Glad you said that shambles cos I didn't want to be misunderstood and I'm glad someone else got some identificication.
I was a slightly diffrerent case in that I had skills from ea early age (judo from 5 years old, making the nationals every year and winning myfair share of trophies). Even then though my biggest problem was the nerves i would get before a fight. It affected both my performance for my footy team and my performances in judo championships (though sometimes the extra adrenaline worked to an adantage, once one gold and "throw of the day" trophie for a win inside 2 seconds, against my toughest rival rival as well).
My problems kicked in more again when i was around 13 14. I guess I was kinda a nerd, in that i was in top set, plus i was into rock and stuff, but I never got bullied so much as made to fight cos i was also on the footy team and picked P.E as one of my final two year choice subjects. There was this one lad who used to play footy with us, or encroach on are game with his geeza prick mates off the estate, after school. He always used to go for me man. Maybe because I had a posher accent for the area, or cos I was good (football was my whole life until i tore my achilles tendon clean through on second game of season at 14 - devasted me, used to play 6-7 hours every sat and sun, plus few hours after school evryday i wanted to be a pro so bad). Anyway this kid would usuallu have a weapon on him. He had this hockey sick he liked and he would smash me round the legs so bad. It was after one particulary bad beating off this guy that i decided i needed to learn how to fight.
That's when i started training tae kwon do, age 14 training 3 times a week. There were 4 of us, me, my best mate who'd also come off a similar beating, my bro and his psycho mate who never went anywhere without a duster. This was the difference btween me and shambles i guess. i wish I had had the guts to just take the beatings, but instead i got up my confidence by getting the skills first. Worked though. Reputaion got around and soon the guys that had been fucking with me, calling me out in front of people all the time, starting taking less risks. i remember the clinical time when this beast of a guy who'd always bullied me, came up to me in gym when i was 16 and had a couple years training under my belt. He walked up to me and ran his finger down the bridge of my nose real slow then said how he was gonna smash it all over my face. It was different than before though, he was more testing the waters. i never broke eye contact with him, and told him to fucking bring it. That was the end of my troubles at school.
Later on in life, during my drinking years at uni i had two opposite sort of things happen that sill haunt me. The first was me blind drunk picking a fight with this guy. In fairness he was a geeza and on the footy team an evetything, but he didn't stat it and just didn't want to back down. I got chucked out the club for starting on him, then half hour later my mate got out the club and pointed him out. i was wasted i only remember bits but I wouldn't let it go. "Pussy,Pussy" I kept shouting after him. we got to the top of the sea front and squared off. his bird said somthing and i told her to fuck off. He didn't like that next thing it kicked of and we hit the ground. It was worse cos i was boxing by that time too. I caught him with 4 clean shots, left and right combo, to the face before his mates descended in on me. The useless bastards couldn't even do shit to me even though i was on the ground and they were trying to kick me in the head and everything. I was just too skilled i guess. I really hurt this lad though. My shirt was covered in blood so you can imagine what his face looked like. That hit me hard. It was one of my earliest attempts to tone down my drinking.
The other situation was total opposite. I got set up and found myself round the back of an alley way, having been up for 3 days on speed and alcohol. The second someone pushed me forward beind a parked car i turned and saw a see of white hats and trainers. Don't ask me if it was 10 or 20, what's the difference. They were bigger than me as well. Somehow i outran them to the end of the cut way out onto the open street (it was night time and real dark), but as i turned the corner i clipped my heal and the closest one managed to kick my legs out. Fortunately all those rounds in the gym mean't i had an iron clad guard, but even that isn't gonna save you when you got ten plus brick shit houses penalty kicking you full in the face. Fortunately there were police everywhere, plus normal people, one of who broke it up, or rather intervened at the around the time he tried to step in - don't think any of them fancied prison.
Most of the kicks went around the side of head (couldn't even really think straight for about six days i took so many blows) but a couple found their way through the my guard. My right eye was split real bad so i was covered in blood and one of my front teeth was cracked. Rips didn't feel to great either. As they ran off back out of site i was stood there in the middle of the street laughing because i couldn't believe how little damage i actually came away with, my nose wan't broken, or even my jaw. At the same time i never got over what would have happened if they got me round the back of that alley where they were waiting. i'd put money that several had blades and I reckon i'd be in a wheel chair right now most probably. Also happened 5 days after my first ever suicide attempt. I was also homeless at the time too. Don't know how i didn't crack up mentally but I somehow held stong for the 3 weeks before some angel sent from heaven from the council service moved me into final year accomodation. Took me a few years to realise it, but i now know, looking back that I suffered post traumatic stress disorder for a good couple of years after that.
) but never backed down and never gave up. Was always other people stepping in that broke it up. Usually around the point I couldn't actually see for the amount of blood in my eyes. By modern standards this was all pretty tame stuff - certainly no blades or owt - but vicious enough. And I must admit I 
'd it. And hated it. Terrfiied of it. Looking forward to it. Funny ol' mix. I suspect it was mostly trying to work off anger and frustration from homelife but - as mentioned - the fact I focussed my aggression on the most wildly inappropriate (in terms of having any chance of beating) but most wonderfully appropriate (in terms of "sticking it to the man" (well, bullyboy(s))) does rather please me even now. In a funny kinda way.
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