So, let's see if I can tie a few childhood stories together. See if this adds to things.
So, I started playing baseball at 4 years old. I am probably still better at baseball than at any other sport because as a kid that was my favorite thing. I remember in a game in 8th grade, we were playing a friend's team. My friend was pitching. The game was tight. 8th inning, tied 4-4. I came up with two outs. Now this friend, we were friends off the field, but on the field we were rivals.
He was pitching. I come up to bat. There are men on 2nd and 3rd. I walk up to the plate, and I make a big show of taking he bat and pointing over the fence, meaning, "I'm gonna take you downtown!" Translation, "I'm going to hit a home run!"
Second pitch, I crushed. It didn't go over the fence. It hit the cross pole on the top of the fence. But it was good enough. It was a double and we were now in the lead. [emoji2].
Yep, with baseball I was cocky. [Truthfully, when it hit the fence that ball was a line drive that was still rising. In Yankee Stadium it would have probably hit the fence. But this fence needs a higher shot by 2" to go over. If it did, it would have still been rising when it hit the building across the street from the baseball field.]
The positions in the field that I played were 3rd base, left field, catcher and pitcher. I have a good arm. On a good day, I can throw a strike from left field to home plate even though that is usually not smart baseball and you are better off hitting the cutoff man. Sometimes I am stupid though. [emoji2]
Okay, throw accuracy. I went to Bronx High School of Science. There is a tradition, or there was when I went there that, on Halloween a bunch of people cut school, go up into the football/baseball field, get drunk, bring dozens of eggs and hurl them at random people passing the school. Needless to say, I am on the field, not in school.
One of the stricter teachers is in a raincoat with a rain hat with a camera (back then there were no digital cameras) taking photos of us on the field. Of course everyone starts hurling eggs at this guy. How could you get a better target.
The field is elevated, he is across the street, up the stairs and back from the street. So from where we are, he is maybe 30-40 yards away. Maybe even more. Most of the eggs thrown don't even come close to the guy.
For perspective on distance:
For perspective, the teacher is up the stairs past the rails on that promenade that leads to the entrance. I am on the edge of the field outside the fence.
So, the teacher being there cause some of us delinquents to throw eggs rapid fire. And somehow it happened that, I have the last remaining egg and I was too busy drinking beer to have thrown any eggs yet. But I am now surrounded by derelicts trying to convince me that I should give that last egg to them because they think they have a better shot at hitting the mark than I do.
But I shrug them off and I bide my time. And then I hurl that egg sort of like a football with a nice spiral. Well, I definitely am the only person on that hill who nailed this teacher.
He needed to clean that lens and his glasses because the egg caught the edge of the lens and the splatter caught the side of his face: pretty much the only part of him that was exposed to slime as a result of the yellow rubber rain gear.
Okay. So now I'm pitching and my friend, yeah, that guy I looked up to as a kid, who is actually not in jail and never got caught, but is a murderer. So he is coaching me on pitching STRATEGY. Now I'm an okay pitcher. Not great. But accurate. I have a curveball that is pretty good. My fastball tails and I can make it tail down and away or up and away. Up and away is more lethal. But I'm not as good at getting that.
Anyway his strategic instructions are: "no, man, your aiming for spots on the plate. Aim for body parts. Like, you see how he is leaning in and crowding the inside of the plate, aim the curveball at the spot between his shoulder and his head. It will curve over the plate and be a strike. And he will be bailing out because it looks like it is going to nail him until it breaks." Another instruction: "aim the fastball at his knee. It will tail over the plate." Or: "aim the slider thigh high on the outside corner. It will look like a strike till the bottom drops out. Then he'll be swinging at dust."
Now, from a strategy standpoint, these were great instructions. I can't tell you how many times I had someone bailing out on a pitch that looked like it would hit them only to have the ball curve or tail over the plate for a strike. And it is way harder to hit a pitch if you are constantly scared the pitcher is aiming for your head. So, yeah, great strategy until one pitch didn't do what it was supposed to and I nailed the batter in the head.
This guy was definitely not happy and me apologizing was not going to change the fact that he got hit in the head and I got my ass kicked badly. Good thing he was wearing a helmet. [emoji2]
I'd say I deserved the beating. In part it was because I listened to that advice. But more, for the fact that I got off on making guys afraid to stand in and swing at those pitches. With better judgement I never would have beaned anyone.
Okay, next story: I'm on the lower east side with a bunch of friends hanging out. One of them is this guy I already told you about in a few stories. See, I knew him all my life. I am a teenager at this time. He is in his early 20s. He is on a BMX bike. We are all hanging out, guys and dolls, on a stoop on east 11th Street.
At one point, somehow I'm alone on 2nd Ave but still in site of my friends and these 3 guys come up and start giving me a hard time. My infamous friend rides up on his bike and says: "What's the problem here?"
Now I'm not a big guy. I'm sure Der_ and NL can attest to that. I'm glad my infamous friend rolls up. Fighting has never been my thing.
Anyway, some more words are exchanged and my infamous friend says, "I don't know him. This has nothing to do with him. Me and you three. What, you guys think you have a chance? I guarantee, I will take two of you down one punch each. The only questions is if you," and he points to one of them, "if you can take me down before I get to you."
Now, none of these guys were small. But his psychotic confidence made these three guys back down and walk away.
To me, at the time, I thought that was the coolest thing ever. But, in retrospect, I didn't realize that part of him really did want to take on all three of them alone. And I am 98% sure they all would have ended up in the hospital.
In retrospect, years later, I look back at that with some discomfort. I was party to it. At the time, I did not realize my friend had killed someone but, he was already a murderer when this incident took place.
What does that say about me? There is part of me that is attracted to violence that isn't actually okay. I personally did not look at or deal with these things until I was a father and realized that it was no longer okay to be a reckless teenager in an adult body.
What am I saying? I'm still on that subject of our dark sides. We can't eliminate them. But we can examine, become aware, and try to understand ourselves better. And make it so our dark side does not dig us into becoming worse than we are.
We are all complex multidimensional beings. We all have parts of us that are good and parts that are not so good.
Leaving no doubt about my love for the Harry Potter books I will leave you with a quote from Albus Dumbledore:
"It is our choices, Harry, that show what we truly are, far more than our abilities."
Sent from Inside The Chamber of Secrets by Patronus
