This photo was taken by me at an equestrian event in the Netherlands. It was either in or near the city of Breda. My goal was to test out my fancy new 100 megapixel camera and to have a fun day watching various events. I’d never been to an equestrian event before, but it seemed like fun.
A few hours after I got there, I asked one of the organizers for permission to take photos from a hill with a good view of one of the events. She gave it to me, along with a few dozen other photographers already there, and I went up the hill. For thirty minutes or so, I took photos. Then, a sudden burst of pain in my right thigh caused me to fall over, almost dropping my camera. The audience gasped in horror as I went down.
Another photographer, apparently, had wanted to stand where I was squatting and had kicked me out of the way. It wasn’t a light kick. It was savage. I had seen the photographer earlier, but was unaware of his interest in the spot I was using. The hill had a ridge about 75 meters long, with plenty of room for everyone. The guy was yelling at me, so I decided to leave. However, I had a long lens and took a picture of him after I’d reached a safe distance.
I told the organizer that the man had assaulted me and suggested they kick him out. A little later I heard a message in Dutch come on over the loudspeakers. It seemed to be about me, but I’m not sure what was said because my Dutch isn’t that good.
There were plenty of other events, so I looked around for something else to shoot. However, the more I walked, the more my leg hurt. I decided to leave early. Riding home on my bike was excruciating. At home, I discovered a huge bruise, about the size of a large boot, already turning all sorts of not very pretty colors.
I worried my leg might have been fractured, so I went to the doctor. Because of the way the kick was delivered, which was more of a downward stomp than a sideways kick like we see in soccer, more force was applied than would otherwise be true. The man had slammed his boot into the top of my leg, about in the middle, with enough force that it could have conceivably caused more than the visible damage.
My doctor gasped at the size of the bruise. “You should call the polizei. That is a serious assault.” he said.
I didn’t feel like it. It seemed to me that the leg would heal up soon enough, but the guy who kicked me would still be the kind of person he was (not good) so I’d let it go.
At school the following day, I had to explain to my students why I was limping around. Several said heartwarming things like, “if I’d been there, that guy wouldn’t be kicking anyone for quite awhile.” They also wanted to know who it was, but I only had the picture, no name.
That night, for fun, I got the picture of the malefactor out of my camera and posted it to a social media page my students knew about. “This is the reason I’m limping” I wrote. “This guy kicked me at the horse show. I’ll be back to normal in a few weeks.” The post simplified the explanations I had to make to every class of students as the week wore on.
About a week later, I was surprised to learn that my students had organized a digital manhunt for the guy. They found him. He was arrested, brought down to “headquarters” and questioned.
The police asked what I wanted.
“I want him to go to psychiatric counseling for at least a year, at his expense.”
That seemed a reasonable request, but instead, he had to pay for my doctor’s visit. It was about 250 euro, because of the x-ray. No fracture, so the news was good there. Still, I much preferred the idea of sending this guy to counseling.
My attacker clearly had an anger management problem. Making him talk about it in a safe space probably wouldn’t cure him, but it would infuriate him in a place where he couldn’t afford to fully express himself. I liked the idea of that. Sort of like a practical joke to make up for the kick. It was not to be.
What makes me think of this is that I was going to give up. My students found the guy for me. I didn’t ask them to, and they didn’t let me know they were doing it until they were close. The police told me that the man was notorious for disruptive and sometimes violent behavior. He photographed horses for a living, but had been banned at some events due to his antics.
As I saw it, the reason I got kicked, and probably many people after me, is that the punishment for this man was always light. I have a feeling that if certain of my students had been with me that day (and a couple were quite imposing, much like American football players), he wouldn’t have dared. If he had, he would have been turned into a Gumby doll and never would have dared again.
By increasing the risk associated with antisocial behavior, the behavior is modified.
In America, our reluctance to properly punish bad behavior has caused it to run amok. We’re running out of people who haven’t been kicked, and need to start holding the malefactors fully responsible for what they’ve done. I have very little sympathy for people who abuse the power of their offices, for instance, to persecute innocent rally attendees, or illustrious former presidents.
It’s amazing how much damage is caused when nothing is done in the face of danger, or by pretending the danger doesn’t affect everyone.
PS: I haven’t been posting as much this week due to a cold and a lot of election-research work.
It is a wonderful photograph. I am glad your leg has/is healing and a lesson for all of us shared. That your student cared for you so much overcomes the pettiness of the kicker. Poor guy has to live with himself. Uck. If only he knew how miserable his anger makes him and those around him.