This is what it’s about and this is what WE
ARE missing
By Jim Morando
While my older brother Greg was at the bus stop he kept the urges of our block’s bully in check. That changed the following year when Greg left for junior high, leaving my younger brother Gary in first grade and me in third. We were late bloomers, and our combined weight was actually less than our 100-pound nemesis. Less than a week into the new school year the unchecked 6th-grade bully went from shoving us around to giving Gary a black eye and me a split lip.
My older brother Greg thought we had done it to each other, but when we told him what happened he hatched a plan. While it would have been easier for him to simply punch the bully in the mouth, that would just make him a bully and my father was very clear that he did not want us to go that route.
Taking all this into consideration, the plan was simple: We would walk up to the bus stop and Gary would go in low and hold onto the bully’s ankles for dear life while I pushed him over and punched him in the head.
But during our practice sessions, it was determined that I did not have the strength to inflict enough damage to prevent us both from being pounded into submission again, so we decided to enlist the support of an old Fred Flintstone metal lunchbox. My older brother made a cardboard mock-up of the lunchbox and we practiced for the better part of the weekend in the basement. By Sunday night Gary had learned how to lock down ankles, and I found out how I could get far enough up my brother’s stomach to hit our foe in the head.
In hindsight, our plan was a bit excessive even before we called a last-minute audible and added a Thermos full of water to the lunchbox and taped it shut with several yards of electrical tape. Add a bit of adrenaline, and things could have gone very badly.
The following Monday morning Gary walked right up to the bully, dropped down and wrapped his ankles up a split second before I shoved him over and whacked him in the head with Fred Flintstone. Practice makes perfect, and I thought if one shot was good, two would be better. I was prepared to channel my inner Ralphie and go full Christmas Story on him, but just as I was winding up to deliver the second blow my older brother grabbed my arm and pulled me off.
Greg had been watching from a row of evergreens near the bus stop, and when he saw the fight go out of the bully with the first shot he stepped in to stop any further hostilities. Gary slowly released the downed bully’s legs, and for a moment it was touch and go as to whether or not the bully would get up. But the bully left for home, a bit unsteady on his feet.
Shortly after arriving at school my brother and I were called to the principal’s office and suspended. Our mom was called to come get us, but it was our father who arrived at school. He never came home from work so we were terrified. He spoke to the principal about the particulars and was quiet on the way to the jr. high. We had inadvertently ratted out my older brother when we were questioned by the principal, so my older brother also earned a three-day suspension. Once we were all in the truck my father simply said, “Next time, skip the lunchbox” and dropped us off at home.
The bully never returned to the bus stop, and his mom drove him to school the rest of the year. Every time he went by my brother and I would do our version of a victory dance.
Indeed, I have the best brothers in the world who taught me at a very early age the importance of having a plan and practicing it enough to deliver the desired result.
*Jim Morando is the owner of African Sporting Creations, a retailer of custom-like sporting goods for discriminating sportsmen. He’s also a helluva dude. –The Eds
Sent from my iPhone using Tapatalk Pro
ARE missing
By Jim Morando
While my older brother Greg was at the bus stop he kept the urges of our block’s bully in check. That changed the following year when Greg left for junior high, leaving my younger brother Gary in first grade and me in third. We were late bloomers, and our combined weight was actually less than our 100-pound nemesis. Less than a week into the new school year the unchecked 6th-grade bully went from shoving us around to giving Gary a black eye and me a split lip.
My older brother Greg thought we had done it to each other, but when we told him what happened he hatched a plan. While it would have been easier for him to simply punch the bully in the mouth, that would just make him a bully and my father was very clear that he did not want us to go that route.
Taking all this into consideration, the plan was simple: We would walk up to the bus stop and Gary would go in low and hold onto the bully’s ankles for dear life while I pushed him over and punched him in the head.
But during our practice sessions, it was determined that I did not have the strength to inflict enough damage to prevent us both from being pounded into submission again, so we decided to enlist the support of an old Fred Flintstone metal lunchbox. My older brother made a cardboard mock-up of the lunchbox and we practiced for the better part of the weekend in the basement. By Sunday night Gary had learned how to lock down ankles, and I found out how I could get far enough up my brother’s stomach to hit our foe in the head.
In hindsight, our plan was a bit excessive even before we called a last-minute audible and added a Thermos full of water to the lunchbox and taped it shut with several yards of electrical tape. Add a bit of adrenaline, and things could have gone very badly.
The following Monday morning Gary walked right up to the bully, dropped down and wrapped his ankles up a split second before I shoved him over and whacked him in the head with Fred Flintstone. Practice makes perfect, and I thought if one shot was good, two would be better. I was prepared to channel my inner Ralphie and go full Christmas Story on him, but just as I was winding up to deliver the second blow my older brother grabbed my arm and pulled me off.
Greg had been watching from a row of evergreens near the bus stop, and when he saw the fight go out of the bully with the first shot he stepped in to stop any further hostilities. Gary slowly released the downed bully’s legs, and for a moment it was touch and go as to whether or not the bully would get up. But the bully left for home, a bit unsteady on his feet.
Shortly after arriving at school my brother and I were called to the principal’s office and suspended. Our mom was called to come get us, but it was our father who arrived at school. He never came home from work so we were terrified. He spoke to the principal about the particulars and was quiet on the way to the jr. high. We had inadvertently ratted out my older brother when we were questioned by the principal, so my older brother also earned a three-day suspension. Once we were all in the truck my father simply said, “Next time, skip the lunchbox” and dropped us off at home.
The bully never returned to the bus stop, and his mom drove him to school the rest of the year. Every time he went by my brother and I would do our version of a victory dance.
Indeed, I have the best brothers in the world who taught me at a very early age the importance of having a plan and practicing it enough to deliver the desired result.
*Jim Morando is the owner of African Sporting Creations, a retailer of custom-like sporting goods for discriminating sportsmen. He’s also a helluva dude. –The Eds
Sent from my iPhone using Tapatalk Pro
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