This is Chuck Zito's version of the notorous incident between Jean-Claude Van Dumb, oops Van Damme and himself on February 5, 1998. For us martial artists who find Van Damme over-rated its a really funny story. If anyone out there is a Van Damme supporter please feel free to post his version of events. Zito, a supporting actor on HBO's OZ, is an ex-con, Hell's Angel's Club Officer, body guard to the stars, and boxer and martial artist. We start the action of page 270 of Chuck's book, Street Justice.
"I first met Jean-Claude in 1992. He'd been a legitimate martial artist at one time, a black belt who had competed successfully in Belgium . . . We were introduced at a beauty pageant sponsored by Hawaiian Tropic. . . . When the week ended Jean Claude asked me if I'd be interested in working as his personal bodyguard and I accepted. But it became apparent to me fairly quickly that our relationship wouldn't last. . . . I just didn't hit it off with him the way I usually did with my clients. . . When you're spending that much time together, you have to develop a certain rapport and I never felt like I had that with Jean-Claude . . . . For one thing I didn't like his demeanor, his attitude. I'd worked with some of the biggest stars in the world and most of them made a concerted effort to put other people at ease. They were comfortable with their celebrity, and they didn't wield it arrogantly. They were nice to the small people who crossed their paths . . . in other words they seemed to realize how lucky they were.
Jean-Claude, on the other hand, acted like the world owed him something. He wasn't gracious. In fact, sometimes he could be downright mean. I was accustomed to working with stars who were considerate of other people. Being with Jean-Claude made me uncomfortable, so, after a few weeks, we parted ways. There was no big scene, no fight, nothing. It was a mutual decision . . .
We ran into each other one night at Scores, an upscale New York strip club where I like to hang out. I was sitting there, eating my steak, minding my own business, when Jean-Claude walked in with Mickey Rourke and a few of his buddies. I figured, Hey life's too short; why hold grudges? So I went over to Jean-Claude, pulled up a chair, and said hello. Right away he copped an attitude.
"Hey . . . Chuck Zi-to," he said, barely making eye contact. Now, I know my last name so it as pretty obvious that he was trying to be an asshole. But I decided to stay away from him. I didn't want or need any trouble. A little while later, though, I was approached by a guy named Frankie, one of the clubs bouncers, who had seen me talking with Jean-Claude. "Hey, Chuck," he said. "Why are you wasting any time with that prick?" [Zito] "What do you mean?" [Frankie] "I just heard him talking about you in the bathroom." [Zito] "what did he say?" [Frankie] "I asked him for an autograph and he told him we had a mutual friend--Chuck Zito. And he started laughing, saying you had no heart, **** like that."
I knew the bouncer and trusted him. There was no way he was lying. So I pulled my chair next to Jean-Claude, looked at the girl wriggling in his lap and said, "Sweetheart, do me a favor. Take your shoes for a walk." She got up and left, leaving me and Jean-Claude sitting just inches apart, staring at each other. We were surrounded by other people, but the music was loud, the place was jumping, and I'm not sure anyone realized we were on the edge of a brawl. "Jean-Claude, were you just talking about me in the bathroom?" He didn'y respond at first. Then he slowly removed his glasses, tucked them into his breast pockt, and leaned even closer; and I thought, why the hell is he taking his glasses off? Unless he wants to fight.
[VD] "Yeah, So what?" [Zito] "You tell Frankie that I had no heart?" [VD] "Uh-huh." I didn't want to disrespect the people who owned the club, and I didn't want to disrespect Mickey, who came in with Jean-Claude. [Mickey is a former Zito bodyguarding client] But I couldn't let this go. In all honesty, I have to say that I was amazed Jean-Claude was being such a jerk. So I gave him one more chance to explain his actions. "Why would you say that?" I asked. He lowered his head. "Because you're full of ****." Shocked I reached out and grabbed him by the arm. The music was blaring and I'd misheard him. "Excuse me, Jean-Claude. Did you say I'm full of ****." [VD] "No . . . I said you're fucking full of ****!"
And with that I hit him--twice. A straight right and a left hook. Bam-bam! [ed: where's pebbles?] Jean-Claude's chair flipped over backward, and he landed in the lap of my friend Kevin Lubic. As Jean-Claude tried to scramble to his feet, I started screaming at him. "You fuckin' scumbag! I got no heart? You got no heart! This ain't the movies asshole; this is the street and I own the fucking street!" I started hitting him with everything I had. Jean-Claude barely evene tried to fight back. He just tried to shield himself. When he covered his head I hit him in the body. When he covered his body I hit him in the face. It went on like that for about thirty seconds, until the bouncers jumped in, Mickey jumped in, and all my buddies jumped in and pulled me off off Jean-Claude. He was tossed out of the club and I left on my own --quickly--before the police arrived. I went straight to the hospital, because even though he hadn't landed a punch, I'd managed to hurt myself. I could my hand throbbing. Sure enough, X rays showed a broken bone."
The book is Chuck Zito with Joe Layden, Street Justice, (St. Martin's Press, New York, 2002), pp. 270-273. Chuck's website is
www.chuckzito.com I recommend the book strongly and look forward to the martial arts tapes which he is planning to release which I suspect will contain a lot of good tips for using boxing in street fights.