My brother would often ask me to play football with him and
at first he would go in goal and let me have a few shots but then it would his turn to take shots that’s what he
really wanted to get into. I would have
been about four when we started this game and he would been around sixteen. He would
take a run up and would kick the ball so hard at me it would smack me in the
face and send me flying back into the hedge. As I was rubbing my face in agony he
would laugh and go ooooh sorry pretending it was an accident but I knew even
back then he was kicking it as hard as he could on purpose.
It happened every
time we played and I wasn’t allowed to refuse to play with him and in the end I
developed a fear of footballs. I would be a nervous wreck when it came to
playing with my friends, I would try and hide my fear so I could play with the
lads (and not be singled out for ridicule) but I always felt nervous when the
ball was being kicked around, it wasn’t until he left for university and
stopped being hit in the face so often that the fears started to subside and I
could play without having nervous ticks and rapid heartbeat.
I was also good target practice for when he was practising
his martial arts, he would call me into the sitting room and ask me to hold his
punch bag then walk to the other side of the room, I would say why you going to
the other side of the room and he would say just keep still and he ran the full
length of our large sitting room and fly kicked me with all his might which
sent me flying back through the doorframe taking the wind clean out of me, he
was twice my size and the force of it left me on the floor barely able to
breathe. I was often forced to be his sparring partner and he never held back
not once and he always pretended to be sorry whilst rolling around laughing at
whatever damage he caused me.
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