Winning Without Fighting (PTK Testimonial #3)

I was working late -- again. This was a few years ago, when I was working as an immigration attorney. I enjoyed fighting, loved a challenge, so why not make a career of litigating against the Department of Homeland Security? Somebody needed to help the people who milk our cows, grow our food, staff our hospitals, and play on our sports teams; as well as those fleeing genocide, war crimes, and crimes against humanity. 

So here I was prepaing a 12 inch stack of attachments for a lawsuit I was filing against the Secretary of the Department of Homeland Security and the head of the Federal Bureau of Investigation and a whole host of governemnt officials, agencies, and departments. Why? Because they were sandbagging my client's citizenship applications, specifically the FBI had been sitting on his security check for years, when they are required by law to complete the process within six months.

My client, Yussef [pseudonym], was a green card holder with a US citizen wife and 2 US citizen children. Him and his wife came to the US from Iraq as refugees in the 90's after Yussuf fought in an unsuccessful rebellion against Saddam Hussain following the first Gulf War. He started a business, began a family, got his green card, and starting living the American dream.

Years go by, he has a successful business, the kids are honor roll students, wife get her citienship; and then Bush invades Iraq, again. Some guys in dark suits show up, take Yussuf away, and inform him he is now working as a translator, guide, language and culture instructor for the US military. It is a hardship to leave his busiess and family, but he is a loyal permanent resident of the US and no fan of Saddam.

When he first called me, it was from Fort Bragg, where he lived and worked at the time. He had a security clearance for that. So what was the problem? My attachments were full of photos of Yussef and Force Recon Marines, Rangers, SEALs, and all manner of special operators; it conatined letters from generals and colonels, one even stated, "Yussuf, saved our lives in Fallujah."  I had medals and commendations, better busineess bureau certifications, schoool report cards, letters from neigbors, friends, and clergy; even letters from the kids saying, "pleease don't deport my daddy, an so on. 

It was 1:00am, I electronically submitted my Writ of Mandamus (compels the government to do a job it is required to so by law, i.e. complete the FBI security check. I was tired and hungry, so I ambled off to Gabrilel's Gate, home of the best Buffalo style chicken wings in the Universe. I was minding my own business (my girlfreind clains that I never mind my own business) when the 6'5" 250lbs. bouncer, a friend of mine, came up to me in a panick. There were a couple of real street toughs acting out of control, whom he just asked to leave. They left, but were loitering outside, threating patrons coming in and out. 

Minding my own business, lol, I said "don't worry I'll take care of this." I walked outside, narry a cop in sight, and went right up to these two thugs in their early thirties.  A short, cordial converstation devolved into the more "hopped up" one saying he was gonna "knock me out." I looked at him and said, "if you can hit me?" His friend laughed. I started circling, ducking, waiving-in and out. It was clear he had no chance one on one, but he had bakup. His friend then started yellling at him to give him a cigarette. While his friend ignored him trying to track me, I stopped, calmly walked over and gave hime a cigarette. (I have siince quit that addiction).

Grateful, he turned to his friend and said, "Yo [explative deleted], why don't you leave this man alone?" He then said, "come on it's time for us to go home" and they walked down the middle of the street into the darkness. It then occured what  Sun Tzu had said, that "to subdue the enemy without fighting is the acme of skill."

The next day I got a call from the local head of Homeland Security. He said "we want to bring Yussef in for another interview for his citizenship application." I said "too late, were suing you in Federal Court." He said I know, I just got a call from the Attorney General. Look, this is not a real interview, we want to give him his citizenship." 

Wow! Twice in two days I had defeated the enemy without fighting.

Beating Multiple Opponents (PTK Testimonial #2)

My life was a runaway train. My high stress, work hard, play harder life style was about to go off the rails. I was a middle age attorney with a penchant for fine cigars and single malt scotch. I had just moved my office to an historic downtown entertainment district with plenty of pubs. I was practicing international and immigration law at the time and I was dealing with a few clients overseas, which meant late nights at the office. I wondered, how did my life become an episode of Mad Men?

On this particuar night, i.e. early morning, I was out at the pubs shooting pool waitng for last call, so I could get on the phone when people were just getting to the office overseas. I went into the men's room to relieve myself before walking back to my office, when two guys burts in laughing, racing for the last toliet. While zipping up, I made the mistake of joining in on the witty banter at the expense of the loser of the footrace.

One the guys was fairly well intoxicated and had the gusto to tell me he was "going to kick my ass!." At this point two more of his friends entered this tiny restroom. I was already in motion as they entered, lightly pushing the drunk guy, who pants undone fell into the toilet. OK, now it was a 3 on 1. Guy #2 said "You're really gonna fight him with three of his friends right here?"

I looked around, quickly surmsing the scene. Here I was, surrounded, at close-quarters. I was 42, 5'9", 190lbs, of average athletic ability. These were energetic 21 year old, collge boys from the suburbs, all 5'10" to 6'00" each wieghing between165 to 200lbs. Three on one, with another down, but not out. I had sunken into a low center of gravity stance and squared my shoulders towards the one  who had just asked the question. They remained standing high with locked knees, flat footed, centerlines open. A split second analysis, no obvious weapon bulges. I had no need to draw mine.

With my years of Pekiti Tirsia Kali, a so-called "phone booth style," I knew what I had to do to defeat multiple opponents, not multiple-attackers, as regardless of who throws first, I am always the attacker. Even though it was 4 on 1, I felt like I outnumbered them.

My response was a steely, "Yeah, you boys are soft." Too which guy #2 responeded, "We're soft?" I said, "Yeah, let me show you." And I sidestepped, hitting him in the jaw with a right elbow, followed by a back hand wrist hach, left elbow, right elbow. Down he went. Sidestepped hit guy #3 with a backhand hack to the neck, and down he went, followed by a small right 45 degree step and a left and right elbow to the head of #4 who also hit the floor. Drunk instigator, guy #1, pants solied, now belted, stood back up only to met my sidestep and palm thrut to the nose. Back he fell into the stall.

As the last hit landend, a hipster who resembeled a tall Sam Kineson walked in. I used takeoff footwork, ranging left 135 degrees, floating across the floor like a vampire. "Sorry for the mess," I said in my best Han Solo impersonation and walked out the door. I did not stay for another drink, but walked to my office and callled the Ivory Coast.

As I was dialing I cursed myself. "Damn!" I just remembered, I had forgotten to wash my hands.

Winning With Footwork (PTK Testimonial #1)

It was an unusually warm winter's day in Buffalo a couple of years back. It was after midnight and I was feeling quite amiable after a late night steak dinner and a couple of glasses of scotch. I walked out the backdoor through the kitchen to the parking lot, where I was attacked by some crazy guy, weighing over 200lbs.

I was surprised, as he ran straight at me for a few paces, wildly swinging furious overhead, right and left handed windmill punches. I had no time to think about my training, I just reacted ranging out left 135 degrees for about three paces, while I parried his punches. Thanks to my ranging footwork none of the dozen shots landed. His burst of energy spent, I countered with a running attack on the right triangle, right 45 degree line for about three paces, as I attacked his guard with empty-handed one's and two's.

My adversary, having not trained footwork, crossed his legs retreating backwards from my counter attack, lost balance, and fell over, striking his head on the ground. I slid pinning his arm with my knee, as his body pinned his other arm to the ground. A quick succession of empty hand slaps to the head finished what he had started.