| The Bully Who Found God |
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| Written by Ross Cavins | |||
| Wednesday, 15 August 2007 01:54 | |||
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Everyone remembers a couple bullies from their school years. But there's usually one in particular that always stands out. He was the meanest, snottiest excuse for a human being on the face of the earth. He never had mercy and he never cared for anyone but himself.
One such class was 9th grade Physical Science, Mr. Beamon's realm. Now here's a teacher who seemed clueless to the real world. He was either a true moron or so close to retirement that he just didn't give a damn. In all actuality, I believe it was a healthy mix of the two.  The Space Shuttle Challenger Explosion. We also had gym class together our senior year. Danny was fairly athletic but not the best in any sport, and I held a little satisfaction that I was better than him at everything. But I was a late bloomer, growing ten full inches and my wide chest in the last two years of high school. I went from a puny little guy to one as big as our front line on the football team. The coach actually stopped me in the hall one day and asked me why I wasn't on his team. I told him that (1) I wasn't into pain, and (2) unless he could give me money for gas and dates, I wasn't giving up my job. End of conversation. I had a couple of friends in this gym class, they were both scrawny and shy. Like I used to be. Danny picked on us in little ways, nothing big, just enough to show his contempt for the world. Hurling curse-riddled insults for laughs, giving a little shove in the hallway followed by a loud laugh to show off, pulling someone's shorts down on the playing field. My senior year, I decided it would happen no more. There was one particular day in gym class when we were playing softball. I was covering first base and Danny was batting. He hit a slow ground ball to third who threw him out. I was still stretched out with my foot against the inside of first, catching the ball, when Danny ran by and kicked my leg. I was so surprised that at first I just stared after him as he ran down the baseline. Then the anger built up and I cocked my arm back and threw the ball at him. I missed but it surprised the hell out of him. Who was this nerd challenging him? He turned and started to say something smart to me but I was already advancing on him. I wanted revenge for all those times he'd picked on me and my friends. I was big now and it was up to me to even the score. I don't exactly remember what happened next because I was seeing more red than a Mexican bull. I do know we never fought but I also know that I wasn't the one who backed down. Score one for the meek. But it was a hollow victory. The bully hadn't been beaten to a pulp by my enraged fists. I lacked the meanness to take the confrontation to the next level without more provocation. He lacked the guts to push my buttons when I was primed and ready to go to town on his freckled ass. As luck would have it, I was given another chance.  The Sport of Flag Football. You've probably guessed what happened. One of my friends had the ball, running through defensive territory to the goal line, and Danny pushed him violently to the ground. His laugh echoed throughout my head until the next play, when I asked for the ball and went straight for him. He stepped out of the way just before I mowed him down. He got the picture. There was no more bullying that day. I saw Danny once more after school, years later when I was in college. He was a changed man, his hair cut short and his clothes clean and conservative. And he was carrying a Bible, a pretty big Bible. Something huge had happened to him, something life-changing enough to make him repent his bullying ways. Someone even told me he'd been "saved." I didn't know how to react. Here's this guy, who'd bullied everyone in the world and I hated his guts for it. But he'd changed. How could I hate him now? How could I despise his very soul for existing now that he'd come over to the light side? He'd become a good guy, one of us, one of the non-violent meek who are supposed to inherit the earth. Yet I still harbored ill will toward him for the past. I surveyed my emotions that day and looked deep inside myself. What kind of person would I be to still hate him? How pure and innocent would I be if I held a grudge? What would it say about me if I didn't extend the olive branch? It was time for some major introspection. I went soul-searching like I'd never done, digging into the farthest recesses of my psyche, diving for the greatest treasure of all time. To learn of my true self. And do you know what I discovered? What I found when I peeled back all the layers of my personality? I found humanity. To this day, I still want to kick his scrawny little red-headed punk ass till he begs me over and over for mercy. It would feel pretty damn good. Repent this you son of a bitch.
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