Punishing Life's Good Deeds

They say that no good deed goes unpunished, and after tonight, I am inclined to agree. Sunday night I took a comic home from the Funny Bone, and when I dropped him off, he mentioned he had no electric, or food. After watching him enter a dark apartment, knowing he was going to be sitting in the dark, and would have to find a soup kitchen the next day to eat, I felt compelled to help.
A small post on Facebook, a few direct emails and before I knew it, I had raised $350, and bought $50 worth of groceries. It made me feel good to help someone out, and bask in the kindness of others. I worked late and wanted to get my energy back from working 12 hours, so I strapped on my running shoes and headed out at 9:00 pm for a Price Hill run.

Now, I have not been taking very good care of myself, and one of the reasons was an Achilles injury that kept me sidelined most of the summer. But the doctor cleared me to finally get back on my feet and allowed me to run. So this run, being only the second one of the summer, was painful, and reminded me my endurance is only slightly greater than a fat guy climbing stairs. I was wheezing, coughing, trying to catch my breath, as I stumbled from block to block. Walking was part of the process of getting home.

I am approximately 1 mile from my condo, feeling I should stop and rest, when some kids are yelling from a dark corner in Dempsey Park. “Hey man, I want to axe you a question, slow down man. We need to axe you something.” With each statement, I kept running, trying to quicken my pace. But the more I tried to increase my pace, the  quicker their steps became.  Faster and faster, until eventually, I turned and saw 5 kids, around the ages of 15-17 running virtually at full speed right behind me. I don't really count the 13 year old in the total.

What happened next, I cannot explain. The vision of this confrontation played in my head before it happened, and I felt my actions were completely reactionary. I had been running in the street, but found myself running to the park railing when I saw the mob moving closer. I was afraid that they would get behind me somehow, and I didn't want to be surrounded on all sides. The railing helped keep them in a semi-circle where I could see most of them, and as I stopped to confront my pursuers, I knew someone was going to throw a punch. A quick survey of the crew gave me a pretty good indication who, out of the 6, was going throw the first blow. A kid, about 17, wearing a black pseudo-tuxedo shirt, with nappy hair. Taller and older than the rest, he seemed to have an agenda in his eyes.

After stopping, I turned and kept my back to the park railing, as they formed a semi-circle around me. When everyone was relatively still, a smaller member of the gang made a statement I don't remember, but I found myself saying, "OK, ask your question." The oldest one, standing just off my left shoulder winds back and throws a right hook toward my face. I knew this would be the guy to throw the punch, so I ducked under the sweeping blow. His fist barely grazing the top of my head, and I found myself lunging toward my attacker. My crouch gave me some pretty good momentum, as I instinctively lurched up, and toward him.  My fist connected with the bottom of his lower jaw and I could see his eyes get wider as it landed.  I don’t believe he expect a counter attack. My momentum was carrying me into him, and I was afraid both of us would crash to the ground, leaving an open invitation for the others to jump in with little risk.

In an attempt to control my balance, I threw a left elbow toward his head. We were too close to land a full on punch, and we were falling into the street. The elbow connected to the side of his head, and swept his ear. It was enough to slow my forward progress, but we were both still falling. I managed to get both hands on him, push off, and throw him into the street. The action was just enough to create some space for me to sprint away from the pack.
I was running full bore down the street, and some of the younger ones were trying to get in front of me to corner me again. I took a 90 degree, hard left turn, down some stairs. The stairs were narrow, and crumbling, and I struggled to keep my balance. But this evasive maneuver help me separate the pack a little. Two of the kids missed the stairs and ran past the stair opening. Two others must have lost their footing on the steps, and I could hear them crashing down the stairs behind me. That left the one person who took my punch and fell into the street. It was enough of a delay that he could avoid the hazards and see my running pathway.

I hit the bottom of the stairs and took off in a dead sprint into the park. The park was dark. Very dark, and I kept thinking if I let these punks catch up to me in this park, no one will find me until morning. But I knew that the District 3 police station was straight ahead, and that is where I was going. So my legs, which have never run a full sprint in over 3 years, found the energy, after 3.5 miles, to carry me longer and faster than I have run in a long time. My lungs burned with each breath, but my legs were filled with so much adrenaline I could have beaten Usain Bolt to the cop shop. Behind me, I kept hearing "kick his ass" and "get that mother f*&cker." But they seemed so far away I didn't feel that concerned. One comment I heard was "God damn, that f*#cker is fast."

Eventually, I found some light at the end of the park, and quickly turned on my heels to confront any pursues. The only one was the kid I punched originally. He had a look of redemption in his eyes that was a little frightening, but it felt more like embarrassment than rage. Perhaps he was upset he got jacked in front of his friends by some old, white cracker. Whatever the case, I stopped, squared up, and said "You better make this one count." We locked eyes, realizing it was just him and I, he turned and ran into the darkness to meet his posse. I turned and ran to District 3 to report the incident.


When I reported what had just happened, the police officer said, "Oh, we had another guy report the same thing about 7 minutes ago." If that was the case, where were the cops? District 3 is at the end of the park.

I believe I was very lucky. The mob’s only intention was to inflict bodily harm on someone, and I was able to get out of the situation with nothing more than a throbbing hand, which actually feels very satisfying.

I am also glad this did happen to me, and the outcome was favorable. I cannot imagine how this would have turned out had I chosen to execute another option, or if someone else would have stumbled on these low life wanna be pieces of gangster shit!