We got home from the bar late, and while my girlfriend
(now my wife) puttered around the apartment getting ready for bed, I flicked on
the television to see if there was anything interesting on. There was nothing
on the few channels that sometimes had English programming, but I was patient
and after a while I found something interesting on a Korean station. There was
a broadcast of a Thai kickboxing match. Usually I have no interest in
kickboxing, but this time I noticed that one of the combatants was an
above-the-elbow amputee.
I refilled my beer glass from the two liter bottle of Korean
draft I'd bought at the corner store, and when my girlfriend asked why I wasn’t
coming to bed yet I told her what I had found on the tube. She didn’t sound
impressed, but for the moment she didn’t pester me further.
The amputee, in blue shorts, had a boxing glove on his stump
(is stump the politically correct term?) and a mean looking face. He reminded
me of the little guy that hangs out in the bar looking for much bigger men to
beat up so he can prove his size isn't holding him back. Napoleon Syndrome,
they call that. I don’t know what they call it when amputees want to beat up
non-amputees to prove that nothing's holding them back. Maybe they could name
the syndrome after this kick-boxer, whatever his name is.
In red shorts, his opponent looked uneasy. He seemed to know
he was going to have a rough fight on his hands, and from a certain point of
view there would be no way to win. If he lost he would have the shame of being
defeated by an amputee, and if he won he couldn't claim much glory from beating
up an amputee, even though the amputee was undoubtedly well-ranked.
The bell went to start the first round and they went at it.
It was a violent fight, and the crowd was clearly on the side of the amputee.
He used his shortened limb to parry punches, but had only three-quarters of the
striking options of his opponent. Even so, he fought hard, clearly wanting to
give the man in red shorts a thumping. His major handicap was the balance he
lost from missing part of his arm, so his opponent’s kicks occasionally made
his stumble before he could regain his stability.
Unwittingly I found myself cheering for the two-armed man
for the simple reason that the look on the amputee’s face was so mean-spirited.
As well, the crowd was behind the one-armed man and I seemed to see the two
armed man as some sort of reverse underdog. Because one man was an amputee he
was immediately the crowd favorite and everyone wanted to see him win. That
seemed unfair to me.
I watched half a dozen rounds of combat and each man gave as
good as he got. They beat each other up pretty badly for our amusement. I
didn’t get to see how the fight finished or whether it ended in knockout or
decision, because at long last my girlfriend called me to bed, not understanding
why I should possibly care who would win a Thai
kickboxing match on television at three-thirty in the morning.
