“PUNCH-OUT POOL” – AN L.A. STORY

Punch Out Pool by Bart Saric

TALES OF A BACKYARD BANDITO


We couldn’t believe that there were no wheel marks in there. 2 sessions were hosted before the “Knock Out” occurred. Granted, those two sessions were just Forest and I. The session carried on as we tried to work the gritty, coral-like coping. I found myself attacking the coping & hanging up on a 3 blocker going for more, front-side. Falling with a delayed reaction, straight into a PALM and roll dismount. My artist hand was paying the hardest. I had hairline fractured a meta carpel & it forced a weavy river-like vein to emboss in the center of my palm. My day wound down paying back the coping with my hard cast metal trucks, while holding a now melting piece of ice dripping from the grips of my warm hand.

Bart Saric - LA Storiez
Bart Saric – LA Storiez

A busy five-day work week ensued before returning the following week-end. To share some of this backyard wealth, we invited 3 skate friends to shred with us. About an hour and a half after the session started, we were confronted by the owner and wife of this property. We didn’t know this until maybe 5 minutes into them shouting at us. They were hardly the friendly type and started in with an irate “ What do YOU think YOU’re doing here!!??” “Give me your driver’s license! .. Give It To Me RIGHT NOW!!”

He was a middle-aged man. Probably in his early forties, give or take a few. So, after trying a reasonably mannered approach, I noticed that we were getting nowhere with them and that more importantly, our session was getting shut down.


“We live next door and we own this property too! “ the owner exclaimed.
“We were robbed 3 weeks ago, now give me your I.D.’s…NOW!!” He was very demanding.


“ WHOAH!”….” We didn’t rob no one, man! We stumbled onto this pool and cleaned it out to skateboard. That’s all.” I replied. By now, three of my four friends were getting a bit nervous and started to gather their belongings together.


“We’re going to re-do this pool & now you’re damaging it!” he said with his
panties in full bunch.


So I had to add. considering, “technically speaking .. if you’re re-doing the pool, they’re going to have to re-surface it regardless.” He was feeling me press the issue back on him and demanded my identification again. Don’t know why he was gravitating to me. Nevertheless, I was feeling the beginning of the end ahead. “ I don’t have ID, sir…. and if I did, I wouldn’t give it to you anyway. Don’t worry, we’re out of here.”
With a desire for one last dance in my mind, the essence was in the moment. That’s when I took my last look into the deep end and in a hurry, jumped into my last run in this beauty of a bowl. “I’m going one last time.” Front side Grrrrind in the deep to a shallow, shallow pump and float sequence, into two backside ggrrrriinders on the two opposing deep pockets and on my way out of the shallow steps, hopping over to my backpack.

The owner was ‘hot’ and ‘on one’ and not getting anywhere with anyone. I was putting my HI-8 video camera into my backpack, on one knee, at that moment. When in the corner of my eye, I noticed the owner quickly advance right up to me. With no warning and to my complete surprise, he ended up
kicking me in the eye. Stone Cold Suckah Style! I was shocked to say the least. The instant after my head timidly shook a bit from the kick, is the instance of realization that I couldn’t believe that this guy had just physically gone there. So, without falling back and more stunned by the action than the blow, that’s when I noticed the homeowner immediately retreat. I raised myself up from my planted knee and away from my pack. He was now walking briskly with more pep in his step and looking back gauging his distance with mine. I swiftly stepped to his side, zeroing my attention and focus to his chin. As soon as I was close enough, I locked & loaded my fist like it was coming in all the way back from East L.A. I connected with the tip of this mans chin and jaw on point.

“POP!!”

Skaters Stay The Fuck Out!
Skaters Stay The Fuck Out!

He fell sideways from the angle of the blow. Falling into a supporting iron black fence and onto the dirt ground, below him. His reading glasses were thrown off his face, before he landed in a nap like position. That’s when I realized I was really pissed and ready to fight. Instead, this mans wife ran up to me screaming in my face for socking her husband. I never hit a female and swore to myself to keep it that way.


2 of our friends had fled already and apparently had drugs in their car, which was unknown to me. This paranoid confusion had allowed ample time for the owner, let’s just call him ‘Mr. Chin’, from here on out. OK. So, Mr. Chin came back to and got up and scrambled back to his real home next door. I grabbed my bag and followed him over there. At this point, I was ignoring logic. Wanting to finish what was started. My other two friends pleaded with me, “c’mon man, let’s get outta here!”


Chin’s wife ran back into their ‘real’ house. I yelled, “ c’mon back out here and finish what you started KOOK!”

The door opened one last time. “ We called the police”, he muttered and shut the front door. I followed Forest to his car and we left the whole scene, in every sense. On the ride home I noticed a little bruising built on the bottom of my right eye. It would seem like he had gotten a clean enough sucker kick on my lower orbital bone. But, the fact of the matter was, that this was to be the last time we’d get to skateboard that pool. This also doubled with the thought of how uncomfortable it was going to be for ‘Mr. Chin’ to chew his food for the next 2, or 3 weeks. I guess you could say it all paid out in pain.


This actually factual story goes out to all the new pools, that you don’t get to ride … again.