You gotta figure he's a southpaw, so the standard rules for fighting a southpaw apply. Step to your left, keeping your lead left foot outside of his right foot, moving away from his power hand. Forget about your jab and instead throw the right as much as possible.
(This is good advice for just about any time, regardless of where you are, and whether or not you're even fighting. You should CONSTANTLY be pumping a hard right hand punch into the air around you, as you're going about your day. At unexpected times, and with NO WARNING WHATSOEVER. A) for practice and B) to make sure it's working properly.
Sound crazy? Well, tell me this, would you get into your car before dropping to the ground and belly-crawling under it to see that the brakeline hasn't been cut and is still functioning? No, of course you wouldn't. Let's not be ridiculous. Well, this is the exact same thing.)
Now, what else does the name Lefty tell us?
Well, for starters, he's led such an uneventful, undistinguished life of middle-of-the-road averageness, that the fact that he was one of the 60 million left-handed people on the planet, was somehow enough of a unique characteristic to brand him Lefty for his entire life. Think about that. That's what he did. HE WAS BORN LEFT-HANDED... and then sometime later, another - no doubt more accomplished - person noticed, and then dubbed him Lefty... Guys nicknamed "Red" pity him. At least they had to grow hair.
Although... a second, more challenging possibility is that just the opposite happened. He was a stud. The best of the best who excelled in numerous areas. All in an attempt to re-brand himself in the eyes of his parents who insisted on continuing to call him Lefty, after they fell in love with the nickname at an early age. He thrived in many areas... but sadly, all his parents ever saw was a guy whose hand looked weird when he was writing.
Number one at baseball!
Slugger?
No, Lefty.
Number one at the gun range!
Shooter?
No, Lefty.
Number one in Kung Fu!
Some asian word?
No, Lefty.
Despite his best efforts to shake it, the rage at carrying this half-assed moniker around year after year could have crafted a tenacious foe who will not go away easily. Whichever category he falls under, you’ll need to break him mentally, to beat him.
Sidle up to him in a rowdy, crowded bar (the Double Deuce?) while wearing a large, red, clown wig. Shrug while exhaling in an everyman's “I hear that, brother,” way. Introduce yourself... as "Red." Then tell him your tale of woe, which will involve people calling you Red regardless of all that you accomplished, or strove to accomplish in life... He will sense in you an ally, and a confidant... Possibly even a kindred spirit. His guard will lower slightly, like a car window to a shifty-looking panhandler, though instead of barking a harsh “Move it along, deadbeat!” his guard will be intrigued...
After he buys you beer number six, when he’s good and soused, and totally trusting of his new best pal, turn to him suddenly and conk him on the side of the head with the palm of your hand. When he tries to ask you what you’re doing, conk him again. Conk him until he starts fighting back... I'm sorry, this is the right technique, but I have to admit, "conk" is just a fun word to say.
During this fight, you're going to set off a domino effect of insecurity and doubt within Lefty, that will render him an impotent, quivering mass of humanity... This is how.
At some point during the melee, your wig will fall off. This is a failing of the clown wig manufacturers: their wigs are just not made to stand up to a pounding. I guess clowns are pretty smug and confident in the feeling that most people won’t attack them; this will be to your advantage.
As the wig tumbles off your noggin, Lefty’s heart will drop like a stone. He'll realize he’s been had. But good.
Lefty- "Why, Red? Why did you lie to me?"
You- "Oh, I have lied, Lefty.... But the lie count is at two... Not one."
Lefty- "WHAT???"
You- "You see... my name's not Red."
Lefty- "Whyyyy!?"
The waitress places a glass of milk in front of you.
Lefty- "What about your lactose intolerance!? Another lie? "
You- (dead-eyed stare, as you drink the milk)
That sound you hear is the fight going out of ol' Lefty. Finish your food... and then finish him.
The coroner's report will read "subdural hematoma"... but you and I know Lefty died of a broken heart.
Broken from punching.
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