Big Bad John

Remembering back to High School days there are always a few memories that stand out. Big Bad John was one of those for Neil.

It was the beginning of another high school new year, a time of year when summer tans begin to fade and classrooms fill with familiar faces, a few missing ones and then the new ones. September always brought changes.

Big Bad John was one of those changes. He was the 6’5” 280 pound guy that came from Nebraska or somewhere out West who had spent his summer tossing hay bails and wrestling wild bulls. He was all muscle with a thick neck, broad shoulders and arms as big as thighs with calloused hands that struggled to reach his pockets.

And with most big boys, he had a natural puffy mean looking face with narrowed eyes and scowling lips.  He probably even growled with each breath. He was lumbering fear that trampled whatever was before him.

And he was not happy having to leave friends and teammates behind and enter a pissy New England school, but his father was transferred so he reluctantly and begrudgingly had to go.

Big Bad John was like Moses parting the sea or a 2-door refrigerator moving through the school hallways. 



His path was always cleared like the parting of the Red Sea. Everyone who saw him coming, immediately found interest in something in their locker and turned away. No one stood in his way or dared look him in the eye. The halls were HIS!

He was the Fright Tackle on the football team.

That was the way it was till the day Big Bad John push into the back of Neil Keenan, the 140 pound point guard on the basketball team. It was just a little shove, a “get out of my way” tap but that stopped Neil in his tracks.

Neil turned and faced death in the hall. All became silent. 

Neil smiled and looked Big Bad John in the eye and simply said, “Hi John.”

John replied, “Don’t you have anything in your locker?” “Nope.” Said Neil.

“Yer not afraid of me?” John asked. 

“Why should I be? Neil replied, “I can run circles around you on the court any day.”  Big Bad John smiled and said, “I heard about you, but I’d like to see you get by me on the field.” Neil stepped aside as John went on to class. Everyone in the hall sighed.

A few days later Neil spotted Big Bad John in the cafeteria. John always sat alone at a table all by himself.  Everyone was afraid to sit with him out of fear of being eaten or flattened or having their food taken and consumed by this mountain of a man. Big Bad John ate alone.

Fearless Neil knew innately that no man should eat alone so he marched over to Big Bad John’s exclusive table and plopped his tray down and asked, “Can I sit here?” 

The whole cafeteria became quiet. The last bite hung in mouths. All eyes watched. Big Bad John looked up and stared at Neil then after an ominous pause said, “You really aren’t afraid, are you?”

 “Are you afraid that I am going to steal your food?” Neil came back at him.

 “Sit.” Said John.  And so began a new friendship.

Every day from then on Neil ate lunch at Big Bad John’s table. A week or so later Neil invited one by one, his friends and teammates to join him at Big Bad John’s table. There was trepidation at first, but fears melted away like ice cream on a hot September day.  

Soon Big Bad John’s table was full of laughter and stories about girls and guys that got creamed by John on last Friday night’s football game. 

They all found out that Big Bad John wasn’t so bad after all and that he was a pretty smart fellow.  He certainly helped Neil with his homework many times and continued a lasting friendship for many years to come. 

In fact, Big Bad John became King of the Ball after the game and ended up dating the homecoming queen and the best looking girl in the school who he later married.

Big Bad John did go on to get an athletic scholarship to a Texas football university where he excelled on and off the field. He later enjoyed a long professional football career as the same old feared tackle, but Neil always knew him for who he really was inside… a big pussy cat.

That’s how you make real friends. A little bit of love and care and no fear to give it.

Copyright © 2025, GROUP K, Ltd.

School Sportz Daze

In the United States all schools have extracurricular programs from physical sports to skill training, from band practice to debate clubs, from drama and choral programs to community development and charity events. 

There is always a program for every student to participate in and enjoy based on individual interests and skills.

Neil was particularly suited for programs that stimulated his mental logic and physical athleticism.  At 5’8” and 140 pounds there were few physical sports that his body type was suited.  He liked the strategy of American football but risked life and limbs when faced with 6’5” 280 lbs Big Bad John!  That was a physical game of giants, not a scrawny scrappy kid.

Chess

That left Neil with the Fall term choice of gym training and some mental stimulation offered by playing CHESS.  Neil took to chess with competitive vigor, representing his school in State and Regional competitions regularly highly placing and gaining a high ranking. 



He enjoyed the logic and strategy of the game, the attacking and defense and the challenging end game.  And he usually won!  I know as I played against him… and lost. 

Chess was a mental exercise for Neil and he seldom talked about his victories on the board. This was more a pastime enjoyment that barely gets mentioned in school records, but clearly influenced his later business negotiations, techniques and strategies.  An Irish chess player in business is dangerous.

The Boxer

Neil’s first love was basketball but that training shaped his body physically for other sports. Basketball for a 5’8” point guard requires exceptional ambidextrous (right and left handed) dexterity, footwork of a dancer and body faking movements that would leave opponents flat footed. When you are up against athletic giants you have to be quick, as well as, be able to shoot.

So from an early age Neil honed his movement skills which included both handed ball control, body and shoulder faking, and dance steps that would make a ballerina proud. 

In particular he developed strong wrists and triceps (the muscles at the back of the arm that extend the arm forward as in shooting a ball).  This gave him quick hand control and coupled with shoulder and body faking left opponents off balance and Neil pirouetting past to the basket.

In high school he spent the off-season in the local gym, working on strengthening his muscles with weights and punching bags. His dedication to workouts and obvious skills caught the eye of the gym coach who encouraged Neil to put the gloves on and to start swinging.

Of course Neil was a natural Irish indefatigable boxer.

His basketball dance steps, head fakes and sharp stinging punches decimated anyone stupid enough to step into the ring with him. His punches were stingers as they were backed with basketball jump shots that used his full body weight behind the brutal knuckles. 

Hooks were passes and upper cuts came up off the floor. Straight crosses were lunges to the basket. So his coach upped the game and registered Neil in the Junior Golden Gloves amateur boxing program.

Neil danced and tippy toed his way to a 24-0 record without a scratch by clearly out classing opponents. He was on direct line to a professional light weight boxing career.

His last fight was against a ranked Puerto Rican challenger where Neil again showed his prowess and skills, hammering the poor bloke with stinging punches and then the finishing right uppercut that pushed the jaw to the back of his head followed by a left to the temple. 

The poor guy was stone cold KNOCKED OUT before he hit the canvas!

The knockout was so bad that an ambulance had to come and rush the unconscious boxer to the nearest hospital. 

This was a traumatic shock to Neil. He had never KO’d an opponent so badly ever before. Innately concerned, Neil left the locker room still in his boxing shorts and shoes and with his hands still taped, he ran to the hospital to see if this poor fellow was alright. 

After what seemed forever, the doctor came out of the emergency room with the news that the boy was conscious again but suffered a concussion and probably should never box again.

The boy’s mother then approached the distraught Neil and thanked him for his concern, but rest assured that what happened was just part of the risks taken in the sport. There was no blame but more thankfulness as now perhaps her son would see the light and give up the sport and ease her worried heart.

Neil heard her words again as he walked back to the locker room, changed his clothes and then hung up his gloves, to never enter the ring ever again.

 Later In Life

Skills learned are never forgotten.  It’s like riding a bike, you still knowhow to fall off.

Well there have been occasions where Neil has had to rely on his pugilistic skills. It seems that various Cabal members are not too fond of being exposed and like to resort to sending thugs “to teach an old man a lesson.”

Sometimes one, two or three unsuspecting fighters show up in front of his house for some fun. When three showed up one day, Neil had a bit of neighborly help. When the first one attacked, Neil hit him with a straight right, sending him to the ground with a broken nose. 

His neighbor then blindsided the second idiot, putting him on the ground. The third antagonist then started his Kung Goo dance, high kicking and punching the air. 

Neil just grabbed a stick, whacked the nincompoop on the outside of this left knee and then on the right knee and as the stupid fellow staggered, he got clobbered on the side of the head laying him on the ground for a neighborhood kicking contest victory.

Then there was the crouching tiger hopeful who targeted Neil outside his house.  He had been waiting around, fake hiding behind magazines till Neil came out. Neil noticed him immediately as he was obviously staring at Neil and then went into that tippy toe shoulder shake that boxers do before a bout.  OH Boy… another one. 



So the fool comes charging at Neil who responds with a straight right between the eyes, cold cocking the guy who drops like a stone face first in the street.  Neil took one look and went back home. A few hours later Neil returned to the scene and the fool was gone except for a small pool of blood where he did his face plant. Hopefully the money was worth it.

But the Cabal still hasn’t got the memo and just a few months ago they sent another bruiser to Neil’s house.  This guy was a trained boxer but unprepared by thinking that a fat old man would be an easy score.  So here we go again… boxer dancing. 

Jab, jab, jab-jab, then the boxer moves into Neil’s right and he unloads on the boxer’s chin.  You could hear the loud clack as teeth grind together. 

The boxer retreated a few steps, then dropped his hands as a small crowd was forming, he then said to Neil, “That was a good one. I didn’t know that you had it in you. Maybe we will meet again someday and finish this.”  With that the last fight was over… hopefully.

Some skills do come in handy… but Neil would prefer to settle matters by shooting “horse” on a basketball court. He can still sink a long shot.

Basketball

Winter school season was always BASKETBALL for Neil.  As the team’s Point Guard, Neil was the Commander in Chief on Court. He controlled the game, knew the game, knew his opponents and their game. He PLAYED the Game.

And in high school he MADE His TEAM.

Neil actually recruited local star players to join his school so that they could play on Neil’s Team. He even went into the Black ghetto part of town where no White Boys dared enter and brought out 6’8” 250 lbs “Jimbo” to play on the White Boys Team. 



Jimbo wasn’t that good of a shot but his size allowed him to carve out HIS TERRITORY down by the basket.  He provided a screen or pick for other team members to get open shots from Neil’s quick passes.

Neil’s Teams were locally and regionally recognized and even summertime scratch games filled the bleachers. He even strolled through the Black neighborhoods greeting tough looking guys with a “Come on over to see Jimbo dance this Friday night!” 

“YEAH BRO” would come the reply to the only White Boy allowed on their streets. Neil was a one man Civil Rights leader in that part of town.  That was R.E.S.P.E.C.T.

For anyone who ever shared Neil’s table, you would surely have enjoyed one or more of his Basketball Tales. A few more follow, but there are hundreds more remembered by those that were there. Send in your favorite.

Baseball

Spring and Summer were Neil’s baseball season. From stickball in the streets to Little League teams and then to playing on big league diamonds it was swinging time.

Neil was a natural baseball player. His basketball training meant that he was quick with his hands and feet in fielding positions from shortstop to second base or his preferred first base position. But more important was his “switch hitting” ability.  Neil could hit right or left handed!

This switch hitting talent meant that he could change up depending on the pitcher’s throwing arm. Right handed pitchers throw curveballs that curve to the right, headed straight for a right handed batter’s head and then curve in across the plate. 



Batters only have a split second to duck back or swing. But left handed batters see the pitch curling in towards themselves and thus can better adjust their swing. The opposite is true for left handed pitchers.

Neil’s keen eyesight let him know which stance to choose and then see the spin of the pitch to determine how and where to swing. Sliders look different than knuckle balls, change-ups to fastballs.  And the pitches depend on the strike and balls count. 

Neil knew the game, the players and what to expect next. He was so good that friends would ask him what were his winning choices in major league games each week and then make book bets and tidy winnings.

In his senior year of high school Neil’s baseball abilities caught the interest of professional scouts who came to watch him play and then report back to their major league teams. One interested team sent their Coach and one of their major league pitchers to watch Neil play. 

After the game the Coach of the Milwaukie Brewers approached Neil, introduced himself and asked Neil if he was interested in a professional baseball career. “I heard that you were a pretty good hitter. Can you show me a bit? I brought along my own pitcher too.  By the way what is your batting average?”

Neil casually replied, “In league play I’m averaging around 800. A bit more left handed. A little less right handed.” (In baseball, hitting 300 (30%) is very good.  Hitting 400 is exceptional! And Neil was connecting 80% of the time!)

Neil said, “This aught to be fun.  Show me what you got.” So they entered the field with the Coach signaling the pitches and Neil standing there ready to swat flies.

First pitch Neil smacked a double off the left field wall.

The second pitch was a single in the gap over the pitcher’s head.

The third pitch was a perfect bunt down the left line.

The forth pitch was a line drive triple into the right field corner.

Then Neil called out, “Give me some heat!”  And pointed to the left center fence.

The crack of the bat sent that ball out of the park.

“Do you want to try a spit ball?” Neil joked.

The Coach then turned to Neil and asked, “Do you want to turn pro now? The offer was there.

Neil said, “No.”

Neil said to the Coach, “Baseball is fun but too slow. I’m lucky to touch the ball twice in a game. Whereas basketball is physically fast and mentally stimulating. That is my passion and where I go.”

The Coach smiled and said, “If you ever change your mind, I will buy the Cracker Jacks.”

Who knows how that could have turned out.

Copyright © 2025, GROUP K, Ltd.