I Do Not Like Mondays

I once got into a fight, with the whole schoolyard watching. It would set the tone, in a way, for the rest of my life.

I was in maybe fifth grade, making me around nine or 10 years old. Before the school bell rang and classes began, the kids all used to hang out at the playground as they arrived, pursuing their various pursuits.

One of those was playing moon ball, or I think that’s what it was called. Back in the day, we used to just play with a tennis ball or similar. Whoever had the ball would throw it at a wall of the school and it would bounce off, and if someone caught it, the thrower had to run up to the wall and touch it and try to avoid being pegged with the ball.

If the ball bounced off and someone who tried to catch it tried and missed, that person had to run up to the wall and touch it and, yes, try to avoid being pegged with the ball by someone else who picked it up.

There were these older kids who kind of ran the show with the game and made it stressful to play. You didn’t want to get nailed by the ball when one of them threw it! They would bean you and it would hurt.

At the time, I had yet to hit my major growth spurt and I was this small kid. I didn’t mind — I was very fast and felt like a little dynamo. But I wasn’t big like the kids running the moon ball show.

One day, the ring leader of those bigger, hooligan kids threw the ball at the school wall, and I caught it coming off. I threw it at the big guy who had originated the round and happened to hit him — not very hard or anything, but I did get him.

He didn’t like that, and he gathered up all his friends and came to face off with me. A few of my friends stuck with me, then skittered off at the prospect of this group of big kids coming to… beat me up, I suppose. So there I stood, with the big kids gathering in front of me and everyone else on the playground gathering around to watch he inevitable fight that was brewing.

The ring leader guy stepped forward up to me, and I refused to move or run away. I just stayed put, kind of spreading out my stance and bracing for what was to come. I had no hope of taking this big kid out, and I was pretty scared, but held my ground.

He stepped up to me, very threatening, and pushed me hard in the chest with both of his hands, I guess to kick things off. I took it and didn’t budge, trying my best to stay balanced and hold my ground, knowing that everyone was watching.

And then something weird happened. The big guy who pushed me got off balance somehow. I looked down, and it seems one of his shoelaces had come undone, and I had been standing on it. When he pushed me, it bounced back off me and onto him, strange as it may sound, and he threw himself off kilter.

The kid teetered and started waving his hands around and around to try to regain his balance. It didn’t work. He just got more and more off balance, and finally fell over backwards! He managed to hurt himself a bit when he crashed down, against all odds.

The whole schoolyard erupted into uproarious laughter. The big kid was not only hurt but very embarrassed, and even his own friends were cracking up at him. In the heat and speed of the moment, I don’t think he knew what had hit him, and it may have seemed like I pushed him back, when I did nothing of the sort.

The school bell rang just then, and we all went inside. Everyone treated me like some kind of champ and cheered me on, while I’m sure my opponent got quite ridiculed for the whole episode.

From that day on, no one ever bothered me or messed with me again. It was like my David and Goliath moment, and it would stick with me throughout my grade school years.

Everyone might have taken something else from the event that had happened that day, but I myself knew what had happened and knew it was just dumb luck, rather than anything I had actually done.

And as I had been up to that point, I was and would remain a diplomat — even to this day. I’ve never been in an actual fight, and instead have always managed to avoid fighting and diffuse escalating situations. And I hope it always stays that way.

Peace.

Content © Aaron G. Marsh

Lead image by Brandon Nickerson, Pexels