The French Fight
by jim moran
It was the year 1995, my friends and teammates were competing in the local World Cup. It was three days until Christmas and everyone was psyched. We all had packed our bags and were leaving at 2:00 a.m. My buddies and I went down to the local bar to slam a few back. We got caught by the Karaoke machine and the next thing you know we were singing, "Walk this way, talk this way." We were doing pretty well and then it happened.
This drunken French kid jumped on stage and was suddenly a part of the show. He came up to me, head butted me and stole the microphone. That's right, he head butted me. I did not like that very much, and I figured he deserved one back. My head butt might have been a bit harder. I broke his nose, and threw him off the stage. The bouncers grabbed him and tossed him out of the bar.
My friend's and I were chillin' and chit chatting when we looked outside and saw him waiting for me. He must have been a bit upset that I broke his nose. He wanted a fight. I was at the bar with about 20 friends and was having fun, so I ignored him. It was a fun night; there wasn't a worry in the world, and we were all going home that night.
When the night came to an end, he was still there. I still had my 20 friends and walked out yelling at the dude. I went up to my coaches Jeff Goode and Wayne Hilderbrant's room to relay the bad news. I said that I did not start it, but that there was a guy down stairs that wanted to fight me. Goodie and Wayno said no problem-we will have someone else bring your bags down and you can get in the bus by walking outside through the other door. Just as we had made the plan, there was a knock at the door. Wayno went to the door and was surprised when he saw the cops.
"Is Jim Moran in here?" they said. "Why?" Wayno asked. "We need him to give use a statement at the Police station," the cop said. Wayno told him that our bus left in 30 minutes. The cop replied, "no it's not."
I had to find a translator that could tell them my story. The lucky man was Olympic gold medallist Jon Luc Brassard from Canada. I trust him, and he had no trouble at all doing it. The bus driver told the coach that he had to leave soon to get to Zurich. Wayno looked at me and said "Jim we can't miss Christmas, we have to leave you here."
The plan was to leave the Arial Coach Chris Haslock with me, and send the rest of the team home if I wasn't ready in 15 minutes. The problem was that this French guy wanted to stab me with a knife. His friends didn't think it'd be cool, so they called the cops. That is why the cops came in Wayno's room to find me.
I hope you've never been to a Police Station. They are the same in France as they are in the U.S., and it takes forever. They finally said I could leave, but my bags were already starting to be removed from the bus. I told the coaches I was out of there, and we put them back on. Getting back on the bus was interesting. The whole team had been waiting for me for two hours. It was my first year on the team, and needless to say, there were not a whole lot of people talking to me. I let things chill for about five minutes, then I made a speech.
"Let me start by saying how sorry I am that you had to wait. I hope that we are not late for any one's flight. I am not sorry for what I did though. I would do the exact same thing if it happened again. Sorry!"