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Normally, I could hit hard enough, as anyone who studied my fights might have known. But the impression was that I was essentially defensive, the very reverse of a killer, the prize fighter who read books, even Shakespeare.

When I was 15, I decided to take up the sport seriously, so I went down to the Y.M.C.A. My first day there, this little Italian guy beat my brains out. I decided to quit. Then I realized I really wanted to be a fighter. I worked at it, went back, and that little Italian guy didn't beat me up no more.

My neighborhood was rough, but I live a great life now. I don't fight that much now. I don't look for it anyway, but if someone hits your mother, whether you're a star, an accountant, or an astronaut or anything... I mean it's your mother, so I lost my mind.

I fought tall fighters, short fighters, strong fighters, slow fighters, sluggers and boxers. It was either learn or get knocked off.

A drunk truck driver ran over me. I was in a Volkswagen. It was horrible. It sounds like a cliche, but anything that doesn't kill you makes you stronger. I give a lot of credit to my dad, who was a very strong guy.

He hit me 18 times while I was in the act of falling.

I wasn't a fighting kid or a causing-trouble kid. I was just one of those cheeky, crazy kids running around.

I was a big fighter when I was younger. In bars I was ready to explode and fight.

I am the world's most appalling martial artist. I am so bad. I've studied jujitsu, kickboxing, t'ai chi. Once, I was sparring with someone, made a mistake, and managed to knock them down. I was so shocked that I dropped to my knees to see if they were all right, and then they knocked me out cold. From the floor.

Though I was not a belligerent kid, I do not think I ever passed up a good opportunity to fight.