Emma Ross curated this story by Matt Bielejeski, which The Appalachian published Oct. 1, 1998.
“C’mon, hit somebody!”
These words, repeatedly spoken by the ringside announcer at Friday night’s ToughMan Competition, didn’t need to be repeated. Most people that competed needed no motivation to attempt to pulverize someone they didn’t know. But it was much more complicated than that. A web of deceit and lies was spun around the event. “How so,” you ask? Keep reading, and I will give you the inside skinny on the racket that was the ToughMan Competition.
I first heard about the whole event about two weeks ago. After blindly walking by fliers posted in Wal-Mart and Harris Teeter, I finally noticed one on King Street. I read the details calling all “street fighters, martial artists, boxers” or anyone else who wanted a fight to come on down and show their skills. “Hmmm,” I thought, “this could be interesting.” I’d always heard about those Ultimate Fighting Championships, and the stories I’d heard were pretty graphic. Talk of guys getting their arms and legs snapped like twigs, muscles being torn, and a lot of blood flying around the ring provides perfect entertainment for your average bloodthirsty college student.
When I returned back to East Hall, I heard that a friend of mine was actually going to try and survive this insanity. As the days drew closer, I saw him doing a little bit of training. Now this guy (whom I’ll call Tyrone) has some martial arts skills. Self-taught, but still, definitely having skills. I figured he would at least take down a few Southern boys who were accustomed to bar room brawls. Well, he would have, if he hadn’t been given the shaft by whoever organized and promoted this event.
“The shaft?” I hear you saying. “What’s that all about?” Just keep on trucking down the page as I explain the supreme shaftage that occurred.
Friday night; what a wonderful night to fight. My buddies and I got there right when the doors opened, so as to obtain the best seating possible for our well-spent $10 advance tickets. I slowly took in my surroundings.
Positioned right at the garage-door opening to the Boone Armory was an ambulance, ready and waiting to whisk some poor fool off to the emergency room. Seeing the ambulance seemed like a good sign that a decent amount of violence was about to take place. I began to get a little giddy.
People filed in for the next hour, as the fights didn’t start until an hour after the doors had opened. For those of you who read my last column on the pro wrestling match, you might remember the character of Sea Bass, that stereotypical good ol’ boy. Well, there were hundreds of Sea Bass in attendance at this event; a veritable school of Sea Bass. Short, skinny Sea Bass, tall, wide Sea Bass, even female Sea Bass.
Funny thing was, I even saw the original Sea Bass from last week’s wrestling match back again for the ToughMan Competition—and he even had his NWO hat on.
While we were waiting for the fights to start, Tyrone came up to my friends and I and explained the bad news, a.k.a. The shaftage. All the competitors had to buy N.C. boxing licenses, and would be boxing each other with 16-ounce gloves. No kicking. No wrestling. No arm bars, pile drivers, or snapping of bones. It was going to be just a straight-out boxing match.
This point is where getting the shaft comes in. My boy Tyrone had been training for the fight advertised on the flier; a no-holds barred competition to see who was “the meanest, baddest, toughest man in Watauga County.” And of course, this title was to be determined by who could box the best? What was that about?
Tyrone was obviously more than a little pissed. However, since he had paid his money for his boxing license and entry fee, he figured he’d give it a shot. Good man. Even in the face of daunting adversity, he persevered.
The ringside announcer started prattling on about who the judges were, how the fights would be scored, blah, blah, woof, woof, right on down the line. Once he was done with his monologue, the first two fighters were called into the ring. Fast Eddie, the referee, started the match, and everything went along peachily. Only later would I find out how Fast Eddie received his nickname.
Most fights took this track: for the first one-minute round, the combatants would flail full-speed at each other, rarely connecting. Then, for the second and third rounds, their arms and shoulders would be so tired that their punches would be so slow as to barely have a chance of connecting. It was still interesting to watch, though.
Time went on and eventually Tyrone was called to the ring. While the announcer was calling the other fighter to the ring, Tyrone cut the air with a few well-placed punches, then executed a 360-degree jump kick.
The crowd went nuts. They were expecting to see something good in this match. Well, sorry, but they got the shaft too.
The first round went well for Tyrone. From the pool of combatants, he had drawn a Sea Bass, some guy who fought in his cowboy boots. Tyrone should have given him a new definition of pain. Why didn’t it happen?
About midway into the second round, Tyrones’s mouth guard got knocked halfway out of his mouth. He turned to Fast Eddie and motioned to his mouth guard. Now in a previous match, a fighter’s mouth guard had gotten knocked clean out of his mouth, and Fast Eddie stopped the fight in a flash, getting the mouth guard cleaned and in it’s proper position.
When Tyrone motioned to Fast Eddie to stop the fight because of his mouth guard problems, Fast Eddie stopped the fight and declared cowboy boot-wearing Sea Bass the winner.
Tyrone told Fast Eddie why he motioned to his mouth guard, but Fast Eddie wouldn’t listen. No wonder they call him Fast Eddie. I just feel sorry for his wife.
Sea Bass was declared the winner, and Tyrone left the ring. My friends and I were all screaming at Fast Eddie that he didn’t know what the hell was going on, but it was to no avail.
The rest of the fights were good, but we were in no mood to enjoy the mediocre violence. Tyrone got the shaft, and we weren’t happy about it.
So to those of you who are thinking about trying to ToughMan Competition next year, be aware that it’s just a glorified boxing match, and you’ll probably get the shaft from Fast Eddie.
