The Perfect Bounce

By Ted Schnack

Sometimes things turn to shit, if we were to ever meet you might notice my nose is crooked, and sometimes things turn out perfect.

I had just turned 21, had been pumping iron hard for a few years and apparently had the right mindset, genetics and determination for that and had built a formidable physique.  Donny, my best buddy growing up was a Taekwondo badass black belt, the cool martial art back then and had been training with him.  So what is the next natural step?   I became a Bouncer at the Dark Horse Bar in Boulder Colorado.  

It was the summer of 1981 and the start of the legendary epic decade of the 80's.  A time where men were still encouraged to be men. Leonard, Hagler, Duran and Hearns were our champions, the NFL celebrated the hardest hitters not fine them,  and Keith Jackson was announcing College football.  Hollywood leading men were Arnold, Stallone and Crocodile Dundee, guys with big muscles and big knives not sappy sissys with pouty lips. 

In the network of bouncers, you would run into at the local gyms or Dojo's. I had heard that three black brothers had moved into town from Michigan.  Playground chatter was they had been stirring up some shit at the local bars and Ko'ed a few College boys The story was they were pretty big dudes and one had been a Golden Gloves Champ and one had just gotten out from Prison for something.     That gets your attention knowing they might come and challenge your turf someday.  Also, there is this thing of the unknown, kind of a mystique they came from Chicago where there were areas that are practically war zones.  Might have grown up having many dozens if not hundreds of street fights.    Nothing better to bring to a street fight other than successful experience and the more the better.  These wouldn't be a run of the mills drunk college students but could challenge us like we hadn't been challenged. 

Another unknown none of bouncers in lily white Boulder including myself had ever tangled with any black guys.    I noticed that 90 percent plus of Combat Sports Hall of Famers are black and maybe have a natural aptitude for fighting well.  I'm recognizing natural talent and I'm giving credit where credit is due.  When sizing up an opponent for possible violent conflict it is best to flush the PC bullshit.    What kind of rules do they follow?     Any street fighting in Colorado blue collar- white middle-class, white trash and some Hispanics thrown in the mix there’s kind of a set of rules in place. Sure, its a street fight, but there are limits. Nobody’s biting anybody’s nose or chunks of somebody’s face. Nobody’s gouging eyeballs or shatter-stomping someone's arm in the crook of the curb. The upper limit seemed to be bad enough as a soccer kick to a downed opponent’s head which I had seen happen a couple of times in street fights but nothing beyond into full crazy land.    

Since I had discovered attacking my body with iron weapons in the gym without mercy creating bigger and stronger muscles and exploring martial arts I had not been on the losing end of  any physical conflicts.  But  I had seen too much shit go down to know everybody has their  Waterloo.   My ass had been handed to me before and I didn’t like it one bit.  It's not really the physical pain but the idea another bull in the herd imposed their violent will on you and try as you might there was not much you could do about it but leave in bleeding in humiliation.   I had transformed myself so a beating now would hurt lots more

There is another really big bonus of being a gym rat. Young sexy women are hot for a guys with some muscle and a good build, for all the same shallow reasons men lust after at women's bodies.  Hot women are driven by hormones just like men still blindly following the primal jungle lusting of their loins to find a strong man with the Golden ratio that can protect the cave, slay invaders, put meat in the pot and give them strong/robust babies.   They are helpless to the hormonal shifting tide that ebbs and flows throughout the month in lunar cycles that Jekyll and Hydes them from incredibly passionate and chill to full moon bat-shit crazy.   They have some sort of prehistoric survival of the fittest wiring of their own.   Through all this emotional chaos of balancing reason and lust there is sort of primal math going on that you want to add up to  Breed with this Guy….Him have good seed. Grunt. Even though really making a baby is the last thing anybody wants. It would take them a while to figure out men like that are better at Olympian sex and going for the gold than making nests.

This particular night I was splitting bouncing with bartending where I could make more money.  So, I see a really built black dude in a striped tank top, something a German sailor might wear in the engine room of a wolf pack submarine.  He is big and he stands out as he walks through the bar and intentionally bumps into a guy right in front of my bar causing him to spill his beer.  No doubt he was looking for trouble.     Hmmm bet it's one of those brothers; I wonder if he is the Convict or the Golden Gloves Champ either way he looks like a handful.     I sensed his muscles were not made just pumping iron, but the kind you use swinging a pickaxe or pounding the shit out of a heavy bag.  

I knew we had a no tank top dress code and soon saw a bouncer, a new guy, walking behind him letting him go and came to me.  It was a busy night, and I was jamming behind the bar.  He tells me the dude just walked past him and scoffed when he said he couldn’t come in with the tank top.    "The manager said we should get you."  I was always point man when it got real and I could tell this guy was going to be trouble so I got the barback to cover my spot at the bar.  

Writing this story has been a fun stroll down memory lane.  Crazy times.  The codes were "24" almost a fight and "25" the Carnival has started, and punches thrown.  With all the chatter over the bar speakers asking for more ice or beer,  a roll of quarters, your waiting for those two numbers.  "25 parking lot!   25 parking lot!"  Hot dam yeeeee haa ........ 

But I digress, okay, I confront him with a couple of other bouncers.   He is confidently leaning back with both elbows on the bar.  I tell him nicely he has to go, and not surprised when he said, "Who is going to make me; I'll fuck up all you pussies".  

Okay game on.   I know when you’re going to take risky decisive action with real consequences it’s time to find an edge. Never look for a fair fight, look to win. But with that said, we had limits.  I could have punched him in the face as hard and fast as I could with his relaxed posture, or someone could have snuck up behind him and wacked him in the head with a beer bottle, or we could have just called the cops.  We were in charge of security and this guy firmly plants his heels right in the middle of your turf symbolically taking a piss on it and says he is going to fuck you up and you’re a pussy to boot so it's feeling a little personal.   But it is still a business, and we always need to consider prudence and manhandling or beating the customers can be bad for business.  We always need to look like good guys.  

The new guy had just punted to me, and that said something.  The other guy there seemed to always come rolling in late for a 25 fight in action call.   I notice shit like that.  So not the A-team I might hope for. 

The two other bouncers I would rather have was Steve Johnson the son of a Wisconsin commercial fisherman with natural ape strength.  Never lifted a weight in his life but his forearms looked like bowling pins covered with a rack of veins.   Grew up on Lake Erie pulling nets for his dad in a cotton hoodie leaning into a beating from a Great Lakes Nor'easter.   That shit makes you natural tough.   

Steve had a head of curly hair and 80's porn mustache and a simple way about him that woman seemed to like.   You could always count on Steve in any scuffle.    

Steve or Donny who had hired on right after me, or better both.  Donny best friend and hunting buddy growing up and had been on tons of hunting adventure together and killed lots of game under tough conditions.  A Black Belt in Tae Kwon Do we had risen through the ranks of the local Alpha Males at about the same pace and had dealt with lots of physical conflict at the bar.  I knew I could count on him.   I had seen him make the most incredible Van Dam like block-strike as a guy tried to hit him in the head with a beer bottle from his blind spot. I'll never forget, perfect ridge hand block sending the bottle spinning off into the darkness and a short snapping backfist dead center of this guy’s nose dropping him like a sack of shit.   But like anyone he wasn’t invincible.  Another time as he was arguing with a guy half his size and lost his focus when the cop car lurched to a stop close by.    I rounded the corner to see him eat a perfect one..two...bam bam, left hook-right hook to the point of his chin Roberto Duran would have been proud of dropping him on his ass.    I was at full speed when I hammered Roberto with an asphalt tackle but this time he was he was the one not looking.  These things are never over till their over.

Donny was kind of looked like Clint Eastwoods brother and chicks dug him too.  Sometime a little bit too much for my taste.  More than a couple of times I found  myself muttering "fuuuucker" under my breath when he had some hottie that I calculated should have been mine. I saw him with Miss Universe to homely fat chicks and everything in between.  He cared zero which brand he was seen in public with. The unwritten rule is you want as many friends as possible to see your with a hottie while the opposite is true with a  Fill in the blank.    I would say "dude that one had to weigh 250, what happened to Tina she was hot as fuck” unfazed he would say "yeah but she had giant tits".  He is looking for the one thing to like while I'm looking for one thing to dislike   Fat ass....nope.  

I wish it was Steve or Donny.  You start to trust and know how a guy reacts after you have been in a tussle or two with them.  You get to know their strengths and weaknesses and they are not going do something flat out stupid.  

It was a purer time of real human interaction.   No phones, No Instagram, Internet Porn, No videos games, No Dating sites.    It was raw and organic and it was awesome.   Young men were out of the house looking for Conquest and Adventures in some sort or fashion and of course the quest and explorations of the luscious loins of young maidens.   Young men were looking for adventure and poontang the story as old as time.   There was this vibrant energy of possibilities, and everyone was kind of looking for a place to make for themselves in the world.  Everything in the 80's felt wide open.  

But I digress 

Now if this guy was a drunk slouch, I would just grab his arm in a side escort position and if he got froggy a quick escort arm bar lock and walk him out the door. 

I had two important things in mind, I got him to think I was afraid of him and said, "You’re a big dude we don't want any trouble."    He noticeably relaxed even more against the bar arrogant that I was afraid of him.  He was expecting more dialogue on why he had to go cause that’s the way it usually goes and likely would have for 99 percent of the people.   But if you know this is going to lead to hands on don't wait too long.  You don't want to give them more time for them to access you and other opponents and come up with their best battle plan to kick your ass and the right time to make their move and mentally prepare themselves for battle.    So don't give them too much time to get their shit together is all I'm saying.  If quick attack is the plan get on with it.   The element of surprise is the oldest trick in the book but still the best.  Surprise them.  But the key is I got him to think I wouldn’t dare attack and that would make the surprise...well more surprising     

He had said he was gonna fuck us all up and honestly, he looked like he might be able to do it.  I made note of his swagger and confidence.   The guy had come looking for a fight and his vibe was he was glad he apparently had found one.  This guy believed in himself and maybe for good reason.  Your mental and physical springs get a little tighter when you know something dangerous is about to happen and getting it wrong can have severe consequences.  

But I knew something he didn't know.

There is a control move that starts with almost a handshake.  The attacker throws that arm and hand high steps under that arm and behind the person in an under his arm spin move keeping their arm and elbow high and into a crazy arm lock.  It is a risky move; you only make it halfway through and it goes bad you are low with your back to him and his arm is around your neck.   Triple bad.  I had practiced it a few times with buddies, who knew it was coming, so not really that sure of real-life application with a bad ass dude that didn't seem to have much of a sense of humor and looking for a fight seemingly little concerned with your 3-1 numerical superiority.     This guy had a half assed smirk on his face and his confidence a little unsettling.  He felt even bigger next to you and thought on first glance... dam that guy has great bicep veins.   I hadn't thought what I was going to do and for a few seconds I stood in front of him that Rolodex of possibilities was spinning and stopped on this under arm spinning arm lock.  A second later I was on board, yep we'll try that.   

It is a move that needs full confidence, commitment and quick smooth application.  You gotta be all in one this one. 

The second thing is I wanted to get him talking.  He is basking and maybe getting a little too relaxed in his new role of being in charge now he thought the white dudes were chicken.  When speaking and someone makes an unexpected attack you have to stop the thought process of speaking, process the surprise, and come up with some sort of response to it.   And in this case, he also has to process first...."buuuuttt your afraid of me....no wait he's not." All that adds up and gives the attacker a few seconds’ advantage.  That is a lot of time in such a situation if you know what to do with the time. 

The next time he spoke was going to be my signal to pounce.

He spoke.   So I did the spinning underarm high elbow move as fast as I could and it worked like a charm and then some. In a flash I had spun under his arm, and he was in high shoulder wrist lock on his tippy toes to avoid the pressure.  I ended up tucked behind his right shoulder facing his direction a double gorilla grip on his hand that was key to it all.  I was surprised it had worked so well and I’m sure he was quite surprised too.  As I ran him through the bar keeping that elbow high the wrist twist tight; leaning forward and found the heel of his bladed hand is kind of like a rudder to direct where you are running.  Twist this way we go that way and visa versa. He was trying hard to muscle his way out and will never forget the crackling and popping of his muscles and joints as he fought the pressure and move. 

It is kind of one of those joint locks the harder you fight the tighter it gets. We were moving fast, and I used him as a battering ram to open the heavy wooden double front doors. Pushing him forward he tumbled to the ground. He regained his feet shocked and wide eyed to what had happened.  So rolling with the flow, trying to act like this is something you do every night, I said "don't come back again you'll get really fucked up" as he walked off into the darkness making occasional glances back. 

So I came back inside to where it had happened heading back to my bar and the other bouncers and patrons stood and applauded.   Okay I would be lying if I told you that didn’t feel pretty good.   In just a short time the situation had gone from maybe getting your ass beat in front of everyone to getting the Standing O. Who doesn’t like that.  But at moments like that you gotta act like you have been in the end zone many times, toss the ball to the ref, a slight smile and head nod and back to my bar.

But inside I was thinking "Wheeeww...Dammmn that really worked that was fucking awesome!! The perfect bounce, nobody hurt, the antagonist a formidable opponent removed, and your point well made.   So for a few weeks your on higher alert for a revenge attack but we never saw him again.  Heard one of the brothers got in a fight with some cops and went to prison.    The 80s were awesome