Nick's Hiss

Winter of 1989, I am 15.

Snowball fights are a big part of life during Chicago winters. Boys from area blocks meet in vacant lots where we create shallow foxholes and and construct found-object bunkers for snow-throwing war. 

It is all in fun, everybody is at the same level of ability to make, throw, and dodge snowballs. From time to time we get lucky shots where a snowball crunches into its target making us feel like masters of some realm. Until the next several missed throws reveals that we master no realms. 

Nick is a kid from the neighborhood who was not on the same level of ability. He is that somebody that you never want to egg on into any form of competition especially a snowball fight. I learned this the hard way.

A star athlete. Nick is on both the wrestling and baseball team. In a snowball fight, in a blink, Nick can turn a cupped handful of snow into a hard compacted snow-baseball.

Not only is he deadly accurate with rapid-fire ability but his snowballs are thrown with an intention and aggression. There’s something about hearing snow scrape through the air that gives pause about the seriousness of the game.

The worst part, this dude doesn’t even need to make snowballs and he doesn’t hide behind any structure. While we duck and hide Nick walks up the war zone relaxed with his arms to his side daring us to throw a snowball. For those who have tried they learn the that even if throwing with all your young might, without any effort Nick plucks their snowball out of the air, pats it twice, and sends it back singing that hateful hiss ending in an explosion of snow into the target.

It's something so humiliating and humbling about getting hit in the face with your own snowball that really makes you think twice about what you throw and who you “play” with.