Biker beating leaves star teen athlete brain-damaged

I love Randy like a brother.

Happy go lucky sort of chap. Met when we were both hired on at Saint John Shipbuilding.

Not the sharpest bulb in the toolshed, as they say, and I was shocked when I found out it hadn't always been that way.

If Randy had a flaw it was that he didn't know how to talk his way out of a fight. Or walk away from one.

There are lots of times of course when you don't need to, but if you've got your wits about you, you'll recognize the times that you do. If the odds are better than 50-50 that you're going to have the crap beat out of you, I say put plan B or C into action. Randy couldn't do that.

I saw that first hand one night when Randy and me and our apprentice Clayton were sitting around waiting for a painting crew. One of the painters, kid about 23 or so, mentioned he had a black belt in one of the martial arts. Randy took that as a challenge. They had a bout right there and then, which came out indecisive.

Well, next night, same thing, except kung-fu boy gets the upper hand. So almost every night after that, whenever we cross paths with the painters, Randy and the kid get to jawing at one another, and it usually culminates in a brief battle that goes one way or another. But you can see that this is heading to a place where they're going to have to settle it once and for all.

Now as for me, I'm closer to middle age than brawling age at this time, and I think the whole thing is stupid, but you don't want to let your buddies down. Clayton thought it was stupid too, but he knew the code.

Clayton was a young black kid built like an NFL running back. Played on my baseball team. Wasn't the kind of guy to take shit from anybody. Told me about one night in south Saint John he'd got into a verbal altercation with a fellow at a party. Clayton was on the sidewalk, Buddy was in the house, and like I said, they were verbally altercating.

At one point Clayton says, "oh, you are, are ya, you and what army", whereupon Buddy and six of his friends come out and proceeded to lay a thrashing on poor Clayton. Which was how Clayton came to see the wisdom of a plan B or a plan C.

So one night it's agreed that after our shift, which ended at midnight, kung-fu painter and Randy would settle things at the underpass on the tracks behind the yard. Have to admit I felt a little stupid being there, as did Clayton. Randy was at least fifteen years older than his adversary. That's fifteen years of smoking and drinking and indulging his love of the finest Bekaa Valley cheese.

Things turned out pretty much as I expected. Randy had experience on his side and looked good in the early going, but he couldn't match the stamina of a guy fifteen years younger who actually worked out and practiced. Randy tapped out, there's handshakes all around between the two crews, and me and Clayton walk Randy home.

After getting cleaned up and a few drinks in him, Randy starts in about how he really could take kung-fu kid. Well, geez, Randy, I thought we just settled that?

As I got to know him better, I figured out two things about Randy. He had a knack for antagonizing people, and he didn't know when to quit.

I also learned that Randy had been a star on his high-school track team back in Collingwood, and not only that, but he'd been an A student. That didn't jibe with the guy I knew.

Eventually we got the story. Randy was in his last year of high school. His future was brighter than bright. He could pick and choose between college scholarships. He was simultaneously in a bar at Wasaga Beach, a bar frequented by bikers from far and wide.

Randy had his eye on a couple of the ladies who had arrived with the bikers. These were full patch guys from out of town. Words were exchanged. Randy offered to settle things in the parking lot. They took him up on his offer.

Now, here is where I have to say that Randy was the author of his own misfortune. First of all, poor choice in seeking out female companionship. Secondly, once he got to the words-exchanged part of the story, he should have recognized the need for a plan B.

Randy held the school district record for the hundred yard dash. That could have been his salvation. Have you ever seen a biker run a hundred yard dash?

Randy went from the parking lot to the EU in an ambulance. When he came out of his coma the college scholarships were off the table.

Settled for an apprenticeship at the shipyard instead.