Movie Minutiae - The Birth of Johnny Betts
By Johnny Betts, Moviegoer Advocate
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We all know that Hollywood likes a happy ending. In most cases. The Wonder Years (one of the staples of my
childhood) was often an exception. How many people are still bitter that Kevin Arnold and Winnie Cooper didn't end
up together? Don't ask my sister that question because you'll never hear the end of her answer.
Many 'a time there'd be moments where little Kevin and his white boy 'fro would be on the verge of accomplishment, only to
have that rug metaphorically ripped from beneath him. Remember the episode where Kevin stood up to the bully, Eddie Pinetti,
in an effort to defend Winnie's honor? Kevin refuses to back down and mans up and takes a swing at Eddie. Slow motion kicks
in as we see the shock on Eddie's face combined with Kevin's fist heading towards it. Victory shall go to the underdog!
But then Kevin's punch lands harmlessly on Eddie's shoulder. Eddie smirks and proceeds to beat the crap out of Kevin. But never
fear, my loyal readers, for good ol' Johnny is here with a story from his own childhood where the underdog trumped the bully!
Let me take you all the way back to the 1st grade. There was a kid in my class named Wendell who was approximately seven feet
tall. Perhaps he was actually only about 6 inches taller than everybody else, but from a first grader's perspective he seemed
huge. I don't know if he had previously failed 1st grade and was thus older than everybody else or if he was just a freak of
nature. Whatever the case, his height advantage gave him confidence, and he seemed to enjoy picking on everybody.
His tactic worked. Everybody was scared of him, and that included me. Every time he walked past me he'd punch me in the stomach.
It didn't matter if I passed him in the hall or coming out of the bathroom, I always received a punch to my ripped midsection (I
started doing crunches at a young age). I'm sure it hurt his hand more than it did my stomach, but he continued to do it
nonetheless.
I tried telling my teacher, Ms. McDonald, about it, but she was a witch and didn't care. She said she didn't see him do it, so
there was nothing she could do. How nice. A scared little 1st grader approaches her with his concerns and she practically
flips him the bird.
In retrospect, I shouldn't have been surprised. Ms. McDonald was MEAN. Nobody liked her. There was even a rumor floating around
that the year before she had slammed some kid's head into his desk and busted his nose wide open. I believed it at the time. But
now that I've had 20+ years to reflect on that, I'm thinking that rumor probably didn't hold much truth. I also understand why my
parents didn't believe the story either. I remember telling them, "It's true! Some kid who was in her class said he saw it!" I
couldn't believe THAT didn't convince my parents. I distinctly remember them looking at each other with "Surely he's not this
naive" looks on their faces. Ah, the innocence of youth.
I did, however, experience first-hand just a taste of her cruelty, and oh how bitter the flavor. I once got sick during lunch and
threw up. When I went and told Ms. McDonald, her callous reply was, "Well I guess you better clean it up then." I'm not making this
up, folks. This ABSOLUTE WAINCH made little 6-year-old Johnny Betts clean up his own vomit. How cruel is that? This was public
school, so what can you expect?
Anyway, since Ms. McWainchold wasn't going to do anything about Wendell, I finally went to my parents and told them what was going
on. My dad laid it all on the line and said, "I don't advocate you starting fights, but if you've told your teacher and she won't
do anything about it, then the only thing you can do is hit him back. Next time he punches you, you punch him HARDER."
I didn't have to wait long to put my dad's advice into action. The moment of truth arrived the very next day. I was heading into
the bathroom just as Wendell was leaving. As soon as I saw him I could feel the butterflies in my stomach. This was it. If he
punched me then I had to stand up and be a man or forever cower in fear. I decided right then and there that I didn't want to be a
coward. I wanted to be the kid who stood up to Wendell and put an end to his bullying ways.
Then it happened. Wendell punched me right in the stomach, just like he always did. But this time the response he got was MUCH
different than usual. I cocked my fist back and threw it right at Wendell's face with all the strength I could muster. Feel free
to picture my adorable little 1st grade fist heading straight towards his over-sized head. BAM! My fist connected solidly with
Wendell's jaw, throwing him back a little.
Seeing that he was rocked, I moved in and rared back. That's when Wendell reacted like most bullies do when they're given a taste
of their own medicine. "Whoa, whoa, whoa! Let's be friends! Let's be friends!" was his high-pitched reply. I couldn't believe it.
WENDELL WAS A TOTAL WIMP! Either that or I was just A TOTAL STUD. Probably a little bit of both.
Instilled with a new sense of fear, Wendell pretty much followed me around like a puppy the rest of the year. Having his
self-confidence knocked down a notch or two convinced him that it was wise to stay on my good side.
I have no idea what happened to Wendell. The following year I went to private school where I stayed through the 6th grade. I
never saw or heard from him again. I like to think that he's out there living a productive life, one much better than if he had
never been confronted and changed of his bullying ways.
Many people like to refer to this incident as "The Birth of Johnny Betts," and it's hard to disagree with that assessment. When
people approach me in public and ask, "Hey Johnny, how old were you when you realized how big of a stud you truly are? Was there
a defining moment when you came face-to-face with your supreme coolness, a point where there was no turning back?" this is the
first thing to come to mind.
The "Wendell episode" represented more than just a moment in time; it has become symbolic of a lifelong philosophy - when life
punches you, you punch it HARDER. Maybe, like Kevin Arnold, you miss your target and receive a royal beatdown. Or perhaps you pull
a Johnny Betts and cause your bully to retreat.
It's your choice. Cower in the corner and allow your circumstances to control you, or come out swinging and put everybody on
alert that you're not one to be messed with.
I made my choice, and I'm now America's favorite movie reviewer and movie editorialist. Consider my example a lesson in
what rarin' back and movin' forward will get you.
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