School fights were about fifty/fifty for me. Often they went to the ground quasi-intentionally (exhaustion, attempts at humiliation, that's how that game was played). Occasionally, especially in high school, they weren't so intentional as I often fought with the football players or other monstrousities whose first thought was to pick my skinny butt up and throw me down. Lucky I was trained to fall, eh?
Streetfights, and there were a lot of 'em, were a different story. Staying up was key. As a skinny, effeminate goth with a mohawk, I was a favorite to get jumped by the skinheads in town (Cincinnati) and it was never a fair ratio. They would make sure they outnumbered us before they would attack. I went down several times, but you feared for your life if you hit the pavement in those situations. Of course, by then, I was kickboxing on the amateur circuit (hey there everybody from back then...1985-1989) so my balance was well trained. You can always count on iced, slippery surfaces and Mr. Murphy to help you come down to earth in those tussles. Scared? Yes. Stupid and young enough to keep finding myself in those situations? Yes.
oh well.
