Jesse Ventura versus Tommy Batboy

by

Tommy Batboy

For those who have served in the military, you will absolutely get why this story is a completely acceptable way to interact. For those civilians out there, please understand that it if there was a Ranger, a SEAL, a PJ, an SF guy and a MARSOC Marine in a bar and someone messed with one of them, the other four would have his back to the death. That being said, it is a given that unless such a situation arises, these same men will talk nonstop shit about who is the toughest, smartest, most effective, has the largest genitalia, etc. So without further explanation, I will tell my tale of me versus Jesse the Body Ventura.

Some vets might fight it out in the Veteran’s Home when they are geriatric and borderline senile – Yelling at each other about who had a harder job during D-day, the Rangers assaulting the beach or the frogmen blowing obstacles out of the water to clear a path. Some will fight it out in the hometown bar arguing over bottles of Bud or shots of Jack Daniels while comparing SEAL and Ranger tactics in Vietnam. The more technologically advanced argue using online message boards with clever little handles like Rgrdngr or Seal Team Tim. I decided to take my Ranger pedigree and fight it out with the most famous former Navy SEAL of them all, Jessie “The Body” Ventura, in a full lecture hall at the University of Illinois my freshman year.

Despite the professorship at Harvard and his old job as the Governor of Minnesota, the Former WWF character had gotten the best of The Body. He’d had his hair and beard cut to resemble Johnny Depp’s character Jack Sparrow from “The Pirates of the Caribbean.” He also decided to channel Keith Richards with a little bit of eye make up and a bandanna in his hair. As he walks up on stage for the speech the crowd gasped at his new do, I started laughing.

To complete his “I’m not really a politician” look ole’ Blaine was wearing a Navy SEAL t-shirt, jeans, was chewing on a cigar that he talked around his whole speech, and had a shit-eating grin on his face as he surveyed the mostly shocked audience members. Most people were expecting an intellectual in a suit or at least a decent pair of khakis; they got an intellectual who looked like he was ready to get into a fight at a biker bar. He had no notes for his speech, talked straight, swore a few times, and was generally as close to being as politically incorrect as the former Governor of Minnesota could be.

I attended this little pearl of learning with my boys War and Diplomacy. Diplomacy worked at United States Army Special Operations Command doing support stuff before he came to the University of Illinois. War was in 3rd Ranger Battalion when I was in 2nd. The speech was interesting but the Q&A session, however, was where the fun started. Gov. Ventura opened it up for questions by announcing: “You can ask me about anything, being the Governor, wrestling, being a SEAL, Predator, anything goes.” You really shouldn’t tell someone like me that. ‘Anything’ is an awfully big word.

Grinning like Cheshire cats and communicating telepathically the boys and I decided to screw with the former pro wrestler in the way we knew would most effectively exasperate the SEAL/ Ranger rift, talk shit. As we waited in line behind the microphone we got irritated quickly. The moron college kids who thought this evening was about 3rd party politics asked their typical brand of stupid questions, thereby annoying the hell out of anyone in the room over 23, including (or so it seemed to me anyway) The Body himself. And let’s not talk about the kid who asked if it was actually feasible to carry a mini gun around like in Predator. At last the three of us stood at the mic and the moderator announced that our question would be the last one of the evening. There was a reception that needs to take place for our illustrious guest SEAL. The boys and I had other plans for his night. Being the ever-present loud mouth of the group I did the talking.

“My name’s Tom, this is Diplomacy and War and we were wondering Jessie, can you balance that big red ball on your nose as well as the SEALS we’ve met can?” Not missing a beat War and Diplomacy jumped into action.

‘Owr, Owr, Owr,” they yelled into the mic, making seal noises and clapping their arms together like they were flippers.

The crowd collectively gasped in horror. Apparently they didn’t appreciate Spec Ops humor the way we did.

The Body, on the other hand, chewed furiously on his cigar for minute and then got this huge grin on his face. “What did you guys do?”

I pointed to War: “We were Rangers.” I pointed to Diplomacy “He worked at USASOC.”

The Body smiled again “Make it through BUDS, then I’ll be impressed.”

“So you can balance the big red ball, huh? That’s cool.” I said in a rather unimpressed tone. Jessie’s face turned sullen. The crowd, finally over their initial case of stage fright, started to laugh.

Rangers 1 SEALS 0

I then asked a BS question about the war on terror and after answering it the former pro wrestler turned governor announced he was going to sign autographs at the front of the stage before his reception. Diplomacy, being even more of a cheese dick than I am, wanted to get his recently bought copy of Predator signed. I didn’t feel like The Body had sufficiently answered the question, so we all walked down to the front of the stage along with a couple dozen other students.

Problems started for the old SEAL even before I had a chance to open my mouth. His sharpie ran out of ink after the first autograph he signed. Diplomacy, and every other kid at the front, didn’t think to bring one. I, always remembering the lesson of ‘it is better to have and not need, than need and not have,’ had brought a Sharpie just in case.

“That a way to be prepared, Gov.” I told my new SEAL pal as I handed him my pen.

“Hey it ran out, not my fault.”

“Spoken like a typical SEAL, at least in my experiences.” I retorted. Jessie stared at me with his lips quivering like a fish’s does. You could see it in his eyes that he wanted to say something, but he had nothing. At least he didn’t try and pass the buck and just took it.

Rangers 2 SEALS 0, let the Army/Navy pissing contest begin. 

Wasting no time War and I tag teamed The Body on the superiority of the 75th Ranger Regiment and its culture, only to have him counterpoint quickly in favor of his beloved SEALS. BUDS is longer so thereby harder, Ranger school is 62 days worth of hell week, which is really the only hard part of BUDS. Rangers are too young, SEALS care more about what they look like than how they shoot. SEALS are more versatile. Maybe, but Rangers are much better at what they do. It went on like this for over an hour. War or I preaching the glory of the Ranger Regiment and The Body firing back in an attempt to keep Navy SEAL honor. The Body had completely blown off his reception, much to the chagrin of the pimply faced kid trying to get him to it, and every other student that was standing around waiting to talk to him had long since been forgotten about. He was locked into his mission of verbally sparring with War and I. Then, with a sly grin, he pulled his ace from the hole it’d been hiding in.

“Well you’re nothing if you don’t have your ink,” he smirked, pulling down his shirt to show the famous emblem that all SEALS wear on their uniforms, the Budweiser, tattooed on his chest. Right were it’d been sewn on to his now three sizes too small uniforms. I started laughing. To bad for the most famous SEAL in the world, his powers of observation weren’t great that night.

“Ink? What like this?” I asked as I pulled up my right shirtsleeve revealing my tattoo, with its rather large 2nd Ranger Battalion scroll prominently featured at the center of it. The one that had been poking out from under my shirtsleeve all night. If you have been in the Army you know that you wear the patch of the unit you went to war with on your right shoulder. The Body got it too. As bad luck would have it for the illustrious Squid I do, in fact, “have my ink.”

The Body looked at my tattoo and started chewing furiously on his now nub of a cigar, his smirk of triumph replaced by a look of frustration and annoyance. Shortly after his ink gaffe Jessie turned the conversation back to third party politics, effectively ending the debate. I don’t think he made it to the reception either.

Game. Set. Match. Rangers. 

Copyright of Tommy