Forty three years ago I was literally confronted and challenged to a fistfight by someone I had never met. He knew my name. This happened during lunchtime as I walked from the old high school to the cafeteria at the old Junior High. It didn’t take long to realize that he was purposely blocking my way to force the fight. The valiant thing to do at that time was to agree to fight after school behind the Charcoal. That initial confrontation was like an out of body experience especially when I heard myself agreeing to meet him for the duel. For the next four hours I sat in class thinking of ways to back out of the fight. I felt it was going to be an embarrassing situation. I was not good at fighting and I had no experience at all. As the hours dragged on, others would inform me that they planned to be there in support. I soon learned that my opponent was an experienced fighter, street smart and was not in school. I remember counting the final seconds for school to let out so I could go face this person that hated me so much that he wanted to hurt me.
Luckily the fight did not last long. I was told that word had reached school administrators and everyone started running when they saw Mr. Ibarra driving up. This is one moment in my life that is so vivid. I am reminded of this senseless event every time I see the scar on my left forearm. I also wonder why he wanted to hurt me.
