win, And if I ever have a son, I think I'm gonna name him Bill or George! Anything but Sue! I still hate that name!
No, but once my mom tried to punch me in the face when I was walking away from an argument. On instinct, I blocked her by grabbing her arm, let it go, and told her that she had no right to hit me. I accidentally scratched her when I grabbed though, since I have long nails. Everyone was PISSED at me after that. They said I should have let her hit me.
I've never done anything like that. I wouldn't have dared. He'd probably still beat my ass, and he's 68. But, I can appreciate the rite of passage angle. If my son wants to fight me when he grows up (old enough, but not so old that he'd beat me), I might oblige him. I think I might fabricate a rite of passage for him -- like kill a bear with his bare hands or something -- and tell him all his forebears did it. Then, I won't need to fight.
It's hard to rationalize what a teenage boy will do. Hormones and emotions and whatnot. There isn't a lot of logic involved. Me- My parents were super strict and I was a pissed off kid. I would get grounded for months at a time. It took me a long time to get over that anger. Not saying it was an excuse, but that's what it was.
ditto...unless father in-laws count. my sister's ex once threatened my dad. one of the worst days of my life. the closest i came with my father was one time when i was mouthing off to my mom. we went through a period when i was in high school where we constantly clashed (my mother and i) and one night, my dad had enough and b**** slapped me. two backhands across the face. totally deserved. the funny thing is my dad must've felt really bad about it because he doesn't remember it happening.
I remember the first time I beat the living **** outta my old man. Thinking back he didn't deserve it and it was a bad move. Hell, I guess every fight I started with him was. He just kept yammering away, saying "Who are you? Who ARE you?" It was driving me crazy, and we both have quick tempers and I just picked up the folding chair next to his hospital bed and started whacking the **** out of him, really hitting him hard! Cut my finger and broke his nose. I knew later when he slipped back into that coma that I may have overreacted. So yeah, Jeremiah, yeah, I do know how you feel.
