From the ashes, an unlikely hero (but, to be clear, not a hero in the true sense of the word)…

We don’t get many chances to be heroes. Now that I’ve said it, let me clarify it. I appreciate that the word hero carries a lot of weight and can come under some fire, kind of like the word bomb in an airport, or the word bully when speaking about interactions amongst children, or the comparison an athlete might mistakenly make of oneself to that of an actual soldier (Kellen Winslow Jr. anyone? And we thought that would be the worst thing he would ever do???). The words can take on substantial impact and power depending on how they are used. So that being said, I also appreciate that there are those that get lots of chances to be heroes, in the true sense of the word, like firefighters, or soldiers, or single mothers, or teachers, or doctors, or nurses. Then of course there is Iron Man and all of his buddies. What I’m saying is that I understand the significance of the word and that the weight of it can vary depending on the situation and the heroic deed. I appreciate that my memory of a heroic moment pales in comparison to the actual meaning of the word.

I think the reason this particular memory that I have is imprinted in my brain is because of the dramatical (honestly didn’t know that was a word but the auto correct has not corrected it) nature in which it plays back in my brain. While I’ve established that this moment is not heroic in the true definition of what would be used to explain a person saving someone from a burning building, let’s face it, thankfully not many of us will be in situations in which there is a building that is in front of us that is actually on fire and in which we are aware in that exact moment that there is another human being inside that building that requires saving (stay golden Ponyboy). I think with all of this now worked out of my brain I’m speaking about a heroic feeling or action, and not actually being a hero.

We’ve all seen a bunch of movies in which the hero is portrayed in this ultimately dramatic way that makes the emotions just ooze out of us. There are a lot of emotion and tears that are shed for Bruce Willis as Harry Stamper in Armageddon,

or Denzel Washington’s very wrong righting John Creasey in Man on Fire,

or everyone standing up in the stadium to cheer on a football player nicknamed Rudy after the final, otherwise absolutely meaningless, plays of a college football game, at least tears were shed by me if no one else.

The point being that in exploring the moment I’ll eventually get to in this entry, in my memory, as dumb as it is, I think it resides as a firework moment because of the drama of it. I guess if you dissect it, it’s really all about emotions and chemicals and all of this other stuff that make these things stick, but when it really comes down to it for this one, it’s the dramatic effect of it that must have a lasting impact, as dumb as it is.

Ultimately I understand that there are true heroes that save people’s lives and give selflessly of themselves for others and that those are amazing events. I also understand that words are words and sometimes we, while knowing that words have numerous meanings, like to box certain words in and say they can mean this one thing but not this other thing. This particular heroic memory is not equivalent to the saving of lives or risking of one’s health and safety for the well being of others, that is clear, or will become clear shortly.

It was a sunny day (actually it might’ve been cloudy, I don’t fucking know) when that life altering (it actually didn’t alter my life in any way) game of dodgeball took place in the seventh grade. The memory that resides with me is of my friend, we’ll call him John, mostly because his name is John, who was much bigger and much more of an athlete than I, helping my dodgeball riddled body up off the gym floor at the conclusion of the match.

Now before I get to that moment let me first provide some background here by explaining the rules of this particular slug fest. I’m not versed in the official rules of dodgeball, but for this particular melee there would be two teams assembled during our class, and on this particular occasion the teacher, we’ll call him Mr. Nagy, again because his name was Mr. Nagy, determined it would be the seventh graders in the class vs. the eighth graders in the class (this also honestly may have happened in ninth grade with the freshmen against the sophomores but you get the picture). Balls would be placed on the middle line of the gym with members of one team touching the wall on one side of the gym and the members of the other team touching the wall on the opposite side of the gym. You were not allowed to cross over the middle line of the gym to the other teams side. If you got hit, you were out, if you caught the throw from a member of the other team than the projectile launcher was out. Also, for this event the gym had been split in half long ways and we were playing on one side of the gym. Like most high school gyms there were basketball hoops that hung down and our gym had 10 hoops that hung so that the gym could be split up and games could be played on the sides going long ways, or cross ways, or on the main floor of the gym. As a result a rule was added that if someone made a shot into a hoop on the opponents side, the closest of which was at least a regulation three pointer away, then everyone on that team that had been previously knocked out was now back in the game. Mr. Nagy would watch the carnage from his perch on top of the closed bleachers at mid court.

All photos of the school throughout the entry were taken by Mr. Miller of RHHS.

Now that the battlefield is set, I’d like to tell you that I recall all of the aspects of this particular match, but I don’t. What I do remember is that the game had come down to two people remaining, myself on my team and this kind of cool, kind of assholey, kind of better athlete kid on the older kids team, we’ll call him Dave (you get the point by now). To add to this dramatic moment, all of the balls, with the exception of one singular ball, were on his side of the battleground. I was holding that last remaining ball on my side and it was my last shot at taking him out, and some of my most recent feeble throws had come up short, or wildly off their mark. The other, let’s say 12 – 15 previously fallen team members from both teams were on the bench of the gym wildly, as I recall, cheering us on in our fight to dodgeball death.

The ball in my possession was a weird one, it was a bright yellow felt like covered, slightly deflated, soccer ball.

I clung to it like it was the edge of a cliff in a roadrunner cartoon. It was my last bastion of safety as I was stumbling closer to my opponents side while he lay back with one of those red rubber dodgeballs of destruction that come to mind whenever the word dodgeball is mentioned in each of his hands.

My opponent was just waiting for me to throw my last ball at him and then he could unload with a seemingly unlimited arsenal of red welt creating missiles. So I played my way closer to mid court keeping him at a good distance with the threat, which would actually be a gift, of my throw and last attempt to take him out. As I got to the center line I turned and squared up a shot at that basketball hoop, which is when he realized he had won. He advanced on me from the back line quickly, I let my shot fly and the minute the ball had left my hands I turned and ran for my life, which was unsuccessful as he came charging to the mid line and absolutely nailed me with one of those red balls of thunder. I went down in a heap, deflated that the inevitable had happened and I had let the team down.

In the haze and mist of the battle that had taken place (totally adding that in for effect, there was no mist) I rolled over to see my team charging off the bench and nailing my opponent with the ball that had just taken me down. My opponent was as confused and flabbergasted as I was at what was happening. I remember my friend, John (see above), coming over to me and me, dumbfounded, saying something like, “What’s going on? What happened?”, and as he extended his hand out to help me up he responded, simply…”It went in.”

It went in!!!! I had made the shot and as a result my entire team was back in the game! I had sacrificed myself for the advancement of the team. The likelihood of me picking off my opponent from half of a gym away with my last ball was extremely unlikely, the chance of me making that shot with a partially deflated soccer ball was probably even less likely, but I took it anyway. It was one dodgeball life for the lives of my dodgeball teammates. Appropriately, our school mascot was the Spartans.

There wouldn’t be any trophies or parades. I wouldn’t end up detonating a nuclear bomb by hand while riding on an asteroid headed straight for earth while my friends and colleagues achieved a safe distance, but I liken the feeling of those fake Hollywood heroics to my memory of that day. I didn’t feel like a hero in the moment, or, if we are using the true definition of the word, ever, but in retrospect I think my shock that the ball actually went in to save the day, or this particular inconsequential game of dodgeball, and my friend helping me off the floor with the news made some sort of movie like impact in my brain, and it still somewhat resides there today. I’m not sure there is much more for me to take from this one honestly, other than maybe, going forward, which is the only direction we can go in this life, if I want to make an event memorable, for myself or for my family, I’ll make it take on a bit of that heroic flare. I can already see my kids swinging onto the stage with a rope, or maybe even a vine, at the last minute in order to receive whatever advanced degree diploma they’ve achieved. Or maybe, as dumb as seventh grade gym class is, or was, we can still have moments where we have that heroic feeling that just makes us feel as if we are saving the world from imminent doom, even if we are clearly not.

I’ll let Tina play us out, that gym was my Thunderdome that fateful day…

That saxophone player though…outstanding!