Free Let’s Get It On! by Big John McCarthy, Bas Rutten Loretta Hunt, Bas Rutten Page A

radio followers, who always picked up the little calls because they wouldn’t require much from them. They did police work with people who would never be a problem. These officers would even write their mothers tickets. They chicken-shitted their way through their jobs.
    The second type were middle-of-the-roaders, who pulled status quo and did just enough to handle their areas. However, they didn’t go looking for what wasn’t right in front of them.
    The third type were big game hunters. These officers didn’t hunt rabbits, which couldn’t hurt them back; they hunted lions. They answered the hardest calls, went looking for bad guys, and put them away. That’s what I wanted to do.
    My training officer, Leonard Mora, and the others on the morning watch were the hunters. It wasn’t a free-for-all, however. They taught me the balance between the letter of the law and the spirit of the law. That the law is an immense power, but it’s there to protect people, not to crush them. That it’s all about dispensing the law in a rational way, with care and compassion. Under Mora’s lead, I found my place within the LAPD and my strengths were utilized.
    As an officer, the more situations you get involved in, the more likely you’ll encounter a suspect trying to get away or fight. The less you do, the less chance use of force will be needed. It’s just basic math and odds. Every time you use what the department considers force, you have to file a report. If you file three in a month or six over a six-month period, the department can counsel you about use of force and even take you off the street if they feel there is a pattern.
    In any profession, some people are more suited to certain tasks than others. I quickly gained a reputation for being willing to roll up my sleeves and get a little dirty. More often than not, I’d be called when others were having trouble controlling the situation. On a public street where a naked, sweaty guy on PCP was swinging a steel pipe, Tasering usually didn’t work well, and we never wanted to use deadly force. A sergeant would just have to point and tell me to take the man into custody.
    I wanted to put bad guys in jail and didn’t mind dropping a few on their heads in the process if I had to. I was getting plenty of on-the-job training for my future profession as a mixed martial arts referee. Lateral drops and other wrestling takedowns worked well. I did as I was told, and it made me a viable part of the force.
    If there was a job for a tunnel rat—a smaller guy who wasn’t particularly physical—I wasn’t the guy to send. But a few guys and I were the first ones sent to the front lines. We were also the first to reach the quota for use of force reports. I didn’t mind, though, because I finally felt like I belonged and was accomplishing something positive.
    I stayed on morning watch with Mora and the others for about six months. They requested to keep me there, which was a good fit for me. I admired Mora so much that when he left the department two years later, I traded in my badge number for his to keep his presence on the street in some small way.
     
    About nine months into probation, on September 28, 1986, I made my next contribution to the world: my son Ron, named after my dad, of course. While I was carefully inspecting Ron’s ten fingers and ten toes, his tiny hand grabbed my little finger. It’s difficult to explain the love I felt in that moment. This little person had just come into my life, but I would have died for him. If a four-year-old had come up and tried to hurt him, I’d have punched the kid in the mouth. That’s the kind of love you have for your child when he’s born. He was the cutest, most perfect thing I’d ever seen.
    I think all guys want their first child to be a boy, even if they won’t admit it. They want to play catch and put them in Little League and take them to karate or wrestling class. They want that boy to protect his sister, who will be born