Probably harkening to the bar fights he'd been in as a Marine, Coach Phillips lowered his head and rushed Rot.
Perfect.
Rot brushed aside the coach's outstretched arms, grasped the bigger man's t-shirt, and stepped through with a hip throw.
Coach Phillips had enough momentum to fly about eight feet before landing while Rot claimed the spot the coach had led from.
"Ooooh. That is so cool." Clearly Taylor felt allegiance to the dominant male and suddenly neither Luke nor Coach Phillips seemed able to fill that role. Rot didn't think that was a particularly healthy attitude. This, he decided, was probably not the time to worry about that.
Coach Phillips rolled to his feet and slapped his oversized biceps. "Fancy commie bullshit tricks. Guess I'll have to show you how Americans fight."
"Actually," Rot said, "That was a Japanese throw. Although Kung Fu has--"
"You think I care what slant-eyes you worship?" Coach Phillips tightened fists into balls that would have made Popeye proud and stalked toward Rot. "Now, you learn what happens to punks who want to sell out the American way."
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