Childhood memories of your dad punching some guy out

In My Humble Opinion
1

(if the person being punched was your mom, please abstain. This thread is intended for lighter though nasty nostalgia)

A co-worker of mine will alwasy associate Zoo Atlanta with the first time he saw his dad punch another man. Which got me thining on the universality of this experience.

In the 60’s my dad owned a bar in Freeport Illinois that was the only place serving both white and Black patrons. Idealism aside, the worst elements of both sides of town gravitated to the place, so along with sweeping up wedding rings and placing them on a nail on the back wall for later retieval, and breaking up $2 handjobs in the back booth, his job sometimes included forstalling arguments with a quck sock to the face. He always hit them with his left, which they never expected.

My FIL had been all-army welterweight champ '54 & '55, so my wife had no shortage of these stories. (Welterweights accumulate more of them because bullies see these little guys and think they’ve found an easy mark)

If you have any similar stories, please share. And again, another thread if yours is about you or your mom or siblings getting beat up. I got hit too, and yes I know there’s an entire, better world of people who don’t settle their differences with violence (I live there myself).

But still, there’s a magical childhood moment a kid has when he sees his or her dad punch some jerk’s lights out.

2

Eerr yeah…

I didn’t even know adults in real life (outside TV) even argued until I was about 12 years old when a youngish man verbally abused my father from his car window. I was shocked.

Even today 40 years later I struggle to recall ever seeing any violence between adults. Ok, drunken waving of fists when I was at university but it never came to anything.

3

I remember I was about six or so walking through the parking lot on the way to the store with my mother and father. There was a man waiting at the front door who muttered “sexy bitch” towards my mother. My father wasn’t very tall about 5’8" but punched like freight train. When he heard the remark he paused for a second, walked up to the man. I still remember his silly ass grin like what are you going to do about it. And my father just landed one, it knocked him on his ass and out, and we walked into the store.

That was also the first day I stole my first (and only) car. I found one of those toy peddle cars for kids and peddled around the store in it while I followed my parents and just peddled out right out of the store with it. While my parents thought it was funny apparently. My parents were hippies without a cause what do you expect.

4

Uh, no. Do you *really *think this is something common? :confused:

5

My dad was 6’5’’, a Navy veteran, and the quietest, gentlest man I ever met. I’ve seen him angry, but never violent. Probably a good thing.

My mom’s dad? Virtually the same. Over 6 feet, but his quiet demeanor belied his past.
He was in the OSS, then a Tommy Gun-Toting FBI agent, then Postal Inspector. He pursued and captured many dangerous criminals in his day, and was one of the agents that shot and killed Ma and Freddy Barker in their final shootout. He was not one to take shit off of anyone, including grandkids!

I spent my summers with him & my Grandmother in their Airstream touring North and South America thoroughly.

Twice in Mexico we were in a small town, just walking along, when he grabbed a man and pounded the hell out of him. Turns out the man was a pickpocket, and my grandfather was wrong guy to pick. The police took the man away and let us go on our way.

Several days later in another town, it happened again, and again, this seemingly old, weak member of the herd of tourists snatched this asshat, spun him around, broke his arm, and put him on the ground in about 2 seconds without ever dropping his pipe. Again, the police were apologetic and glad to see tourists unhurt.

Funny thing is, they never got his wallet or money. That stayed deep in a front pocket zipped shut. He kept his tobacco in a folding leather pouch in his back pocket, and that’s what the pickpockets always went for!

I don’t enjoy fighting just for the sake of fighting, but seeing a bad guy encounter a true bad ass is a thing of beauty.

6

The only time I’ve ever seen my father become violent was after Alzheimer’s had set in.

7

I don’t remember much of it because I lost conciousness for a while.

8

When I was in grade school and high school, I was bullied a lot. This happened when I was about 10. After school, standing outside in the parking lot waiting to be picked up, several boys were bullying me by shoving me around and jeering at me as usual. At the moment they were doing that, my dad drove up. He saw them, lost his temper, and rushed them. He didn’t actually punch them out, but picked one up by the front of his shirt with one hand and tossed him back on the others, yelling, “What the hell are you doing? That’s my [child] you’re bullying!” (He said my gender wrong, but so did most people back then; it was 1970, I think.) Then we drove away.

While it was happening, I was so happy my dad was defending me. After I’d been bullied for years, this was the first time somebody important stood up for me, and it was a joyous thing to see my dad being my hero. Then as soon as we got back in the car, he started yelling at me for getting bullied. :confused::frowning:

So I got to stay happy for about one minute. Yay.

9

Maybe in certain towns or neighborhoods. I grew up in a pretty suburban part of Connecticut. My parents, my friends parents and all the parent’s friends were all working professionals. I don’t ever reacall ANY adults every getting into any sort of fistacuffs.

10

MY dad, punch someone? It’s even more inimaginable than picturing him dressed up as Queen Latifah, and I’m talking about a thin, white, blue-eyed, ash-haired, bald guy.

My brothers and mother saw a guy try to punch him as they were walking from the car to his mom’s flat (I was away in college); Dad reflexively stopped the blow, “what the heck?”, “you %/(/)&/!!!” “sir, I do not even know you!” Turns out the guy had mistaken Dad for his older brother, who’d fired him a few days before. The guy’s tearful account of “being late just a few times and barely ever missing a day because of a hangover, and I’d only crashed the forklift once before” was spoiled somewhat by his apparently having spent the last pay on enough cheap wine to fall a tree.

11

(OT) “Uh” “Um” “ahem”

Maybe not as common as typing with one’s trachea. Is it prolapsed or just condescending?

12

My dad is a total A-Type Asshole, so I saw him get in fights a few times. Memorable ones were:

when he was cut off by two teenage guys, I was in the truck with him and I think I was about 14, and he flagged them down. Stupid kids pulled over, my dad had his firearm exposed at his side and he punched one of the teenagers in the face. My dad was lucky he didn’t get the cops called on him, the teens were probably terrified. I was mortified.

Another time, when I was much younger (about 7 or 8 I think), my dad and my Uncle (my mom’s brother) got in a fist fight in the driveway of a relatives house. My dad was a good 6 inches taller and 30 lbs bigger than my uncle, plus my dad has military training and was active duty for 30 years, so my uncle didn’t have a chance

Another one, I was about 16 and at a Dylan concert with my dad and step mom. Some drunk guy scooted past my stepmom, may have or may have not brushed her boobs, said something to her that I couldn’t hear and my dad went ape shit and clocked the guy. Then we moved to another part of the concert hall and he didn’t get in trouble. I think most of the adults there were either too drunk or too high to care. :rolleyes:

13

Not to threadshit, but I have no memories of my dad punching anyone out because he was a friendly, peaceful man. And if he had, I doubt that I would have found it “magical.”

14

No, but I remember my Dad getting in the face of a kid who flipped him the bird. I’m pretty sure that kid did not expect to get the tongue lashing he did.

15

I remember my father getting pretty aggravated at people a time or two, but never actually coming to blows.

Of course, a lot of that could be because he was a pretty intimidating red haired, red bearded 6’3" 280lb guy who looked like an extra in a viking movie. People generally didn’t want to find out if he was as mean as he looked like he might be.

16

Twice my Dad saw someone grab a handful of cash from the collection basket at church and make a break for it. Both times they made it about a block before being tackled from behind and pinned down until the police arrived. I thought it was awesome as all the kids in school (the one affiliiated with the church) talked about it all week.
He also jumped on top of a guy wrestling/harrassing a woman in Milwaukee and just staying there until the cops arrived. So not a puncher so much as a restrainer and citizen arrester.

17

Nothing remotely like that ever happened.

18

We were driving up a long hill at the speed limit. Some guy tailgates our car to where you couldn’t see its taillights. Dad slows down. He explains that it’s better to have an accident at 30 mph than 50 mph. Traffic coming down the hill so the guy can’t pass. The guy is on his horn and finally bumps into my father’s car. Dad stops the car in the roadway and gets out to discuss the issue with the jerk. As I was watching, the guy makes a fist and my father decks him. Dad gets back into the car and we drive off. The jerk start driving but stays way back.

My dad spent two tours in the Marines. He also worked part time as a bartender at a saloon so he had a little bouncer experience also.

19

Ditto.

20

I also have no memories of this, but my mom does say that once, before I was born, they were tooling around town in the winter, with their windows rolled down for some reason, when a teenager chucked a snowball at their car, and it hit my mom. I don’t think he decked the kid but I do think he did the aforementioned rough grab by the collar schtick.