"First of all I'd like to say that Jerry Lawler is a son of a jackass. He is a lover of chickens."
And if there were more fierce fighting words than calling someone a chicken fucker, I don't know what they are. Terry Funk is belligerent and assured that he can't get a fair shake at Jerry Lawler. Everybody's on Jerry Lawler's side because this is his town. So he hands the envelope over to Lance Russell to deliver to the King. It has a time and it has a place.
When I was about 13 years old I remember the time and the place was the Huntingburg City Park at 4:45, because it would take you about 40 minutes to get home and check in with your parents from when school was out at 3:20 PM and another 45 minutes to get across town to the park. Word had gotten down, somehow, from the High School to the Middle School that there was going to be a fight. By the time I strolled in with a couple of my friends I came upon two 17 year olds with their eyes locked flanked by about 40 kids who didn't have cable TV. They paced that circle for what seemed like another 40 minutes before a voice from somewhere in the back said the words that have started so many epic battles throughout the years. "What are you guys, pussies?" And suddenly they flew at each other in a flurry of awkwardness and testosterone. I'd say it was probably about 40 seconds before one of them laid with a busted lip and appeared to have tears welling up in his eyes. I remember the victor slowly rising up off of him, quietly. And then everyone just disappeared, like fog billowing and dissipating all inside of 30 seconds.
Years later, after achieving what could legally be called adulthood, I remember sitting at the picnic tables at that same park. It was late in the evening, and as there's really not many bars in small town Indiana, the park was often used as a meeting place for the young and the old alike. There were brick shelters in a couple of spots inside the park, punctuated by a beach volleyball net on one side and a baseball field on the other. These shelters had all the style that could be expected of small town government ventures. An assortment of rainbow-coloured picnic tables inside them, the paint chipping off and splinters for all. It never stopped people from booking them out.
I could hear a ruckus and the locust-like sound of scurrying sets of feet coming towards me. Alcohol wasn't allowed in the park, but it seemed to reside there anyway. And I saw, stumbling out of the shelter a khaki-short wearing young man, glasses on his head backwards and the scruff of his neck being held by a balding old coot with the waistline of his slacks approaching his chest. The entire way, the kid was insulting every branch of the guy's family tree. Finally, he discarded him outside of the shelter and started to wipe his hands of the whippersnapper. Then that young man said the words that have started so many epic battles throughout the years. "What are you, a pussy?"
Cue the locust swarm. This old guy instantly about-faced came back out and had his dukes up like a 1930's prize fighter. The old guy basically opened up a clock cleaning business right on the drunkard's face. I'll never forget that guy wailing afterwards, and how the fog vanished as he was left there crying about his nose and his expensive sunglasses. When the police arrived and found this bloody mess, I could hear him crying again, but this time he was telling them how he got sucker punched and he'd have taken him in a fair fight, even though he could barely defeat falling over on his rubber legs as he yelled.
We see the empty arena, where Lance Russell is talking to the camera man about what may or may not happen this evening when Terry Funk walks into the arena cussing up a storm. Jerry Lawler eventually shows up, and becomes the first man to ever show up to a street fight wearing a crown and cape.
Funk continues running Lawler down as only a crazy belligerent person can. Lawler wants to keep this a wrestling match but it quickly disintegrates into the street brawl it was meant to be. Eventually Funk hits a piledriver on the floor, and goes to the wooden steps where he breaks a piece of it off. His voice is getting higher and higher in pitch before he tries to stab Lawler IN THE EYE with it.
"You son of a bitch you tried to kill me! I'm gonna get his eye!"
It ends up backfiring as Lawler kicks Funk in the elbow and the stake goes into HIS eye. Lawler goes down to his knees and prepares to punch Funk again but holds up as Funk is screaming in agony and nearly in tears. Lawler stands up slowly and walks away. All the while Funk begs for help, which turns to him asking where Lawler went? "Where is that coward?! He's yellow. Lawler's yellow."
It's fantastic to see. Everything. Conflict is a part of life. You can be a hippie or you can be a businessman and you'll still find conflict somewhere. And where you see conflict, you'll see people. When I was 13 years old, I remember thinking 'this is how kids solve their problems'. And then when I became an 'adult' I realized that adult is just a word we make up to pretend we don't fight and scrap exactly like we did when we were 13. And there are millions of ghosts shifting in and fading out around those scraps.
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