How the Iron was tempered. Владимир Юрьевич Рябушкин
wish anyone such a presence. You give an inch here or there, the slightest blunder, and everything becomes known to my mother in no time.
I only saw my mother when I was being punished. It was like a consistent pattern: every time if I am kicked out by teacher during class, my mom walks by and catches me.
She was very strict, and everyone was afraid of her, but respected her even more, of course.
My school diary was riddled with misbehavior marks. The scariest thing for me was, of course, my father’s being called to school, but it went fine. Even so, dad knew my situation thoroughly, even though mom often felt sorry for me and protected me, but occasionally I would get beaten with belt or wire.
The wire was more painful, it stung so hard that you could piss in your pants.
So I used to hide all the wires in our home prior to punishment. Dad didn’t beat me very often, and at some happy moment he told me that I am an adult already and that it is not nice to punish me with the belt anymore.
Since then, I’ve been using my self-awareness to control myself and not let my parents down.
It was the authority of my parents that was the main focus of my education.
That’s what started my hardening at school.
I must say that my school wasn’t an ordinary one, it had advanced French classes.
And for some reason, students from other schools considered it to be for milksops and mamma’s boys.
This is why we were regularly visited by uninvited guests from neighboring schools to rob us of our lunch money or simply beat us.
Fights took place almost every day and every break between classes and, as a rule, ended with our side losing.
I can proudly say that it was our class to make it to the turning point in this war. Of course, it didn’t work out by itself and it wasn’t easy.
For a long time, we were showing up with bruises, but we still stopped bullies from neighboring schools from raiding our territory.
I even had to join a boxing class. For a long time, I wasn’t even able to punch my opponent in the face.
But after a while, the problem was solved.
We broke the stereotypes that had developed over the years and made ourselves respected.
I didn’t do boxing for long, but it was enough to knock our guests down a peg and make the school grounds safe.
Naturally, I wasn’t alone, we had a whole squad, and we went out to fight despite being outnumbered by our enemies, which later won their respect.
Well, rumors about me getting into boxing played an important role in that too. I can’t say that we were not afraid.
We were. Sometimes it was white-knuckled panic with our arms and legs trembling. But we’d go out into the street to fight, no matter what.
I want to say that there were other times back then, and the worst thing that could have happen was an unfair fight with several people beating one, and even that was rare.
There was fist-fighting only, no knives of firearms. Which you can’t say about today. All notions of honor got blurred, and you don’t know where and what can hit you.
The times are different, and you don’t have to prove anything to anyone. It’s better to avoid unnecessary conflict.
Here’s a helpful hint: get away before you get cornered, the best weapon available today is running fast.
As I said, I did not do boxing for long, I was prohibited by doctors after a routine medical examination,
But it just so happens that I had to participate in a competition after I quit boxing.
I don’t remember the reason exactly, but my coach told me that I had to stand up for our boxing class, and there is no one else in my weight division.
And I agreed, because I don’t like to let down people I respect. By that time I hadn’t been training for several months, which was very embarrassing for me, and I told the coach about my doubts.
To which he responded: «You’ll get there and hop a bit, winning is not important, it’s the taking part that counts, and the opponent is weak, maybe, you’ll win» His words cheered me up, of course, but it turned out differently.
The opponent turned out to be a well-trained hulk of a guy, and I wasn’t even fit for the fight.
To keep it simple, he beat the crap out of me.
I wasn’t thinking clearly and I remember one moment between rounds.
I’m sitting down, I feel sick, my face hurts, I’m out of strength, out of air, my head is cloudy, and the coach tells me: «Put your hands up, keep your hands up,» and I raise them up in the air, and he tells me: «Not now, put them up during the fight.»
I lost, but the most valuable thing for me was that the coach made an example out of me and told everyone that they’re got to learn courage from me, despite the fact that I looked deplorable.
And after the fight, being all courageous, I was sitting in the shower and throwing up, but throwing up proudly, as a hero should.
Boxing helped me beyond the school years.
The most important thing is that boxing gives you not only the ability to fight and to defend yourself.
Boxing gives you inner confidence and peace of mind, which is felt from a distance and very well felt by the attackers.
That’s why most of conflicts didn’t come to an actual fight.
Army: the school for men
After school I, like everyone else I knew, went to university to become an engineer: this career was deemed prestigious back then.
My father didn’t pull any strings to get me exempted, and after my first year at the university I was drafted.
Of course, I didn’t want to join the army and didn’t understand why I should join.
But here, as in the saying goes, what does not kill you makes you stronger.
I’ve already said that I was a sickly child, I had flat feet, I had some bumps on my knees. Anyway, I was very hopeful that I wouldn’t be enlisted due to my health condition. I underwent a medical examination and all my conditions were confirmed, which gave me even more hope for an exempt.
What a surprise it was to me when I was not just enlisted, but also assigned to the border troops and sent to serve in the Far East on the border with China.
I was shocked, and my whole family as well, except for my dad. I had to leave for 2 years for 9,000 km from home, and I had never been to a youth camp or gone from my parents to my grandmother’s village for more than a week.
The situation was worsened by the fact that at that time the USSR waged a war in Afghanistan. Even our town saw some coffins returning home instead of lads sent to war.
Before going to the transit terminal in Syzran, I got a short haircut, cutting my curls for the first time in my life. They shaved me with a hair clipper in Syzran. And we started waiting for a «buyer», as they called them.
It was interesting to look at the process.
An officer would come out into the middle of the square and shouts out some conscripts’ names.
They would come out, and the officer would take them to the unit. There was a real chance to change your initial assignment by simply not responding to the call.
That’s what many did if the «buyer» was a navy officer (since the service in the navy took 3 years instead of 2).
But then the «buyers» got wiser, and some random officer came out at first, and then, when the group was formed, the real «buyer» revealed himself, and until the last moment you didn’t know where you are going to end up.
In general, I was «bought» by the border guards, packed into an aircraft and sent flying with warning that 90 percent of will