Bullied (21 page)

One day in physical education class, the teacher mentioned to us that anyone that wanted to could try out for the football team. I thought that was a great idea because I had never attended a school that had a real football team, or any other sports team other than basketball. If so, I would have tried out for the football and wrestling teams years ago. After signing up for the football team and meeting the coach, I went to practice every day after school. The experience was a revelation in that I had never been through anything this physically demanding. I could see that the exercises I used to do in the basement did seem to help a lot, in terms of my personal strength, but most of the practice exercises for football were new experiences.

The practice sessions, held every day after school, included a lot of running, tackling and blocking the other team. We also practiced a great deal with scrimmages. My position was right guard and I became proficient at blocking someone with power and hitting them as low and hard as I could. I was only 130 lbs. and 5’6” tall so it was a challenge when the player I faced was seven or eight inches taller and outweighed me by fifty pounds. However, I enjoyed it and learned to do this blocking fairly well. This was strenuous and sometimes a little painful, but I was used to pain so it was fun. Since this was a very different experience for me, I really was not good enough to get on the team for any of the games and spent the entire season on the bench. Not making the actual team did not matter because it was an entertaining experience and it made a big difference in my strength, endurance and attitude.

A lot was happening that changed my appearance and attitude from an overweight, angry, cautious and distrusting young person that spent most of his free time hiding in his room or the basement of his home, bathing infrequently and obsessing on various ways to hurt aggressors into, recently, a very quiet, polite and well-mannered person. I began to take showers every day, take care in how I dressed, value my close friends and very seldom, after school started, spend long periods alone or in my room. The guns became just part of my personal stuff and I seldom looked at them anymore. Life changed for this fifteen-year-old boy and was the best it had ever been.

Dean announced one day that the family was planning a trip back to Endicott for a family holiday celebration and that he had some things to do regarding work at the GE plant in Johnson City. It would be necessary for Lauren and I to take a couple of days off from school so we could make the trip before our holiday vacation began. One morning in December, we all got into the station wagon and made the long trip back to Endicott. I had a unique feeling when I arrived back in my hometown. Even though it had only been about four months since I left there in early August, I felt that I was a completely different person, who was beginning to enjoy life for the first time.

The next day, the whole family was in furious activity going shopping and getting ready for Christmas so I decided to take a walk by my old school. As I was walking down Broadway in mid-morning, I felt a little nostalgia walking past the Boys Club, then past St Ambrose School, the Church, and finally arriving at Seton High School on the other side of Washington Boulevard. Today was a school day and I could see that classrooms were full just like any day. Wandering past the front entrance to the school, I arrived at the Gymnasium and saw one of the entrance doors open. Hearing sounds of activity inside, I looked around the corner of the doorway and standing nearby was Father Kennedy.

“Patrick, what are you doing back here, I thought your family moved away”, said Father. Last year, I was in several of Father Kennedy’s religion classes and I liked him and was glad that he remembered me.

“Yes, Father, we did, but we are back for the holidays”, I said.

“Nice to see you, Patrick, do you want to come in and maybe say hello to a few people?” he said.

“Sure, thanks”, I said, walking through the doorway into the gymnasium. Looking toward the activity, I could see many kids from my class last year that I knew. They were throwing a football around. Football, in the gym, I thought. Oh, yes, they do not have a real football team or football field at Seton High so they just use the gymnasium for PE class and sometimes play touch football.

“Patrick, there is something you could do for me. It is about the locker you used to have here last year. You never emptied your locker or took your padlock off it,” Father Kennedy said.

“I guess I just forgot,” I replied.

“Do you still remember the combination?” he asked.

“Sure, I do, Father,” I replied.

“Ok, would you come with me?” Father asked.

Walking across the court, we entered the hallway to the locker room.

“Was this your locker?” Father asked.

“Yeah, it was. I will open it for you.” After two tries, I finally got the combination right and removed the padlock. Inside the locker, I found some shorts and other stuff I left there. As I was putting the items in the carrying bag that I also left in the locker, I remembered that I really had not forgotten about this locker, but, at the time, I decided to leave the contents there forever rather than make one more trip back here to the school that I hated.

“Thanks, Patrick, I have to go now because it is time to start the Physical Education Class. Do you want to hang around and watch for a while?” He said.

We walked back out into the gymnasium and he started the class while I watched.

Father Kennedy assembled the class into two teams and lined them up in the middle of the court to do football scrimmages. I watched them do this blocking against each other while the quarterback paused to throw a pass to the right or left end. I could see that none of these students had as much practice as I had just accumulated just in the last three months of daily scrimmages. I addition, these people were all dressed in basketball shorts and tee shirts with no shoulder pads or helmets. The blocking looks primitive and not too effective, I thought.

I stood along the sidelines. Since we were in the gym, I was lucky that I had put on sneakers this morning because gym rules required them. The male students in the scrimmages were teenagers my age, quite a few whom I had known my entire life since attending kindergarten. After a few minutes of scrimmaging exercises while Father coached, he paused the scrimmage and said,

“Hey, all of you guys know Patrick standing over there, right?”

Most of the people, nodded, and some waved at me.

“Patrick has moved but he is just back for the holidays. Let’s invite him in for a few scrimmages with us, Ok?” he said to the class.

“Patrick come on over here and join us,” he said.

Surprised but grateful for the recognition, I took off my jacket and walked up to join the group.

“Here, Patrick, you can play right guard. Take your position just to the right of the quarterback,” he said as he positioned me at that spot.

I could not believe that, after three months of practice as a right guard on a real football team, without anyone knowing, Father Kennedy would ask me to play right guard.

“Ok, Patrick, you take your position right here and you are going to block the left guard from the other team. You know Donald, don’t you?” Father said.

Did I know Donald! He was the same person that was at the top of the Elite group who had, for years, routinely punched, shoved, pushed me, and called me names. He also encouraged all his friends to do the same. Now, he is clad in shorts, tee shirt and sneakers across from me as a left guard. There must be a God, after all, I thought.

I crouched down with my right knuckles on the gym floor, in what was my normal position as right guard, and looked at Donald across from me.

Donald was much taller than I was and easily outweighed me by thirty pounds. He took his position and he crouched low but not, as I knew, low enough. He had that same snotty, self-assured look on his face. “Hello Fag, I am going to hurt you,” he whispered softly.

I thought a lot in those few seconds during the count. Yes, the nicest thing to do is just be polite and give him a soft block like everyone else was doing in this wimpy football scrimmage. Just before the final count, Donald said, “Queer”, and sneered. That was all I needed.

“Hike”, called the quarterback.

With every muscle in my body, I blocked Donald in the lower chest with my shoulder and then brought my two hands up rapidly from the blocking position to collide with his chin. He fell backwards and sprawled to my left, sitting flat on his butt with his two legs spread, with a shocked and pained expression on his face. Knowing Father Kennedy was behind me and to my right, I knew he could not have seen the elbow to the jaw but I immediately said,

“Gee, I’m sorry, Donald. Here, take my hand”, while offering him my right hand to help him stand up. Donald would not take my hand but got up by himself then started to walk toward me, now with tears in his eyes and his fists clenched. I stood my ground, tightened my chest, stomach muscles and had both hands into fists at my sides. One more step and I will be able to reach him if I move forward too, I thought.

Father Kennedy was immediately between us and said,

“Calm down, Donald, it’s just football. He did not mean anything by it,” he said.

I stood there smiling politely as Father moved Donald away from the scrimmage.

“Got to go, Father, thanks,” I said, walking away. Some of the other kids that had known me previously smiled broadly, especially little Bernie who was one of Donald’s groupies. This is the greatest thing that could happen, I thought. Someone up there is watching over me.

Elated, I picked up my old gym bag, walked out the door, and began the five-block trip home. Today was truly a great day. No matter what else happens, this event alone made the entire trip worthwhile. Surprising as it was, the rest of the holiday celebrations went easily and without any vicious events. I made sure, when Ernie and Elaine were around, especially, to be around Dean as his common sense manner made it impossible for me to believe that he would ever condone Elaine and Ernie’s normal brutal treatment of Lauren and me.

I heard later that after that scrimmage incident in the gymnasium, Donald was so upset that he complained to his parents who also complained to the school that, since I was no longer attending Seton High, no one should allow me to participate in the scrimmage. Just think, this person has been hitting and tormenting me for about ten years but he goes crying to his parents over one single scrimmage when he gets his ass kicked. Yes, bullies are definitely wimps and cowards in disguise.

Before I knew it, the holidays were over, we made the eight-hour trip back to our home in Massachusetts and I was back in my new life. In the week or so that we spent in my hometown, I found that I did not miss anybody or anything except of course, my Grandparents, Lawrence and Nell. It is wonderful to be back in a non-violent atmosphere where I can just enjoy being a teenager.

Several weeks later

One day, walking the three blocks home from school, I passed a house where two brothers were throwing a football around in the front yard. The biggest one of the two yelled at me and said, “Hey, who are you?” I was polite and stopped to talk but soon I could tell that the bigger person, who was about my age, was trying to make me afraid of him. I knew that I had a lot more experience with this than he had, and he was really not that much bigger than I was. I was polite until we got into a shoving match and I knew that this was his way of testing me. I was certain that it was not going to turn into a real fight. I used one of my tripping tricks to knock him down and then simply walked away rapidly.

I had asked myself the question do I have to fight? The answer was an easy no. This person was not that much taller than I but he was quite a bit heavier. Still, I did not feel very threatened because he was nowhere near the size of the people that I was used to dealing with. This was just a “scuffle”, and it just did not rise to the level of a real fight.

A few weeks later, I was playing ice hockey with a few others on a frozen pond in the neighborhood. We had just finished our game and I was taking off my skates and putting my shoes on when the same two brothers came over to me. The big one called me some names and tried to push me. Unknown to me at the time, a third older brother, in his twenties, was also there with them, sitting on a bench. My antagonist, this medium sized bully, did not have much experience at fighting because he and his little brother still had their skates on and I did not. That fact alone should have given them reason for caution. After the big person shoved me, I used my leg to trip him again and then, when he persisted, a hip toss I learned from my jujitsu books and threw him on the ice. Next, I tripped his little brother, and, just for fun, put the little brother on top of his bigger brother. After that, I laughed and started to walk away when the aggressive kid rushed to take his skates off, put on his shoes and came running after me.

Seeing him coming, I asked myself, “Do I have to fight?” This time, because he was obviously very mad and had his fists clenched I knew the answer had to be yes. Therefore, with a plan in mind and my feet solidly planted on the snow-covered grass, I simply stood there with my fists clenched and waited for him. All of a sudden, the older brother yelled, “Don't do that! Stop, and come back here”. The bully looked back to his older brother and said, “Why”? “Come back here”, said the older brother. I was certain that he could see that I was an experienced fighter and that his brother was going to lose. As the bully reluctantly walked back to his older brother, I said," Fine”, turned around and went home. Unknown to me at the time, this was the closest I would come to a real fight during the time I lived in that small town in Massachusetts.

A few days later, I turned 16 in January and got my first real job at the new First National Grocery Store that was just opening. Just as I had done with my paper route, I showed up on my birthday because that was the first day I could apply. Because it was a mile or so from my house and both my Stepfather and Mom were working, they lent me the money to buy a used car. My first car was a ten-year-old, blue-and-white Plymouth coupe. I loved that car and it became my transportation to and from school and work. Having a car also enabled me to begin dating some local girls. I was finally a normal high school kid and I was enjoying every minute of it.