[Daniel Magix]

I was 8 years old and in my first real fight. I was defending my little brother, but I don't remember the details of why I was defending him. The kid I was scrapping with was a year older than me, and he was fat. Probably had 30lbs on me. The fight was going down on the porch of the apartment building across the street from our duplex. All the neighborhood kids were railing the fight and cheering it on. At one point, I was pretty freaked out because I felt the air being squished outta me. I think he was basically laying on my, compressing my chest. With my young life flashing before my eyes, I knew I had to make something happen here. I don't know how I got him off of me, but I did, and I ended up locking him up in a pretty awesome scissor-choke with my legs. I'm pretty sure he was about to tap - when my dad crossed the street, stopped the fight, and got me and my brother. As we crossed the street, I felt like I was walking the Green Mile. I was pretty sure I was in for some serious punishment.

To my surprise, my dad looked down at me, smiled, and gave me a high-five. I'll never forget the surprise, pride and relief that I felt at that moment.