In Dubious Battle

Driving home from work, I came over the Blatnik Bridge to find that Hammond Avenue had been closed for renovations. Taking the detour onto Tower Avenue, I rolled down the window and let my arm hang out. The day was turning into evening, and the sky was lit up with the vibrant colors of a northern Wisconsin sunset. It was such a beautiful evening, and when a corny rock song came on the radio and I remember smiling to myself and feeling pretty good about life.

My sunset cruise was interrupted though by the sound of shouting. Just up ahead, in front of the Odyssey bar, I saw a man and a woman yelling at each other. They were very animated. Then suddenly, the man raised his hand and smacked the woman across the face. I can still recall the shockingly loud and jarring sound that that slap made.

I pulled over to the side of the street and yelled over to the couple through my car window. However, they continued yelling at each other as if they hadn’t heard me. So, I got out of my car and started walking across the street. About half way there, I once again yelled “Hey!” Again, neither of them acknowledged me. The man had apparently heard me though, because as soon as I stepped up onto the curb, without my having said anything else, he spun around and started yelling at me to mind my own business.

Ordinarily I’m a rather timid person. Confrontation is something that I try to avoid. But this was one time in my life when I had more confidence than usual. For several months I had been working out, and was even part of a little amateur boxing club that would get together in abandoned schools houses out in the country and fight. When I saw this man turn towards me, I saw that he was drunk and about the same size as me. I didn’t see a man that I had to fear. I just saw an asshole who needed to be put in his place. I stepped up onto that curb as a cocky, wannabe White Knight, whose arrival on the scene meant justice was about to be dealt!

Immediately, the drunk man and I started shouting at each other. Nothing eloquent or profound mind you, just loud noise in which we were both trying to intimidate the other. And before too long a shoving match began. It was when the shoving started that I remember first hearing the voice of the woman who had been slapped. She was pleading with me to leave them alone. But I just ignored her. I was squaring off with her abuser and focused entirely on trying to get this vile, rival rooster, to back down. She may have been the spark of this, but at this point it was between me and him.

After a couple of back and forth shoves, the other rooster threw a punch. I ducked and it missed. And let me tell you, coming up from the duck, I felt amazing! I felt a rush of adrenalin! It was like something out of a movie! I had been in several fights over the years, but they generally did not go well for me. I’m too clumsy to be a good fighter, and I certainly had never managed to duck a punch before. My already high confidence level soared, and I answered his swing with gusto. Just like the boxing moves my friends and I had practiced, I started hitting him in the chest and stomach with my left fist and then my right. One-two, one-two. My strategy was to hit him in the chest and stomach until I knocked the wind out of him. Then he would just topple over. I would stand over him and say something smug, before walking away the victorious hero. At least that is how I was intending the fight to go.

I don’t know long our hitting match lasted. It felt like forever. I remember hearing the woman pleading several more times with me to stop and leave them alone. I remember how much it hurt my knuckled when some of my punches hit the metal buckles on his denim jacket. And I remember suddenly realizing that my punches didn’t seem to be having any effect on him. I tried hitting him harder, as hard as I could. But he didn’t topple over like he was suppose to.

My confidence suddenly drained away. It was like someone had pulled the plug out of a full sink. One minute I had felt invincible, the next I felt the awful tinge of panic.

I was in trouble and became gripped with fear. I froze. It was probably just a split second, but it was long enough for my drunk opponent to get a good swing in. When his fist hit my eye, it felt like it was a giant brick that was colliding with my head. It stunned me and I remember stumbling back a step to catch my balance. Perhaps I even closed my eyes after that hit, because I didn’t see what he did next, though I sure did feel it.

His foot struck my groin like a wrecking ball. I crumbled onto the sidewalk and curled up into the fetal position, clutching my screaming testicles. It hurt so bad I literally couldn’t believe it. I hadn’t been kicked in the nuts since my high school days, and I had forgotten just how excruciatingly painful it could be. There was no way I was getting back up. No way at all!

Sensing I was down for the count, the other guy kicked me a few times just to drive home the point that he had won.

I don’t remember them being there at the beginning of the fight, but a group of guys who had apparently been watching the fight came up and patted the winner on the back. After thoroughly congratulating their friend, they all went into the bar. Without saying a word, the woman who had been slapped earlier, turned and walked into the bar with them. It was the last time I ever saw her.
It took a few minutes before I gathered the wherewithal to get up and stumble back to my car. Once inside though, I quickly drove away, hoping the embarrassment of loosing would fade like the sidewalk did in my rear view mirror.

Truth be told the embarrassment did eventually fade. Or at least the embarrassment of loosing the fight faded. In its place arose a heavy sense of shame at how I conducted myself that night though. During that whole altercation it never once occurred to me to ask the woman who had been hit if she needed my help, let alone what form that help should come in. I just stepped into her life and took over. I shudder to think what the consequences of my actions might very well have been for her that night. And who knows how many nights after. More than a decade has passed since that fight, and I still hang my head at my arrogance. Perhaps the world would be a better place if there were more people offering solidarity, instead of cocky roosters looking to rule the roost.