Why i lost my first playground fight
So i’d been moved to a new primary school in a rougher area of a rough town. I’d kept my 7-year-old head down through the first lessons, and walked out into the lunchtime sun to be met by a freckled, ginger boy and his gang of mates.
I don’t remember how it started, but in a flash i was in a fight with all of them. Luckily, they subscribed to the Hollywood version of a scuffle, and stood surrounding me while one by one they attacked. Obviously, most of them had no idea why their freckled leader had ordered the ambush, and retreated swiftly once i punched them clean in the face.
It was like a computer game. The ginger kid – Lee – was the boss level, and as he finally approached and we danced around, we both knew that i would beat him. That is until his 11-year-old mountain of a brother, suprised me from behind, grappling me into a full-nelson.
Lee ran at me, and performed a Liu Kang kick into my stomach, winding me for the first time in my life. I thought i was going to die, as i fell to the floor, gasping for air while the gang dispersed. I did not die though. Just the innocent bits.
I joined the gang, and began inflicting grief of all sorts, because it made sense at the time to be part of a strong group.
Suffice to say, my thoughts have changed in the several years since. In retrospect, the reason i lost my first fight, was not because i cried, or because i fell to the floor, but because i became fearful of defeat, and became a person who hid my fear within the fear of others. With guidance, i would have learned that truth much earlier.
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