“How did this happen,” my parents ask. Wanting to know what started it all. Coolness from the ice pack sits on my face, melting away the bruise that stands. A pounding headache that goes with the beat of my heart. Most only care about my well-being and not what caused it to be endangered in the first place. It’s almost midnight, and statement after statement is still being given, the police asking that same question as my parents. They all want to know what started the fight.

A rush of excitement went through my body as the clock was about to strike 7. The game was soon to begin. After spending the last hour getting ready, I was just about done. Painted in red and black, and dressed in a jersey as if I was playing the game, I was ready. On the drive there, I noticed that we weren’t the only people headed in the direction of the field. Many cars were speeding around trying to find parking, like trying to find a needle in a haystack. After I’m dropped off, and my dad and I have said our goodbyes, all that came to mind was how responsible I am becoming. This was, in fact, the first game he didn’t come to “babysit” me. So a feeling of independence washed through me as I walked to the already raging crowd. But little did I know I was soon to become a raging bull ready to trample anything in my path.

“Touch Down,” yelled the crowd again. With only seconds left of the first half, this was a relief to all. The Bombers finally taking the lead. Getting up from my seat it was now half-time. As I was walking I was crowded by a sea of faces, but only one sticking out in particular. Not because of what he looked like, but because of what next came out of his mouth. Now I’ve never been one to let words really get to me, but this was different. This person seemed to be around my age, was obviously taller considering I hadn’t had my growth spurt yet. But I could tell right away he didn’t care if his words stung me. I wondered what I had done as my eyes started to fill with tears, threatening to spill out. He continued to harass me until I got back to my seat. As I wiped a tear, the football players positioned themselves as the second half was about to begin.

The blow of a whistle sounded as we intercepted the ball. The third quarter was coming to an end, and the crowd goes wild. I wish I could be more with the crowd, but his words still filtered through my head. Although I don’t want to miss part of the game, my stomach says otherwise. Blocking the negative thoughts from my head, I head to concessions.

Sadly my hunger would have to wait as I was abruptly pushed by the same guy from before. I hit the ground hard. I grab my head in pain as I stand, he spits more cuss words at me, all I see is red. Suddenly his words are cut short when I shove him back. The fight begins. Punches are thrown, neither of us caring if we miss. People take their eyes away from the game and turn them towards us noticing the fight that broke out. People start to break us up. I’m pulled to a near chair and told to sit. Someone calls my parents and the police. But all I think about is how angry I am, how I let his words get to me. I start to wonder what will my parents think. I guess we’ll soon find out.

My parents come to me in a hurry. The police not far behind them. I’m crushed by my parents in a hug. Once they're done the police start their questioning. I answer their questions, my parents listening very closely. Once they were done, we walked to the car in silence. Not even a fly could be heard. My dad finally speaks up and says,” I’m glad you stuck up for yourself, maybe not in the best way but you did.” I look at him and take his words into account. I did stick up for myself. I mean with siblings I tend to ignore their comments, but I was proud of myself. On the drive home, my parents tell me that the Bombers won the game. I smile in my head knowing that there were two wins tonight.

Although I came out with some bumps and bruises I learned then on that I need to not let people get to me. What you allow is what will continue, so I didn’t allow it. I learned one of my strengths that night, and it will stick with me for the rest of my life. Now violence is not always the answer, but growing up with three siblings it can be. OSHO once said,” The greatest fear in the world is the opinions of others, and the moment you are unafraid of the crowd you are no longer a sheep, you become a lion. A great roar arises in your heart, the roar of freedom.”