This isn’t the first time Urijah Faber has told the story of the night he was almost killed by an angry Indonesian mob, but it’s the kind of tale that we never tire of hearing. At first you find yourself feeling bad for Urijah, who’s just trying to dance with some girls and ends up getting hit in the head with brass knuckles, which we didn’t even know existed outside of old-timey cartoons and pro wrestling matches.
But then, once you start to think about it, your sympathies almost can’t help but lie with the angry mob. They must have looked at Faber, a 5’6" American kid with long, girlish locks who had just hurt their friend and thought, ‘Well here’s a slam dunk.’ Then he starts dropping people on the pavement and elbowing people in the face and suddenly the reputation of your nation’s bloodthirsty mobs is in jeopardy. Of course they picked up hammers and bottles and rocks. You let that guy get home and start telling this story to the world, pretty soon no one is going to take an Indonesian mob seriously. Once you’ve lost that, what have you got?