THE POOLFIGHT
a short story by Joe Mack

First I was scared. Now I'm unhappy and who wouldn’t be? It's a hot Sunday afternoon, I finally get to the large public swimming pool to cool off, and I see a dozen men smack in the middle of it fighting. This was a scary thing to run into. And I am unhappy that at least thirty other people are swimming around, apparently ignoring it, lifeguards included. I am paying attention to the fight.

These men are throwing their hands and bodies into hard contact with one another. I see hammerlocks seized and resisted with great strength. The aim seems to be to force the other guy’s head underwater, repeatedly, and hold it there for at least the count of ten. It’s mayhem in the pool: it looks awful. A dunking happens to one man then another. Each time with muscled fury, and total silence. No man asks for mercy; none is shown. No fighter runs away.

I go into the pool and the closer I get the more this looks like combat. Right in front of me a group of men in their twenties jump on older, bigger guys, heavyweight contender size. Two put a death grip around a big guy’s shoulder or neck. A third or fourth young man grabs the legs. All tumble the big man to a dunking. This doesn’t work every time because other heavyweights wrestle the younger guys off. I’m beginning to see that there are two sides to this battle.

After each melee two lines re-form. There are six men in their twenties vs. four older ones. The sides stay close, separated by no more than four feet. The water level is mid-thigh. The action’s constant. There is no huddle. They just regroup and charge, or block the charge. They push and shove and grapple.

Sometimes the man in the middle is an obvious target but he is usually well defended. That’s when a massive smash happens. Each time one or two young men are the losers. They are cartwheeled into the water; their struggle churns it into foam. How would you feel about having your head held underwater?

Other times the young men are all splashing through the water toward the man on the flank. He is being separated from his protectors. He’s a quick victim. Almost regardless of size, I see his head being pushed and held underwater.

The lines charge quickly. The whole group moves around the center of the pool fast. The action is getting really close to me.

The biggest middle aged man, like 300 pounds and six foot six is the target of this charge and the pushing, slapping, grabbing, fracas swirls. He's resisting like a demon and the older guys are prying the younger ones off. He’s standing like a Goliath one second and then he’s going down, almost. They’re so close I can see the scratches on their backs and hear them huffing and puffing.

A lifeguard blows his whistle. The action stops. The combatants have moved too far into the non-combatants’ area. The big guy is still standing. I have been watching this for at least twenty minutes and now the older guys decide it’s a good time to go lie down on their towels.

Did I just witness a violent rite of passage? Were they playing a game or getting even? It’s a true story. It’s over. My head is swimming.

The end