Assault + Betrayal, High School Memory

I played football in high school.  I was a 6'2", 162 lb tackle as a 15 year old junior, on the varsity squad.  I wasn't sure why I was a tackle.  I spent a fair amount of my practice time on offense, getting crushed by a 6'3", 225 lb defensive tackle nicknamed "Tiny."  On one particular practice day I was putting some time in on defense.  After a play ended, I had returned to the defensive line as the offensive players walked back through us to huddle up for their next play.  As I stood among my teammates, watching the offensive huddle begin to take shape ten yards away, I suddenly felt a crushing pain in my right kidney.  My vision blurred, I couldn't breathe, I couldn't stand.  I toppled forward onto my hands and knees.  I put my head on the ground, I raised it up, trying to find a position that let me inhale.  While I gasped for air, I looked to my left to see
the toughest boy in our school, a 5'10", 240 lb offensive tackle, watching me as he grapevine-stepped away from me, his handiwork now being observed, like a chemistry experiment.  He was happy with his achievement.  It was as he no doubt expected.  A kidney punch on a totally unsuspecting kid, 80 lbs smaller than you, will have devastating results.

This came up in my PTSD therapy.  Had it happened in a game, against an opposing player, he would have been ejected; maybe even suspended for a time.  This was not only an unprovoked, cowardly attack, but it was on his own teammate. This was a betrayal. Within weeks, he made national news by proposing in our locker room, that a pot be collected, and be awarded to a player that put out of the game, the star ball-carrier son of a San Francisco state legislator.  He proceeded on to become the most hated (by the community) member of an East Bay police department, before being convicted of criminal activity and going to prison.

John Ingle, my PTSD guy, asked me, in session, how I might have responded today.  I discovered I had quite a charge living in me about this incident.  My fictitious response brought out both the recent Kung-Fu training I've received from Kung-Fu Master, Tosh Stone; my Karate training of years ago; and my police hand-to-hand combat training with San Francisco Sheriff's Dept.  I demonstrated a collection of responses that made me feel better, defused the electrical memory of the cold-blooded, cowardly attack on me, and left me feeling more comfortable that I no longer presented a likely prospect for such an action.  This may be a contributing factor to my weight fluctuating only slightly around 275 lbs.  I have worked out seven out of the last nine days, and we'll see if more vegetables and more muscle building will return me to a healthier profile.  But my remembered assailant (in the therapist's office) would never repeat such a disreputable attack, that was very satisfying to me.