As an underclassman, I remember fear the first time we all walked onto the basketball court in Junior High to play kill ball. I had never played before. Most of the ninth graders were nine feet tall. Eighth graders werent that tall. They were only eight feet tall. Seventh graders, we were tiny. We were just going to be victims, cannon fodder. We separated into two teams and took our places on either side of the basketball court. Taunts were already echoing in the gym. Ninth graders were warning their intended victims. Some Eight graders were defiant, others openly coward. Most seventh graders were deep in prayer.
Five deadly red rubber balls were tossed on to the court. A mad scramble ensued as the balls were captured and the game began.
The red balls flew back and forth across the court, some missing and others striking the unfortunate. Once struck, if the ball was not caught, the person struck was out. They now became a spectator and had to sit on the side. Spectacular hits to the side of the head or to the back were greeting with murmured ‘ooohs’ and ‘ahhhhs’. Interestingly, some of the monsters masquerading as ninth graders were first to fall taken out by vicious, blind side throws from small angry seventh graders taking advantage of the ninth grader’s singular focus on some other poor unfortunate kid. Wimps of all grades were quickly cut down like wheat before the grim reaper. It does not pay to be weak. There is pain involved. Some of the ‘big guns’ stalking their prey continued to fall victim to strategic shots by seventh and eighth graders. Though much larger than the 7th graders, many of the 9th graders didn’t appear to be very smart. they lacked situational awareness, it seams. Some of the real hosses were among the first to sit. The brave were game, but one by one, each went down in a blaze of glory. Some of the eighth graders fell victim to balls traveling at the speed of sound. A few seventh graders were vaporized and sent to their final reward. Eventually, there was only one man standing. It was all over.
Everyone was sitting on the side of the gym laughing and recounting some of the spectacular throws or catches made. Many seventh graders had earned some respect. Eighth graders were feeling a little less intimidated by the ninth graders. The ninth graders were basking in glory born of simple physical superiority but they all understood that they could be taken out by even the smallest among us. Everyone had a good time.
That was what we used to call ‘Kill Ball’. It was a ‘game’, played in Junior High gym class on days when it was too rainy or cold to go outside. It was perhaps our generation’s last opportunity to express raw physical aggression in a public forum in a socially acceptable manner. It brought out all kinds of behavior and taught all kinds of skills. There are a lot of tactics and strategy that goes into playing ‘Kill Ball’. Seventh graders learned that you could take out a ninth grader with what was effectively a sniper shot. Eight graders learned the value of working together as a team, one player protecting another. Ninth graders learned they were not invincible.
In every game you would see inspiring examples of courage and troubling examples of exploitation. You watch as a hulking ninth grader stalks the small, skinny seventh grader. It always happens. The big kid has the clear physical advantage. He’s trying to make the smaller kid run, hide. Like the villain in a bad movie, the big kid teases and ridicules the smaller kid with taunts all the while he stalks him. The smaller kid maneuvers, but has no ball. He’s defenseless. There is no way out. Finally, the larger kid has the smaller kid isolated. He zeros in. The big kid throws a ball so hard that there is a small sonic boom, and the smaller kid is ejected from Earth’s gravitational field.
Everyone watching made mental notes. The Big kid going after the small kid? Big kid is a jerk. You make a note to look for an opportunity to blind side the bastard next time you get play. You don’t even think about possible retribution from him. The social contract among the kids will protect you from retaliation outside the game. What happens in Kill Ball in gym class stays in Kill Ball in gym class. You focus will be on knocking the big guys head right off of his shoulders. You may get vaporized in the game after that, but the glory will be sweet and, protected by the social contract, you won’t get beat up later in the hall for taking the big guy out.
The little guy, the kid, gets up a little shaken by his near death experience. He walks to the side to sit among his peers, the other recently deceased. The side of his face where he was hit is bright red and he wears it like a medal. To his surprise and the surprise of his friends, he’s not actually dead. That’s the important thing. He walked it off and now he enjoys new respect among his peers. He’s little, but tough. In his mind, he too is plotting to ambush the big bastard the next time the game is played. Revenge will be sweet.
The big guy was the biggest loser of all. He went after the smallest kid he could find just because he could. Everyone in the game is fair game, but everyone saw how he intentionally went after the kid who was least able to defend himself. The big guy did this because he could. He did this because he was a bully, a jerk. Every kid and every teacher in the gym recognized the blatant unfairness of the match up, but could not interfere. It was part of the game. The hyena pursued the Meerkat. Everyone in the room felt for the smaller kid. It was like watching a cougar chase down the old, sick gazelle. The ball went across the court like a single gunshot. As the echo of the impact of the ball against the smaller kid’s head dissipated, any peer respect the larger kid had enjoyed was long gone. While his solitary laughter reverberated in the gym, he stood there as good as naked. He was what he was for all to see. Even though what he was wasn’t much, it was all that he was and all that he would ever be. He was a jerk and now, he was a marked man.
Some really valuable life lessons were learned playing ‘Kill Ball’. Life is not fair. Get used to it. The good don’t always win.
Deal with it. Don’t be a wimp. Have courage and be tough. Above all, don’t be a jerk.
Pretty good lessons to learn.
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