I was raised by a single mother in England.

I wouldn’t call my mother particularly nice or soft.

Infact - my mother was mean and hard.

I usually saw my dad about once a year when he would visit and I remember one time they had a MASSIVE argument.

THREAD.
I was about 13. Dad had come to visit.

They day before he arrived mum took me to get a haircut at a place I didn’t normally go.

They cut it differently. Mum didn’t like it.

It was the first time I had seen dad in a year.

We were sitting in the living room.
“I don’t like how they cut your hair Andrew”

I was a kid. My mother told me my hair was shit. What else am I gona reply?

Me: me neither.

Mum: yes we won’t go there again

Me: can we go to the normal place next time?

Dad stands up from the couch: WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING?
Dad lost his mind.

What the fuck is wrong with you woman?

YOURE RAISING MY SON TO BE A BITCH? Crying about his haircut?

This is the kinda man you’re raising when I’m not around?

Mum started screaming back calling dad crazy and telling him to leave the house.
My dad was a 0-100 kinda guy. From silence to SCREAMING out of nowhere.

Now mums crying and tells dad to get out the house or she’s calling the police.

Dad leaves. One hour into seeing him first time in a year.
Mum: your dads crazy it’s only a haircut see why I can’t be around your dad anymore.

Next day dad calls the house and tells me to go to the hotel he’s staying at.

I go. We play chess.

“Your mother does the best she can. But she’s still a female” he said.

I didn’t reply.
“Females fucking around with haircuts. You won’t be raised into a little bitch” he said.

We left the hotel and he marched me to a barber shop where he paid to have my head shaved.

I protested. Why? Dunno. Was a kid.

But I feared my dad. As if he was god himself.
I sat In the chair holding back tears as my head was shaved.

Afterwards dad said:

Your mother loves you and I love you.

Nobody in the world gives a fuck about your haircut. When you grow up you’ll see - they only care about what kinda man you are.

I went home. Mum went NUTS.
I heard them on the phone.

Mum: you’re fucking crazy Emory why did you do that it’s only a fucking haircut I don’t want to see you ever again fuck off back to america

And that’s what dad did.

He left England.
My mother complained how crazy dad is and how it’s impossible to even speak around him without him losing his temper and going crazy.

“Forcing Andrew to shave his head” became a story mother would tell of how “insane” my dad was for years to come.

But guess what...
He was totally right.

I look back now and THANK him.

What good comes from a 13 year old boy giving a fuck about his haircut?

ZERO.

My mother’s intentions were pure. But she’s a FEMALE.

This is very normal female behaviour.

Son with his cute haircut. But it’s unimportant.
2 years ago I walked into a new barber shop and they said

“how do you want your hair cut?”

It reminded me of this story.

And I told them to shave it all off.

Nodbody gives a fuck about my hair.

They care what kinda man I am.

RIP Emory Tate.
I was state chess champion aged 6.

https://twitter.com/OfWudan/status/1129800992025919489?s=20

Moved up 3 grades.

Moved to England.

From single mother social housing to 4x kickboxing world champion and multi millionaire.

None of this is coincidence.

I was raised for exceptionalism through HARSH lessons.
The reason I am a better man than you is simple.

I was raised to be better than you.

I have 1000 lessons that rooted my mindset in the coldest of reality.

I am a supreme individual.

I have everything a man could dream of and I got it all MYSELF.
I gaurantee your child gives a fuck about his haircut.

You dont do shit about it.

If you did. Your wife would cry.

Are you man enough to do it anyway and have the argument? - to "leave england" and cement a lesson in your childs mind?

No.

Youre a pussy and your sons a pussy.
Anyone who reads this story and thinks "Its just a haircut" is an average man. Missing the lesson entirely.

And there is no fate worse than living life as an average man.

Exceptionalism is born of perfectionism. Did anyone give a fuck about my hair when I became world champion?
Does anyone give a fuck about my hair when I retired my mother for life. She no longer works. I give her 10k a month to sit around at home.

Do they care when i request 250k in fresh cash notes from the bank?

What about when I entered Mensa with a genius IQ?

NOBODY CARES.
I can snap a bat with naked shin.

Can you?

Can your pussy ass son?

But at least you both have nice haircuts right?

Cowards and losers. You and your offspring.

Fuck you and fuck him.
My father and @RZA throwing down on the chess board.
If you knew what I knew..

If you were as smart as I am..

If you had seen what IVE SEEN.

You would know that the ONLY place a man can be happy is the top 1%.

Anywhere else is torture.

WOMEN can be average - become a mother - be happy.

Average men are NEVER happy. Ever.
In 90% of arguments both people are wrong.

And both people are right.
When I was 8 years old.

A couple of 10 year olds used to bully me on the school bus.

One day I started crying to my dad saying I didn’t want to get the bus.

I told him why.

He sat, drinking whiskey and playing chess at 9am. Didn’t even look at me cry.

He replied...
“Your lunch box is sharp son. Go to school”

I was too afraid to not listen to my father. So I obeyed

He didn’t give sympathy. Didn’t even seem to care. Didn’t show remorse. Didn’t ask the kids names. Nothing.

It was here I realised no one was going to save me. It was up to me
That afternoon on the ride home they started as usual. Pulling my backpack from behind and calling me names.

I sat there and didn’t say anything. Hoping they’d stop.

10min In one slapped me on the side of my face. I remember the sting to this day. And my ear was ringing.
I sat in silence. Stinging face

A few mins later at my stop - I stood and swung my plastic Batman lunchbox as hard as I could

I caught the kid right above his eye. Keith was his name

And like a boxers cut from a prize fight

His eyelid began squirting blood all over the bus
I remember his screams. And the look of pure horror on his friends face.

I sprinted and ran straight off the bus.

The cut was deep. The blood thick. He will be scared for life to this day.

I ran so fast I didn’t notice. That my lunch box had actually shattered.
When I got back I was holding a handle and a piece of shattered plastic. Barely resembling the square it was

My dad was in the same place as was when I left

Lotus position

Still playing himself at chess

He would play himself for hours and hours. Trying to defeat his own mind.
He turned around when I came in and saw the broken lunch box…

He stood up and said.

“Get in the car”.

The ride was silent. He didn’t ask me what happened.

He took me to Walmart and asked me to pick a new one.
I picked the same one I had before.

“I’ll buy you as many of these as you need, son”

We went home. A normal evening.

But I was too scared to sleep.

The next day I sat at the back of the bus.

Ready to swing. To fight. Both of them. Head on.

But the kids didn’t come.
But I never saw those kids again.

Keith never returned to school. His friend stopped taking the bus.

In all my years of school I never had to break another lunch box.

My dad never ever saved me from anything.

He sent me to fight. Alone

RIP Emory Tate
When I was 23, I was the hottest kickboxing prospect in the UK.

National champion - 85% KO ratio - I was invited by WKN to France to discuss signing to their promotion along with Jerome Lebanner.

Dad still lived in the USA but agreed to meet me there to help negotiate.

THREAD
They booked Tristan my dad and me a hotel right on the beach in Deauville France where they were having a fight event.

We arrived and checked in.

We were given meal vouchers for 3 meals a day and told to enjoy the show.

We had food and somewhere to sleep.

And that’s it.
As a kick-boxer, I was just paying the rent

As a world level chess player, my dad would travel America playing by greyhound to play in tournaments and sleep in hotels. Hustle chess in parks for money

Hed bet $500 against $100. Give them 5mins against his 1min

And destroy them
By the time we all got to France. We had a combined pool of 500 bucks.

We went to a place called POINT bar. Minimum spend was 500 dollars to get a table.

We had food and beds but that was ALL our money. So we left for a free meal and dad said to me...
“Well shit son! We ain’t rich enough for this place! Mudafuckin water is 7 euros!”

I looked at the menu. He was right.

This was the first time in my life I saw money. 7 euros for WATER! Everyone around with bottles and bottles.

My mind was legit blown. By fucking Perrier!
Dad said “there’s a casino across the road.

We either get rich or we stay broke. I’m a professional. I can’t do inbetweens”

As we finished dinner we counted up all our money. 450 euro.

Dad left a 10 euro tip with our free meal.

440 in hand. We went to the casino.
Blackjack is a son of a bitch.

Hit hit hit hit 21!

How the dealer does it, nobody knows.

Across 20mins dad played perfect strategy - but the math was against him.

400 euros gone. We had 40 euros left between us when we decided to leave.
The next day we were eating with our meal tickets. Laughing and joking about how one day when I become world champion we won’t be poor anymore.

“Son! Nobody can beat you in a fight but ME! And I kinda like you”

At the end of the meal dad took 10 euros from our 40 and tipped.
I said to dad “is that why you didn’t spend the last 40 euro in the casino? Just to tip for our free meals”

Dad said:

“I ain’t scared of being broke son.

But I’m scared of not having any class”
At the end of the event I signed to WKN, a fight in 6 months time.

We were all FLAT FLAT broke.

We sat around the airport without water. I was flying England. Dad to Switzerland to play chess.

“We tipped our last money away. Because we’re TATES. And we respect hard work”
“A lotta people out here working hard for nothing. They’ll never be rich. Never be anybody.

You’re goddam sure to make it boy.

Most of these people dont stand a chance.

Make people smile when you can”

I agreed. And shook dads hand. Time to go separate ways.
I carry my fathers name.

Emory Andrew Tate. https://twitter.com/OfWudan/status/1121807675879251968
Since he’s gone, all I can do is teach what he taught me. https://twitter.com/OfWudan/status/1118586388239265792
Master Po himself.

I was always adept number one. https://twitter.com/OfWudan/status/1169256510343581696
I never saw him make a mistake.

Ever.

He was also never wrong.

Professional.

RIP Emory Tate.
Such is the way of wudan.
Another story about my dad which I told on my YouTube channel.

Subscribe for exclusive content.
I saw my father maximum 6 times per year from the age of 10 onwards.

Before that he would be home a couple of times a week.

A mother’s is measured in hours logged.

A father in IMPACT made.

Strong men don’t need full time presence to be a “good” dad.

They teach quickly. https://twitter.com/OfWudan/status/1280106780077539329
My dad always used to say “OUTSTANDING IN THE RAIN”

As opposed to simply “outstanding” when he was impressed.

I asked him.

Dad, why the rain?

And he replied

“Son, any jackass can perform when the sun is shining”
Sometimes in life there is simply no room for error.

At 200mph, or with cold steel aimed at your NECK.

There is no realm for "OOPS". No second tries.

As a PROFESSIONAL you must get it PERFECT, FIRST TIME.

Amateurs die.

You need to be THIS good. Go train.
There is simply one way to become an exceptional man.

A professional.

You must go through hell and survive.
“Tate you're a sexist arrogant piece of shit I hope someone stabs you to death cunt”
What do I know that you don’t know?
I am extremely strict with MYSELF

I do not allow myself to be lazy

I do not allow myself to be unprofessional

I DO NOT ALLOW MYSELF TO FAIL

So when I watch YOU

a full grown man

FAIL

in a scenario which I simply WOULD NOT afford myself the luxury

How can I empathise?
Why would I be softer on the fools who believe they’re my equal (they never are) than I am on myself?

If I suffer the constant burden of permanently brilliant performance, why should I forgive sloppy amateurs?
I am supremely capable and competent.

I possess every genetic gift possible from height to IQ.

Coupled with honed talents, extremely hard work has made me strong and rich.

I’ve nurtured and trained every ability to become as brilliant a man as has ever walked the planet
My performance expectation is at a level 99.9% of men simply CAN NOT reach.

So of course, I look insensitive to these men.

When they cry about their problems and failures in situations I would handle with EASE. What am I supposed to think?
Life is a hierarchy. God has favourites.

I am one of them.

You are not.

And when you constantly fail to do things I’ve always managed to do - you will have to accept that I view you as below me.

Why wouldn’t i? https://twitter.com/ofwudan/status/1142878778818998272?s=21
I have survived things that would break you.

Tell me again about your “stress” at “work”

Keep talking and confirming your absolute inferiority. https://twitter.com/OfWudan/status/1114548086305476613
Brilliant 😂

Submit via http://cobratate.com 
When I was young I asked my dad who would win in a fight, him or Bruce Lee.

“He’s small son. I’d snap him”

But dad.. I think Bruce..

*QUIET* dad roared and sipped his whiskey.

“This is a world of MEN.

You are a BOY.

A CHILD.

Nobody gives a fuck what you think”
Thinking back, as with every single story I think back about my dad.

He was right.

Wtf do 5 year olds know about combat.

Be the fuck quiet.
You can follow @OfWudan.
Tip: mention @twtextapp on a Twitter thread with the keyword “unroll” to get a link to it.

Latest Threads Unrolled:

By continuing to use the site, you are consenting to the use of cookies as explained in our Cookie Policy to improve your experience.