I have a strong belief in the existence of karma. That’s why when I punched a kid in the face during my sophomore year of high school, I knew I’d get mine in the end. Then again, I was truly just enforcing karma, or its Irish equivalent: revenge. The infamous punch I’m referring to took place during a Bay High Tennis practice. While playing against a fatheaded fellow teammate, I accidentally gave him what’s called an “overhead.” Overheads are soft lobs that one should spike back onto his opponent’s court. When playing an opposing high school, we’d usually try to hit kids with our overheads – partly for intimidation purposes – but when playing a friendly intramural game, there’s no need for this violent act. My teammate apparently didn’t live by this code, however, and decided he’d aim right at my thin fragile torso. Although he’s a poor shot 99 percent of the time, he managed a direct hit.

At a speed of approximately 90 mph, a little tennis ball made contact with the two most important members of the male anatomy. In a blind rage, I threw down my racket, hopped over the net and served him a five-knuckle sandwich right to the mouth. At first, he raised his racket as if he’d hit me, but eventually put it back down, opting to instead hurl obscenities at me through his quickly swelling lips. The next day we were called into the office of the athletic director, and after an awkward conversation, I was placed on probation but allowed to continue playing tennis.

Now here’s where karma comes into play: About a year later I went to see The Bourne Identity with my friend John Johnson. I know that sounds like a made-up name, but I swear it’s real. In fact, his name is John Johnson Junior, or as I call him, Tre-Jay. So anyways, Tre-Jay and I are sitting in a crowded movie theater and laughing our heads off during the movie trailers. We were discussing the fact that the announcer in my FIFA 2003 game says that a goalie (after substituting his name) was “all over it.” This was especially funny because John liked to play with England, whose goalie is David Semen.

So right after I’ve just yelled, “Semen is all over it!” this middle-aged man sitting right next to me turns and says, “If you’re gonna sit next to me, you’re not gonna talk.” In my typical smart-ass way, I replied, “It’s only the previews, Chief.” Without hesitation, he belted me right in the face. For a few of the longest seconds of my life, my friend and I just sat there in silence. I got a bloody nose, but I was in way too much shock to feel any pain. Sitting to the man’s left was his wife, who began freaking out at him and eventually made him say, “I’m sorry,” to me, but I just gave him the cold shoulder. An extremely awkward five minutes of us continuing to sit side-by-side passed, but eventually his wife made them leave the movie. Who punches a 17 year-old kid in the face after so minor of an offense? Clearly, karma was at work.

A few months later, I happened to be with Tre-Jay at a Bay Soccer game in our rival team Westlake’s stadium. I hardly ever hung out with Tre-Jay, which makes these stories even stranger. After our team had barely won, Tre-Jay, me and three other kids were in a car leaving the crowded parking lot. John was in the front right seat, and I was in the back right seat. Both our windows are down and John yelled something derogatory at some big Westlake jock. He then, of course, quickly rolled up his window when the kid started to walk toward our car. I, however, was only half-paying attention to this encounter and had not rolled up my window. When I saw the jock out of my glasses-skewed peripheral vision, I started to lean over, but it was too late. The kid punched me right in the side of the face. I had done absolutely nothing to him, but I now had a bruised face, bent glasses and a discouraging realization that I could do nothing to retaliate. But like I said before, I believe in karma.

As it stands now, I’ve punched one kid in the face and been punched in the face twice. Karma will surely balance that 2:1 discrepancy, especially since the second punch to the face was not my fault. In conclusion, I’m due to hit somebody in the face, so don’t piss me off. Things you might want to avoid include, but are not limited to: not saying “thank you” when I hold the door open for you, cutting in front of me in the Myles Standish dining hall and being George W. Bush.

Rob O’ Reilly, a sophomore in the College of Communication, is a weekly columnist for The Daily Free Press. He can be reached at [email protected].