We always wonder if, presented with an imagined opportunity, we’d take it.
Last week I was presented with one of those opportunities.
I took it.
I started taking martial arts classes last September. I’d always wanted to do it and my doctor told me I needed more exercise. He wasn’t wrong.
I’m a gold belt now, working my way up to orange. It’s slow progress, but I’m enjoying it.
What does this have to do with my moment of self revelation? I’m getting to it.
Last week at the end of class we did one of our sparring games. The teacher put an arm shield in the center of the floor and paired the class off on opposite ends. I was #5. My opposite on the other the end of the floor was a big high school kid who I often get paired off with based on size.
The object of the game is simple. Grab the shield and get back to your spot without getting tagged by your opponent OR make your opponent touch the shield before you do. Fight or run. Simple.
Our number was called and we squared off over the shield. We danced around one another for a few seconds, and then he leaned into me.
Have I mentioned that I’m nearly 40 and this guy is 16 tops? And he’s already my size?
Anyway, instinct took over. He came at me and I cinched in a front facelock. I cinched it in tight. Then I used his moment to pull him down and tap his head on the shield.
That’s right. I DDT’ed him.
It lacked the snap necessary to put him away, but that wasn’t really the point.
Somewhere Jake Roberts was smiling, or ordering another round, or something.
I’d always wondered what that would be like and when the opportunity presented itself I did it. I didn’t realize what I was doing until it was overy, but yes, I DDT’ed him.
And I didn’t even think about it.
Am I proud to have DDT’ed a teenager? Not necessarily.
I will say there was a certain level of self preservation involved. Let’s be honest, if he’d taken me to the ground, I would have been a whole lot slower recovering then he would. Will I get payback? Probably, but that’s the name of the game.
Well, actually, that’s Triple H.
But I digress.
I no longer have to wonder what it’s like to throw a DDT.
Instead I’ve replaced that with wondering what it’s going to feel like when Ricky knocks me on my ass in the weeks to come.
Cruel but Fair?