I Was Being Called a Hero
An incident
An incident. One night. TV cameras not present. Almost no witnesses other than the parties involved. Here is the story (cue Law and Order music):
It was 9:30 at night. Fall of 2015. I was sitting in my brown recliner chair while my wife was laying down on the couch.
“Thump. Thump. Thump thump. Thump.” (Presumably, a missed shot after the same move to the hoop.)
This went on for a bit.
Kathleen then decided to go outside and approach the neighbors across the street in the cul-de-sac. I remained inside like a scared child.
“How much longer will you be playing [basketball]?” she asked the father, mother, and active teenager, noting the need to rest and that she was eight months pregnant.
Moments later, I heard all kinds of commotion. I raced to the window and looked out to see Kathleen surrounded by the parents — all up in her face — and their three barking dogs. The father started getting girly and really loud, yelling this and that. He was closing in on Kathleen.
Suddenly, I emerged from the shadows armed with a long Dresdner Kleinwort (my wife’s old German bank employer) umbrella. I was yelling obscenities. “Get away from my wife! Don’t talk to her that way! Get back in your house!”
