Live Together, Die Alone

Ok, so here's the story; like I mentioned in my last blog, in the fall of that year, during my junior year of high school, I saw a boy (man? he was 17, you tell me), lose "one of his boys" to the top of a chain link fence very much like the one pictured above in this blog. It was during second period gym class, for that part of the semester the activity was tennis. As I had said the tennis courts were surrounded by the aforementioned chain link fence. It was somewhere in the second week of tennis class, after we had done some fundamentals work and learned grip, stroke, pressure, speed, force, thrust, ... hey, we are still talking about tennis, right? Anyway, all the boring getting to know your racket crap was out of the way and it was time for us to split up into teams and play mixed doubles. We had to split up into guy/girl teams and Kathy Louis was my partner. This kind of has a Rustler connection in that she was the sister of the guy Meg was dating for awhile. His name was Steve, that's all I remember except for the time he got kicked by a horse, maybe you remember that too, Cerpts. But I digest, or something or other. After we picked partners they made a chart for us to play a round robin tournament. As luck would have it, I was actually pretty good at tennis, I was athletic back then. So was Kathy, she was the catcher for the softball team and the goalie for field hockey or maybe it was lacrosse. So, obvious, she was tough. Also later in life a lesbian, but that's not PERT-inent to the story ... or is it? Actually it's not I was just trickin'. So we are playing a match against another team, no idea who the girl was, but the guy was a teammate of mine on the football team, Robert Lee. No his middle name didn't start with an "E" it was Albert. Yeah, I had to ask. He was half Asian and half Puerto Rican. He also sat behind me in English class, this will come into play later. Anyway, back to that fateful tennis match; even though Robert was athletic as well, his partner was not. Kathy and I was doing a pretty good job of kicking their butts when Robert hit a shot back to me. It was one of the biggest lobs I had ever seen. Suddenly my racket seemed to be three times it's actual size, the ball was in slow motion, and we had a pretty big lead. This seemed like a perfect time to do my best Greg Luzinski impression (he was a baseball player on the Phillies back then, I almost said Mike Schmidt, but he's a dick) I wound the racket back and crushed it with a two handed forehand and lifted it up, up, up, and over the chain link fence that was around the tennis court. The number one rule of tennis in gym class was if you sent the ball over the fence you had to go get it. Two teams, one match, one ball. How odd, I should make the last part of that statement, but I'm jumping ahead of myself. Robert looked at me and said "Nice one asshole!". To which I dropped my racket and celebrated with my best "It's outta here!" Harry Kalas impression (he was and still is the announcer for the Phillies, he also does the NFL films commentary now since John Fascenda died a few years back.) So Robert says; "Now go get it." Here's a little more info about the layout of the tennis courts and the offending fence; there was only one door that led onto and off of the tennis courts. The door was two courts down and on Robert's side of the courts. So I replied "C'mon man, you're closer." Apparently Robert had been paying attention during science class or whatever class you are in when you learn the rule that the shortest distance between two points is a straight line. So instead of going over to the door, exiting the tennis courts, and getting the ball, Robert decides he's going to go over the fence. Now this fence had to be about 10 or 12 feet tall. In the middle of the fence there was a metal pole that was for support that went all the way around the courts. Robert quickly jumped up, used this pole for support as well as a jumping off point for his feet in order to scale the second half of the fence. As he got to the top, where there was no more support, and it was exactly as pictured above, Robert swung one leg over and tried to use the pressure grip method with the toe of his sneaker as he went to swing the other leg over. His toe was about a foot or two from reaching the support bar and I guess he figured his foot would catch it as he slid down. Well, he never had the chance to test this theory however, because as he went to swing the second leg over, his foot other foot slipped. In other words he crotched the top of the chain link fence. All of the air immediately went out of Robert (this wasn't the only thing that would be coming out of my teammate this beautiful October morning), then he started moaning and screaming in agony. I ran over to him and asked if he was alright as I tried to stop laughing. He then informed me that the fence went into his balls. Of course my only answer was "What?", as I felt my own stomach lurch, flip upside down, and then spin back around. He once again informed me, a little louder this time, and with a lot more panic in his voice, that the fence went into his balls. I believe his exact words were: "I think the fence skewered my nut!" I yelled for the gym teacher, Mr. Kelley. He was still oblivious at this point to what was going on and what had happened. He immediately told Robert to get down off of the fence. I told him that I didn't think that was possible. He started walking over and I decided to meet him half way. It was about this time that someone else noticed the blood that was now drenching Robert's white gym shorts, the fence, and even dripping onto the tennis court. I looked back and my brain had a difficult time of processing the information my eyes were transferring to it. As Mr. Kelley asked to nobody in particular, "What the hell happened to him?", I realized my friends blood was all over the fence, and not just any blood, it was nut blood. I then told Mr. Kelley that I thought the fence was in Robert's balls. So he continued to walk towards Robert and told me to go get the nurse, which I did as fast as my fat ass could go. I ran into the school, into the nurses office and quickly blurted "We need you at the tennis courts, Robert Lee's nuts are on the fence. The nurse looked dumbfounded. She asked me if I thought we needed 911, to which I said I thought that might be a good idea. So she called them and then we went back to the tennis courts. In the time it took me to go get the nurse and for her to call 911 everyone except for Mr. Kelley was back in the school. Well, Robert was still there too, duh! I told Mr. Kelley we had called 911 and he told me to go get one of the janitors and see if they could bring out the cherry picker. If you don't know what a cherry picker is I'll try and describe it; it's like a ladder, with a landing and a little compartment for you to stand on,think of one of those little basket type ladder things that are on the PSE&G trucks that they use to raise them up to work on telephone poles. Well, that's what a cherry picker is. The one we had at the school was one you had to push around as it was on wheels. By the time me and two janitors got back to the tennis courts with the cherry picker an ambulance and a cop had arrived. the cop wanted a statement which I had to give him and the paramedics thought the cherry picker was pretty useful idea. So they erected the ladder and one of them climbed up and began to examine Robert who was now quieter than he had been a few minutes prior. Of course that was because he was in shock as the paramedic was quick to point out. That's pretty understandable. Every little movement sent waves of pain through Robert's body to the point he had faded in and out of consciousness a couple of times while perched on the top of the ball piercing fence. Then the paramedic that was checking out Robert said to the other "Call West Jersey, and ask if they want us to cut the fence or extract on the scene." I had no idea what that meant but it didn't sound as bad as it was going to get. Mr. Kelley then told me that when I finished telling the police what happened I could go inside and get ready to go to my next class. Robert then spoke up and said "No, I want him here." Mr. Kelley said it was okay if I wanted to stay and I figured I was partially responsible so it was the least I could do. How I soon wished I had decided to leave then and there. I finished telling the cop what had happened and came over to Robert and told him to hold on they we going to get him down real soon. Now he told me the fence was ripping his ball and his sack. My stomach did it's acrobatics again a little more seriously this time. The paramedic that was on the radio in the ambulance said and I quote "West Jersey said extract on sight and apply pressure packs until arrival.". That didn't sound good I had decided pretty quickly but I tried to make it sound like a good thing to Robert. "They are going to get you down now man.", I told him. He didn't respond, I think he was as close to fainting as he could get without actually doing it. The paramedic who was up on the ladder then gave Robert a needle. Yeah, in the balls! I'm getting queasy just writing this now. Well, apparently "extract on site" meant "take out the testicle and leave it dangling on the fence" because that was what they did. After they lifted Robert off of the fence (a few ounces lighter as well as a pint or two of blood lighter), it took me a few minutes to stop staring at my friends testicle that was now hanging on the fence. It wasn't as big as I had expected nor as round. It kinda looked like a bloody chicken dumpling. The paramedics put Robert on a stretcher and put him in the ambulance. While the one started an iv and got his vital signs (Robert was thankfully unconscious by now either from pain or drugs, I don't know which to this day), the other one removed the destroyed testicle and placed it in a blue bag. On the bag written in large black block letters were the words: Medical Waste. A few minutes ago it was a testicle inside the body of a seventeen year old and now it was "medical waste". I looked at the paramedic and asked him if they could save it and he told me it was almost impossible. So fast forward a week or so and Robert is back in school and he is sitting behind me in English class. I asked him how he was and he said it still hurt some and I apologized and sad I felt like it was my fault which he of course said it wasn't. Then he told me something I never expected him to tell me. He told me he had an artificial nut. It was made out of silicone (just like a breast implant apparently). To which I asked "What?!" And then just for good measure added; "Why?!" The answer was surprisingly convincing, Robert had asked the plastic surgeon for it. Robert felt that later in life when he might be "getting busy", as he put it, he didn't want a girl to be going down there and feeing around and only feel one ball. That was the end of our conversation about his nut, ever. Sometimes I think about it and wonder if they could have put a little zipper in his sack, maybe even like a stint so he could open the sack and close it thereby allowing him to have a variety of different balls to place inside. You know, holiday and special occasion theme balls. A little jingly one for Christmas, one shaped like an egg for Easter. Or maybe even a squeaky one like they put in dog toys. Now there is a conversation piece!