A play at the plate

Birthday today. I almost never wake up with a sad memory, but today, for some reason, I did. I was 9 or 10 years old -- the time when Bruce H. was bullying me constantly -- and our class was playing softball. I was playing catcher, Bruce was on the other team, and there was a play at the plate. I received the ball in plenty of time to make the tag, but instead of burying the ball in my mitt and tagging him with the mitt, which you're supposed to do, I tried to tag him with the ball itself. (I think I was a little unclear on both the rule, which says tagging with the mitt is okay, and on how the play was supposed to be performed.)

With a banshee cry, Bruce yanked the ball out of my hand and tossed it away while crossing the plate. Big crybaby that I was, I loudly protested that Bruce's action had been unfair. My perspective was that yanking the ball from a fielder was unheard of. Sometimes the runner knocks the ball away (as happened in the stunning play at the plate in the Giants-Marlins playoff game last year) and sometimes the catcher hangs on (ibid.). But you don't reach out and just take the ball away.

Our teacher the umpire called Bruce out -- though from my perspective nearly 40 years later, he should have been called safe, frankly.

What's significant about this incident is how typical it is of the way Bruce bullied me. Very seldom did he actually beat me or physically push me around. Mostly, he simply used his size and strength to intimidate and humiliate me, doing things that were so startling and unexpected that before I figured out how to respond, the moment was over, and Bruce had delivered his annoying victory cry and moved on. The only atypical thing about this incident is that there was an adult there to intervene and rule against Bruce; usually the teachers, Scout leaders and others who were supposed to be in charge just looked the other way.

Yeah. Still pissed off about this nearly 40 years later. I guess I should get over it!