I like fighting- but only my friends. A lot has been written about fighting and violence. I'll just speak to my own life. I played football as a boy. I loved the sport. I was never fast or particularly talented but I could hit. That was my specialty- the transference of pain. I never hated the opponent. Often they were cross town friends. But I liked to hit. I didn't know the importance then of a violent outlet for young men. Right after I hung up my pads for the last time I went to college and entered a dark time in my life, a clueless, searching time. I studied philosophy, I became a vegetarian (not very well), I had hippy thoughts. It was a dark time. I left college and that came to an end.

I discovered punk rock. I rediscovered violence. The violence of the pit and the violence of the street. Good times.

I was a commercial fisherman in Alaska with Jeff. Different boats but same fleet. One night after drinking too much in Craig or Ketchikan we got into a fight. It's the fight between Mario and Warrell in 'Hell'. And every couple years we rematch. Jeff usually wins.

But this year's bout took place at the Holmes Harbor Rod and Gun Club after a speed steel match and way too much Jack and Coke. And this year I won. Someday I'll be too old to fight and I don't like that idea.