Now, let me explain war ball. Firstly, when I play war ball, I gather a rather criminally low self-concept about myself. It seems that I just change, that I just want to hit a person with the ball so hard that I bust they ass. There were three balls, and they were placed in the center of the gym floor. Half court was all you needed. The battlefield was bleacher to bleacher. You had to hit the other person with the ball to knock them out of the war. You could not go beyond a third of the way up, unless coach blew the special whistle that meant you could go up to half court.

So if you could catch the ball, jump and throw, you were in blood. So people from the crib were balanced; we would dominate things if all on the same teams. Twenty-two on twenty-two. Three of them white kids from C.L.U.E. and Hyung Gi Kim didn't dress out. They were playing chess and reading. I couldn't see why they never wanted to play war ball.

Coach finally blew the whistle and we all ran to get balls. The battle was on. The weaker and slower participants were gone. In fact, I got knocked out with nine people left on our team the first game. We lost, too. The second game, I lasted all the way, rolling. I had made a sweet ass jump on and off of the bleachers to avoid death. On one of these sweet maneuvers, I caught a ball thrown at me with one arm. We won.

The last game was the tiebreaker. We were going for it. Seemed nobody wanted to lose. It was thirteen minutes before lunchtime. Nobody ever wanted gym to end. In my search for new enemies, I grabbed a lose ball. It was about twelve on eight. Their ranks were dwindling slowly. One kid on their side had been busted in the nose to the extent of bleeding. Another kid had been busted in the back of the neck. I saw Mark. He was laughing and preparing. He knew that I was coming for him. So I stalked and coach blew the special whistle.

I made him commit to running and bend to suggest a jump. So I threw the ball off the floor to bounce off the bleachers. Hit barely got him, but it did get the back of his leg. He was mad, but he was laughing. The ball came back to me. I then took out Torti. Torti, who I suspected was Italian, got mad and threw the ball out of the door. Bubba went to get it and them shop boys wouldn't give it back to him.

We had always had problems with the shop boys. Even when we were shop boys and the shop boys were gym boys. It was just one of them rival things. It was inherited, it was that if you were in shop first semester, you were gone be in gym second semester. And you knew that it was your duty as being apart of first semester gym and second semester shop, to declare as official enemy, first semester shop and second semester gym.

The shop boys instead threw the ball at him and a fight started. It was four against one, until we all ran out there. Then it was about forty on four and then it was about even Steven. We fought for about a good seven minutes before they broke it up, coach and some more teachers. They go through it every year.

We were all still cussing and bragging and laughing and giving five and shit. Saying we were the best that our respective sides were victorious in the wrestling match. But our stomachs led us to reveal that we were really hungry. The funniest part is that we were walking down the same hall, through the elementary school together, heading for the lunchroom. We didn't even finish the game. I wonder if it is possible not to lose awar and not to win one either.