I recently boasted that, siblings and Dorkass notwithstanding, I've never thrown a punch. I later realized I can no longer make this claim. That's a little disappointing.
Before last year, each story was the same: belligerent drunk comes after me; I get in his grill; I get punched in the face; I mock his impotence and offer him another shot; certain that I must be on PCP, he backs off. There were slight variations. Sometimes, for instance, I got punched in the ear. One time a guy fell down before reaching me. One time after absorbing a roundhouse to my mouth, I gestured to a guy's petite girlfriend and suggested that perhaps she should take the second shot. But the theme was more or less the same.
When I scored Super Bowl tickets last year, I sold one to a man in Houston. I made sure it went to a Steelers fan, of course, but I otherwise had no idea who would be sitting next to me. He arrived shortly before kickoff completely soused and holding two enormous beers, neither of which was for me. In the first quarter, he finished them (who could blame him, really) and left for more. He was a horrible drunk, constantly demanding attention from those around him. A perpetual high-fiver is bad enough, but he was also a chronic hugger. Shudder.
He annoyed me. He annoyed everyone else. They complained about my "friend" when he left. Finally, when Ward hauled in El's touchdown pass, his enthusiasm erupted. He tackled me with surprising force, wrapping his arms around my thighs and sending me tumbling into the little old man to my left, who was on crutches because of knee surgery.
That's when I punched the guy. Hard.
He was instantly subdued, sitting in his $3800 seat and desperately trying to stop his mouth from bleeding. He was apologetic. People patted me on the back. But of this moment, I have three dominant memories: 1) I completely missed celebrating the Steelers' "kill" moment, 2) the only thing I had on hand to stop his bleeding was my Terrible Towel, which is still covered in his blood today, and 3) he ruined my "never punched a guy in anger" story.
Thanks, pal. Why do I have the feeling you've ruined that for a lot of people?
This story is loathingly dedicated to my brother, Russ, who made it his childhood mission to ensure that I would have both the ability and need to take a punch to the face.