Your one uncle, the one with the knee that sounds like it’s filled with Rice Krispies, claims he would have “walked it off and kept fighting” after a brutal MMA knockout.

The fight he’s referring to? A heavyweight brawl that left one guy unconscious and the other with a broken nose. But apparently, in the parallel universe where your uncle resides, not only would he have shrugged it off, he’d also go on to win the championship belt—after grilling up some burgers during the commercial break.

“Back in my day, we didn’t have all this fancy medical mumbo jumbo,” he says, conveniently forgetting that “his day” involved sitting on the couch during most of the Reagan administration. “You didn’t tap out. You didn’t call a timeout. You just walked it off.”

Your uncle’s knee, of course, hasn’t been “walked off” since the ‘80s, yet he remains convinced that if he were in that cage, nothing short of a meteor would stop him. He brings up the one time he fell off the roof fixing a gutter and, rather than go to the ER, simply “toughed it out” for the next six months, during which his limp became a permanent fixture of family gatherings.

When someone politely suggests that maybe professional athletes undergo years of training and conditioning to handle that level of punishment, your uncle brushes it off with a wave of his hand. “They just don’t make ’em like they used to,” he insists, ignoring the fact that he now grunts every time he stands up from his La-Z-Boy.

Sure, Uncle Dave, you’re built different. Just differently fragile.