The Gauntlet: The Fun of Controlled Violence

Essay by boyonthedockUniversity, Bachelor'sA+, December 2007

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Raymond Schmit


Creative non-fiction

The Gauntlet

"Stand up and fight! And I'll stand up with you!"

It's always a tough decision for me. Should I put on the Chucks or the Doc's? Both classics, and both functional. You won't lose either in the pit, with the copious amounts of holes in each. Doc Martens will bust heads, but Chuck Taylor's won't tire me down. I begin to lace up the Chucks. I put on my studded belt, and slip into my old army jacket I covered in patches. On my right wrist I wear a sweat band with a red skull and crossbones, and on my left a quarter inch spiked bracelet. My jeans are torn and safety pinned together. I wear a faded Bad Religion T-shirt and a steel ball baring necklace. I feel excited. I feel jittery. I feel mean.

"LET'S Go MUR-phys! LET'S go MUR-phys!" We scream and clap.

Travis, Joe, Jordan, and Beran have all come at my behest. We've been looking forward to this concert for weeks, and played nothing but Dropkick Murphy's songs on our radio show before we left. The ride to the Congress Theatre was filled with sing-a-longs in the classic Dropkick Murphy fashion. My whole body is literally shaking with anticipation. This always happens to me. I just can't wait for it to begin. I bounce up and down like a kid waiting for the bus on his first day of school. I can't control my hand, it just keeps clenching and unclenching between shaking violently. Then the bagpipes begin to play, and all hell breaks loose.

I've heard people talk about being afraid of mosh pits. That they could never go inside them. Afraid of being hurt, of being trampled. Being punched in the face. I never once remember...