"Grandpa it's sign-up time for Little League football." I ran into the house waving a pink sheet of paper in my hands. "Here's the sign-up sheet. Please let me join. Pleeeaaase. Pleeeeeeeaaaase. It's only $15 for registration, and tryouts are next week! All I need is my parent or guardian's permission." I pointed at a blank underlined space on the form and gave a hopeful glance up to my grandfather.
"Junior, you know how your Grandma feels about football. She never let your daddy play when he was little. It's a rough sport. You're so skinny and little, they'll squash you like a bug." Grandpa gave me an understanding look full of tender compassion, but it still didn't tell me whether or not I could join the team.
"But pleeeaaasssse can't I try? Pleeeease????" I pleaded, spinning around the living room like a toy top, nearly knocking over Grandma's antique Victorian lamp.
"What's all that racket going on in there?" yelled Grandma from the other room. "I'm trying to watch my TV show."
"Junior says he wants to join the Little League football team," Grandpa yelled back.
"He wants to what?!" exclaimed Grandma.
"You heard me. He wants to play football with the other boys. Will you let him do it or not?" he asked tentatively.
"Over my dead body!" she humphed. "That boy is too small. Those kids will break every bone in his little body. He will not join ANY FOOTBALL TEAM. You hear me?"
"Yes, Grandma. I hear you," I said, and crumpled up the sign-up sheet and stuck it in my pocket. The verdict was handed down. No football with Louie and Robbie. Period. Now they'll have another reason to tease me at school for sure. I'm always being laughed at. I hate it. They pick on me for the way I look. For being skinny. For having big teeth. For my shoes. For my name. For living with my grandparents. For being Japanese. I left the house and climbed up the maple tree which Grandpa planted years before I arrived. Its thick white branches spread out across the backyard creating a safe retreat for a professional tree climber like myself. They never let me do anything, I grumbled as I watched a long string of black ants wind their way up the branch next to mine.
My grandfather, who was now well into his 80's, was a kind and knowing man. He had spent his many years working for the railroad, the D&RGW. Denver & Rio Grande Western. He told me how he started out in 1918 as a spike catcher, running back and forth beneath the hot metal forges, catching the newly made railroad spikes in a bucket as they were tossed down from the blacksmiths above. Later he became a waiter on the elegant dining cars, and thirty-seven years later he became the superintendent for all the dining cars on the railroad. He believed in self-made success, had seen a good part of the world, and knew how to take care of himself. Grandpa seemed fully aware of the problems I ran into at school. I was special, he said. I was the only Japanese boy in the school. And I was awfully small. Of course they would tease me.
"Junior, you listen to me," Grandpa said on my first day of school. "There's good boys and there's bad boys waiting for you there. They'll want to pick a fight with you for no reason at all. But you're much smarter than them, so just ignore them. If they cause you trouble, just run away. That's the best way to solve the problem. There's no need to fight. But if you really get stuck, and have nowhere to run, then I want you to hit them so hard in the nose they'll never forget it until the day they die. Sometimes you have to earn your respect, Junior. Do you understand?" He then showed me how to throw the Gentleman Jim uppercut. "You always hit them fast and hard," he said. "And you always aim for the tip of the nose. That hurts the most. Just like this," and he threw a classic uppercut, cutting the air with his big powerful fist. "If you land one good punch like this," he said, "that rascal won't know what hit him."
I thought about the Gentleman Jim uppercut a lot during my first months at Lincoln Elementary School. But I never used it. Usually I was subjected to typical nonsense stuff where the other boys would taunt and tease me, shouting, "Chinese, Japanese, dirty knees, look at these," then they'd pull their shirts out to imitate breasts. I hated them, but what could I do? I never said anything, and walked away just like Grandpa told me to. Still, it really burned me up inside. I really wished I was big enough to shut them up.
The next day at school, while I was putting my books in the locker, Louie slid into me from behind, making me spill everything on the floor. "Why'd you do that for, dummy?" I yelled at him, as I picked up my books and pencils.
"Because," Louie barked, "You're a mama's boy, and your mama won't let you play football with us." Louie was tall and skinny and he had buckteeth and freckles. Sometimes he was a friend. But not today. "She wants you to stay home and help her plant flowers, doesn't she?"
"No. My Grandma just thinks it's not the right time for me to play," I lied awkwardly. I really hated Louie today. He was taller than me, had a beautiful sister named Carmen, and his parents were both young. They didn't care if he was on the team or not.
Later in the day during lunch break, I realized that I had forgotten my money, so I ran back to my locker to get it out of my jacket. I ran through the empty halls as fast as I could, so I could get back to the marble game with Larry and Randy. That's when I ran into Fat Wayne and his gang. They were bouncing a basketball against the lockers, which was against school rules. They were always late for class, and spent every day in suspension. We were all scared to death of Fat Wayne.
"Hey slant eyes!" Wayne yelled at me when I got to my locker. "What are you doing in our hall? Where's your pass?" He walked over and saw me take the dollar from my jacket. "Give me your money now or I'll kick your butt, Chinaman," said Fat Wayne. He looked back at his gang who now had me surrounded.
"Leave me alone," I said, and tried to get away.
"Where you think you're going, Chink-o?" he said, catching my shirt. "I told you to gimme your money, stupid."
"I'm not gonna give you anything," I yelled and slipped past, running as fast as I could to the end of the hall. "But I'll let you kiss my butt for free!"
"Get him!" I heard Fat Wayne scream, but I was already up the stairs. I could run back from the second floor and avoid them, but the doors to the second floor were locked, and now I was trapped. The gang caught up with me, and Fat Wayne started laughing. He walked menacingly over as he rolled up his sleeves. "I'm gonna smash your ugly face, Chinaman," he said and pushed me in the chest, throwing me up against the doors. "I told you to give me your money."
"I'm not giving you anything," I said, knowing I was finished.
"Oh yeah? Wait until I break your nose, slanty eyes. Then you'll see." He pushed me again, making me nearly fall over. The gang were all laughing, enjoying the show.
This is really terrible. There's no place to run, and they're going to kill me. I'm really dead. "If you push me again," I said in my biggest voice, "I'm gonna make you really sorry."
"Ooh I'm so scared, Chinaman," Fat Wayne said in a high voice, sneering back at his gang behind him on the stairs. "He's going to make me really sorry." He pushed me again, this time much harder, up against the steel doors. "So what are you going to do now, Chink Butt?"
Ka-boom! I threw the Gentleman Jim uppercut that Grandpa taught me as hard as I could right smack into Wayne's fat nose, sending him rolling down the stairs into his pack of thugs. He landed with a thick thud, splitting his pants. One of his shoes came off too.
"Why'd you do that for?" cried Fat Wayne like a baby. He held his hands to his nose which was dripping a gooey mixture of blood and snot onto his shirt.
"Because I told you I would," I said. "And the next time you touch me I'll hit you twice as hard, so you better leave me alone, you fat turd." Then I ran down the stairs, past the gang as fast as I could without saying a word. I couldn't believe it. I hit Fat Wayne! There was so much gossip about the fight that day that no one bothered to ask me about playing football.
During the next class, I was summoned to the principal's office. Fat Wayne reported in to the nurse, and now I was in serious trouble. Mr. Reynolds told me what I did was very wrong, and that he should suspend me for ten days. "But not this time," he said with a stern look, "Just remember to stay out of trouble." Actually, we both knew Fat Wayne deserved his broken nose, but I kept my eyes on the ground, and mumbled that I was really sorry, and wouldn't do it again.
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