Common sense, man!
Dude! Don't do it unless you've been trained as a boxer, or you're gonna get your ass kicked. It looks like we both wrestled, so you know as well as I do that in wrestling it doesn't matter how hard core you are, it doesn't matter how big you are, the guy with the skill is going to win the match. It's the same with boxing: In a fair fight the guy who's been trained as a boxer is going to win. The difference between wrestling and boxing is that in wrestling the object isn't to win by knocking the teeth out of the other guy's skull.
I'll share with you a true story to illustrate this point. This is worth reading... it's pretty funny.
My uncle was a bad ass Green Beret, volunteered for three tours of duty in Viet Nam, and came home with some insane number of Silver Stars and Bronze Stars. I don't know how many exactly, all I remember is being a kid and walking down a hallway in his house that had framed certificate after framed certificate with the words "Silver Star" and "Bronze Star" written on them. There had to be at least eight of them there.
His dad (my grandfather) never served in the military, but in his youth he won the Gold Gloves award for amateur boxing. He was 5'6" tall, weighed probably 130 pounds, but had been a steelworker all his life. When my uncle got back from Viet Nam, he decided that being a hard ass veteran he could finally beat the **** out of my grandfather in a fight. Remember that at this time my uncle is about 27 years old, and my grandfather (who married very late in life) is about 65 years old.
So here's the scene: It's about 1967. My dad, my grandma, my grandpa, and my uncle are in the kitchen. My uncle starts egging on my grandpa to fight him, right then and there. My grandpa is like, no no, shut the hell up, you're bothering me. My uncle doesn't let up, taunting my grandpa, but still not getting a reaction from him. So my uncle ups the ante and starts punching my grandpa on the upper arm, and now my grandpa is getting pretty annoyed. Accidentally, as the story is told, my uncle misses landing one of these punches on the upper arm and knocks my grandpa in the jaw.
I'm guessing the last thing my uncle heard that night was my grandpa saying, "Goddamn it, that's it!" My grandpa lets loose one punch and sends my uncle flying across the kitchen. My grandma starts screaming, and I'm guessing my dad was pretty amused, judging by the way he tells the story. My uncle recovers and attempts to get in a few punches, but there's not much he can do before grandpa lands a few more on him. My uncle, having a few seconds before unfortunately been positioned at the top of the stairs to the basement, now finds himself knocked down those same stairs, a$$ over elbows, and making a difficult landing at the bottom. Meanwhile, grandma is still screaming, "Stop it oh God stop it!", and I'm guessing my dad is probably laughing by now. My grandpa, who was not a guy to piss off, walks down the stairs to my uncle, who just doesn't know when to give up. After a few more quick punches, my uncle has returned to the basement floor, where he was now in a state of semiconsciousness. Grandpa walks back up the steps to the kitchen and returns to whatever he was doing.
Two morals from this true story:
1. Don't fight a boxer if you haven't been trained to do it.
2. Don't fukk with my grandpa.
