00/03/25

Okay, here’s the thing.

I’m a violent man, I admit it. I’m not proud of the fact but I’m not ashamed of it either. There is an undercurrent of violence that runs just below the surface of me almost continually. I was raised in a violent family, violence was a hobby as well as an environment, always there, always at home.

I grew up in the sport of Boxing. My father was my coach, and I never learned to look at it as a healthy competition, until I had kids and didn't want to pass on the attitudes I grew up with. For me it was always kill or be killed. Even when I was a pre-teen (I started boxing at the age of 5) I entered the ring wanting to kill my opponent. It truly was “bloodlust”. Nothing would delight me more than pounding my opponent. The shockwave that ripples through your body as the fist connects is like a drug.

As I got older I realized that there were two distinct “me”s. There was one in the ring, and one in the real world. The one in the real world was just Bryant, a reasonably level-headed person given to naivete’ and bouts of idiocy. Then there was the werewolf. Unfortunately the werewolf tended to pop out all too often, and as I got older, more and more often outside the ring.

The werewolf emerged when I fought. He was the guy who would smile when he tasted blood. He was the guy who would hit the opponent's elbow to try to snap his arm. The smell of glove leather will still make me feel him. The werewolf was controlled when I was sparring in the gym, but totally out of control when I competed. I’m not kidding, I became a different being when it came time to fight. I did some very real physical damage to some of my opponents. Not all of it within the rules I'm ashamed to say, but that's done and can't be undone.

As I got older I saw the wewrewolf less. And as I worked in the FD more and more I became less and less violent. I didn’t want to hurt people anymore, I saw enough hurt people. I went through some very confusing times, and truth be told, I still do.

Then I had kids.

Lucky me, two boys. Wonderful boys healthy, energetic boys who share genes with me. Unfortunately they also share the werewolf.

I saw it early in them when I would take them as toddlers to the boxing club so they could play while I boxed. I let them put on the gloves and pretend. It was fun for them, they loved the rounds we’d “box” when their little four-year-old fists would knock their dad out and they’d get to count to ten. I could see hints of it in their eyes even then.

 I never intended to let them box competitively and still don’t, it’s not a good sport for kids. But I saw it in them as they got older, the way their eyes would change as the punches flew, there is just a thing that glows there. I knew one day I’d have to deal with two little werewolves, I don’t look forward to it.

I’ve taught my boys that violence is wrong. I have never, ever struck either of them other than with gloves on and in good cheer, boxing here is done as play, nothing serious ever, and no one ever gets hurt. Spanking is not allowed in my house, period, not with my kids or guests. We do not hit in this house.Boxing is the exception, if we’re boxing, it’s all in fun.Fortunatley for everyone, we keep a close eye on their friendships, games and TV shows, and we talk to them a lot about violence and bullying, and how there are so many choices that we can make other than hitting… it goes on and on, it’s a hell of a lot of work, but so far we have two geat kids.

Bottom line, I try to teach them that violence against another human is wrong unless in self defence or in the defence of others. Unfortunately I haven’t stressed that strongly enough.

Fast forward to the day before yesterday.

I came home from work and my oldest boy was crying in his room. Mary gave me "THAT" look as I entered the house and said “You need to talk to your son” Things didn’t look good.

I went into his bedroom and found him crying. Once we talked for awhile he told me that while at the swimming pool he had punched another boy. I was immediately pretty mad, I had told him that if he ever used what I taught him against anyone outside the ring that I would never, ever teach him any more. Bottom line, simple as that, end of statement.

“Ferchrissakes!” I spat through gritted teeth “Why the HELL did you do THAT!!” He looked sick, and stared at the floor .

“I was at the swimming pool this afternoon and this kid was holding another kid’s head under the water, and I couldn’t think of anything else to do, so I hit him”

So there I sat, mouth open, anger draining rapidly away and being replaced with embarassment. I realized that I had left my kid totally unprepared for this moment. I had taught him that violence was wrong, and mentioned offhand the two times it’s appropriate but never actually taught him about those times.

All I could do was sit him on my lap and say “Well kid, it sounds like you did the right thing” He started crying again and said..

“I should have used words”

“No kid, words could have taken too long, that kid, whether he knew it or not was threatening the other kid’s life It sounds to me like you had a hard decision to make, and not much time to make it. I’d say you made exactly the right decision. Violence is appropriate in self-defence or in defence of another”

We talked for awhile about why that is, and I realized that yet again I didn't have all the answers. This whole parenthood thing is a pain sometimes.

“Will you still teach me boxing?”

“Yes, you’ve proven to me that you know when to use what you know, and when not to, of course I’ll keep teaching you, and I’m proud of you for a couple of things, first, I’m proud that you did what you made a huge decision in time, and second I’m proud that hitting him upset you, because it means that you know how serious a thing hitting someone is”

We sat for awhile and hugged each other on his bed, and then he  cried again and whispered…

“Dad..it felt really good to hit him”

“Yeah kid, I know, That’s called the werewolf, it’s our family curse”
 
 
 

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