Even in junior high school, I never quite understood the psyche of bullies. Bullying simply made no sense to me. If you were a big dude or a tough guy, then why would you try to prove it by picking on some wimp or little fella. That act proved nothing. Anybody could do the same. How about doing 100 pushups at lunch or bench pressing the fattest kid in school at recess to show off your physical prowess? But picking on someone who weighed seventy-five pounds, bothered no one, and wouldn’t harm a kitten…what’s the point, tough guy? Don’t get me wrong, I was no Dudley Do-Right. However, I never terrorized or intimidated another kid or made their school day miserable for the simple reason that I could.
I’m sure most of you would agree that bullies are just cowards, and witnessing one of these brutes receiving a little payback would be quite satisfying to the soul. I witnessed just such an event in high school during my senior year at Redondo High. While having lunch with a few buddies one afternoon, I spotted Brad and his goofball posse approaching the eating area. Brad was a massive varsity football player who delighted in verbally assaulting anyone in his path. He had the distinction of being the most hated and feared student on campus; however, to my knowledge, he had never actually been in a “real” fight. Like most dreaded oppressors, he produced in people the worst type of fear– psychological. We were afraid of who he pretended to be because we had absolutely no true idea of how tough he really was. His sheer size and the fact that he played football proved good enough for all. One of Brad’s favorite targets was Jerome, a large, hefty goofy kid who rarely spoke to anyone. From junior high through high school, I had witnessed all shapes and sizes of kids pick on Jerome. Although he was one of the bigger kids in school, he took whatever harassment anyone dished out without retaliation–physical or verbal. He was basically a human punching bag. I always thought it a little strange since he did not fit the physical profile of someone who guys bullied. Little did I realize, that sunny day as Brad approached Jerome sitting quietly alone on a bench eating his lunch, that I was about to witness one of the most brutal, one-sided pummeling’s in Redondo High history.
When Brad got within a few feet of Jerome, he began his usual verbal mugging. Next the obnoxious swine slapped a carton of milk out of Jerome’s hand. As he stood to leave, Brad’s toady band of groupies chimed in with more personal insults and slurs. It probably would have ended there, much like the hundreds of times before when Brad had brazenly conducted these spectacles. However, as Jerome turned his back to Brad, the football bully couldn’t resist shoving him from behind, sending Jerome sprawling onto the grass. Now others had gathered and began laughing and applauding their approval. In hindsight, I believe as Jerome lay there preparing to get up and walk away, a deeply buried switch clicked in his mind, making the events that were about to unfold utterly uncontrollable. Jerome sprang to his feet and charged the grinning gridiron stud. Before Brad could react, his assailant flung his body on him sending them both to the ground. Jerome pinned Brad’s arms to the ground with his knees and began violently and repeatedly slugging him in the face. Left, right, left, right, left, right, right, right! I’d estimate Jerome landed between twenty and thirty powerful blows to all parts of Brad’s head and face. The stunned bully never threw a punch. As a huffing and puffing Jerome rose to his feet, Brad lay motionless, bleeding profusely from his nose, mouth and head. The crowd had fallen deadly silent at the horrific scene. Jerome calmly walked away, hands bleeding, without ever uttering a word. The debacle lasted less than one minute, but forever changed the dynamics and personalities of these two combatants, and how the student body at Redondo High would forever view them.
As were most of the kids at school, I was thrilled with the outcome of the one-sided thumping. Brad had received the thorough butt-stomping that was long overdue. And Jerome, the former doormat, would never be picked on again. In fact, Brad wasn’t his last victim. Jerome would be involved in many more schoolyard brawls, mostly seeking revenge on those who for years had tormented him. Also, overnight Brad transformed into a pussycat, never to bully again. The humiliation shone brightly on Brad’s formally smug face. Oh, and to the delight of his past victims, Jerome began bullying Brad!
Pete Whalon, author of “The Siagon Zoo” has called Southern California home since age five.
