Free Personal Narratives: Resolving Arguments on the Playground

Resolving Arguments on the Playground

"If you want the fuckin' ball, come and get it!"

Those enticingly intelligent words from Sean Kelly, a husky sixth grader, brought me my first taste of how arguments get settled on the playground. Actually it was going to be less of a taste and more like four courses and dessert.

I was a small fourth grader, weighing in at a willowy eighty-five pounds. I was also still considered a "new kid." I had arrived in Somerville, Massachusetts just one year prior, coming from Brussels, Belgium. No one was aware of the fire my fists held and the burning rage I possessed, which could be unleashed when commanded. My nickname was "Belgium Boy," somewhat creative but not at all intimidating. So far I had gotten by in the shadow of my friend, and current king bully, Donald. I had held Donald's coat for him as he devoured opponents, cheering him on passionately.

This fight with Sean could potentially bring me into a whole new realm of status. No more "Belgium Boy" for me, maybe a cool name like "D."

My opponent was a full head (both chins included) taller than me and probably still outweighs me to this day. I was as experienced at fighting as Tonto was at giving orders to the Lone Ranger. I grew up with two sisters whose idea of putting up a fight was yelling for Dad or locking the bathroom door. The position I was in now was incomparable due to the fact that my three best friends, along with twenty other onlookers, were watching me. A quick glance around and some sprint thinking left me with my only option.

"Fight," someone yelled.

Perfect! There might as well be flyers handed out and three ropes squared around us. My idea of my first fight didn't involve someone else starting my fight for me by publicly announcing it.

Now what could I do? These kids wanted to see a fight and I either had to give them a show or switch schools.