Another year of sports…and my mother returns to Los Angeles.
I was growing mentally and physically. Not being as shy, having serious crushes on a girl at school. Making more friends with all the different activities and hobbies I was involved in.
My father bought us a weightlifting set
Strict weightlifting schedule with even more muscles
Seeing how much more muscle I was developing, now me and my brother Brian and my best friend Bryan were all working out together. On a new weightlifting set my father bought for us. Sometimes other friends would come over to workout as well, but most of them weren’t as dedicated as we were.
We weren’t getting jacked, and not taking supplements or anything like that. But we definitely weren’t scrawny little kids anymore. Our bodies were manning out.
Skateboarding fame
I was the new neighborhood skateboard superstar.
The leader of our skateboard crew had gone to college and the other older guys had gone to college. Leaving me to become the new group leader. But my skateboarding was now on a much different level.
I was a much more confident kid. Stronger and more experienced. Daring to do riskier and more dangerous jumps and stunts on my board. I had blossomed into the neighborhood superstar. I easily the #1 or at least top 3 skaters in my school…and the young king of my neighborhood. Even kids who didn’t skate knew who I was.
And when the big name pros came to skate in our neighborhood, they’d often notice me…a young Asian kid with talent (almost zero other Asians skateboarded)…and they’d ask me my name and shook my hand. Some would even record me (so I would appear in the “guest appearance” or “rising talent” section at the back of their skate videos).
Being invited to different skate crews.
Every morning, different skateboard crews (groups of 10-15 skaters, mostly kids) would come to my house and knock on my door asking for me. And my mom would come into my room saying, “Hey Johnny, some skaters are outside asking for you.”
Most of the time, I would come out and see that it was kids I knew. But even sometimes, it was kids who I didn’t even know at all. They had just known about me and found out where I lived, and wanted to invite me to skate with them. Having me skate with them in their group boosted their status for the day. Since they were showing up to different spots with a local celebrity.
And they were poor kids but they really treated me like a celebrity. They would pool in money to buy all my food (fast food burgers, street hot dogs, or pizza) and also pay for my public transportation (bus or metro). They made sure I never paid for anything. Many them would also ask me to sign autographs (usually on their board or t-shirt), or wanting to buy my shoes or even broken boards, thinking that I would become super famous one day.
The price (and pressure) of being a skateboard celebrity.
You don’t get to be a superstar for free. Sometimes we’d come to a play and someone would notice a really high and dangerous ledge, or huge set of stairs, or some other crazy obstacle. And it was only a matter of time before somebody would suggest “OH JOHNNY COULD DO THAT!”
If I ever told them I didn’t feel like it. They would just start chanting in unison….JOHN-NY! JOHN-NY! JOHN-NY! Imagine 50 to 100 kids or even more chanting your name….well yeah, you don’t get to cower out. You kinda have to do it.
And god forbid, there was another superstar kid who was there at the same time and did a dangerous jump. Well now, you have to do it too…since you’re the best one from your crew and have to represent your neighborhood.
But boy when I landed it, everybody ran around screaming…cheering and hoisting me up into the air like we had all won the World Cup. A dangerous price to pay, but one of the greatest feelings in the world. The legend of the notorious “Crazy Johnny” grew bigger with each passing stunt. Where kids were star-struck to meet me. And even my friends were showing off that they were my close friend (with people sometimes not believing them, because it sounded that unreal).
Breakdancing
I started breakdancing because I loved hip-hop music and doing cool stunts.
It was a great way to hangout with my friends and also meet some really amazingly athletic people. I absolutely loved using my body and pushing it to the limit (if you haven’t noticed).
More chess trophies
I started training myself in classical chess strategies.
Not as good as if I had a former-Soviet chess coach, but as good as I could do with the famous chess books…with all the openings and strategies that I could find. I was developing more classical skills instead of just relying on mental strength. Internally, I was becoming a deadlier threat on the chessboard. But from the outside, I still looked like a poor kid from the ghetto and I was proud to represent my school at the tournaments. Doing my best to beat the rich kids (and their big dollar coaches), like some kind of game of David and Goliath.
I also wasn’t humble anymore. I was kind of a troublemaker at tournaments. Mischievous not only for other players but also for our own team.
- Burger taunts with Hugo – since Hugo was a fat guy, I loved to eat a big sandwich standing right behind his opponent as he played. We all thought it was funny to mess with him. All in all, we were good friends and I respected him very much. He was incredibly smart, a good person, and a cool nerd that represented other nerds well. He thought I was funny and he thought I was talented chess player. There were even games were I lost against him, and he actually thought I lost the game on purpose to protect his ego. And he wouldn’t believe me when I told him I was playing honestly.
- Drawing on paper – I loved drawing random things on paper during games. But covering them so my opponents couldn’t see what the heck I was doing. They’d be somewhat distracted by my drawings and only after I had won the game and left the table, did they turn over my drawing paper in disbelief to see I was just writing and drawing junk (smiley faces and stick figures).
There were a few more notable tournament game stories to cover…
Verbal resignation offer.
There was a game I played against a good opponent (a Japanese guy), where both of us had our pieces twisted all around each others across the board. Any one wrong move and either of us could completely lose the game. This chaotic game held the curiosity of many spectators, one of them being my coach (Steve). Each waiting anxiously to see how the board would blow up.
As the game slowly unravelled, my opponent fell perfectly for one of my tricks…and I could see that he was going to lose within 3 moves. But he couldn’t see it.
- So I devilishly smile across the table and asked him, “Do you want to resign?”
- My coach’s face immediately turned bright red in embarrassment and anger, as he held himself from shouting at me. (Spectators, especially coaches, aren’t allowed to interfere during games.)
- My opponent was shocked as well by my bold behavior. He made a disgusted sigh and quickly replied, “No!” in a of-course-not manner.
- So then I made my next move.
And with this move, he studied the board for a few minutes before realizing that he had no escape. Without saying anything, he simply tipped his king over (a gesture of resignation) and got up and left the table. No handshake or final greetings of “good game”. All the spectators left as well, probably thinking I was an unsportmanly menacing brute.
My coach immediately ran over to me after this. Telling me it was really disrespectful and that I should not ever ask someone to resign. It was too cocky, rude, and disrespectful to the opponent. I agreed never to do it again.
Pawn checkmate revenge.
There was a tournament where me and a teammate (Moises) were sitting next to each other in one of the rounds. And our opponents were also not only each other’s teammates, but actually siblings. They were 2 white kids from a rich school (I think Pacific Palisades neighborhood, and their dad was their coach…a very intelligent and well-educated looking man).
Moises was playing against the older brother. And I was playing against his younger sister. This chess family was respected in the chess circles, and since both their boards were right next to each other…it was convenient for many people to spectate. Both of them looked smart and well-off. Me and Moises looked like street kids. Moises kinda looks like a Latino gangster.
The older brother absolutely demolished Moises. He seized control of the game early and checkmated Moises early. Moises never had a chance, any mistake he made early on was taken advantage of…with no chance for him to regain position. It was a grand display of pride of pedigree against prayer and poverty, hahaha.
On my board, I was the dominant one. I had stolen the sister’s queen early and nothing she could do. She was down on pieces and position. Although she tried to play smart, it was really only a matter of time.
The only problem was…I was in a revenge mood.
So I took as long as possible. With her brother and father, and all the spectators watching. I completely wiped out all her pieces. Then pushed her king all the way into the corner, and slowly (and diabolically) marched a pawn down to win by pawn checkmate. Upon finally losing, she uttered “Yeah, you coulda ended this game much sooner.”
But I was so pleased and amused with myself. Me and Moises laughed at my pawn checkmate. Once again, coach Steve came over to lecture me about sportsmanship again.
The Romanian Rado.
They often have long breaks between the rounds at chess tournaments. To give players a chance to relax, use the bathroom, get something to eat, and stretch their bodies out. Playing chess is really not only mental but super super physical. You are thinking so hard and body is so tense as you worry and worry about every position and move. After a day of tournaments, I actually sleep even more than if I was coming home from a full day of skateboarding. Chess is super taxing on the body.
And during these chess breaks, many people also like to play each other for fun. Usually with shorter times and less care over the game. Just moving and talking casually. During this break period at one tournament, I met a really nice Romanian guy who was super friendly and chatty. We would talk and laugh at things as we played several games. He was a good sport and always in a positive mood as I beat him 3 times. Right as we were in the middle of the 4th game, and his chance to “finally get his revenge” as he said…they announced the boards for the next round. We shook hands and wished each other good luck (without exchanging names) as we both ran off to go look at the boards.
Scanning the boards, I found myself…it something like:
- BOARD #45 – (WHITE) Johnny Nguyen of Belmont High School vs (BLACK) Rado [something] of Wilson High School
As i walked over to board #45, I was surprised to see my new friend already sitting there on the black side. As he saw my approach the table, he said “FUCK!” and we both laughed. He didn’t feel too good about his chances with me considering I had already beaten him 3 times.
Although this was a serious game and he tried harder, Rado lost this time just like the others. We shook hands and I told him I thought he had a really cool name. For many years after this, I often nicknamed myself as “Rado” or “AgentRado” in online games.
Track & field loser
I joined the track & field team for a girl.
I was madly in love with a girl named Annie L. And walked her to class (between 3rd & 4th periods) everyday at school. I was dying to spend whatever amount of time with her. We sat next to each other in homeroom and classes, and even flirted a lot. But she had a boyfriend and I was still too shy around girls anyway.
One day she mentioned she was in track & field and they need more runners on the team and I said, “oh I like running” and she said “then you should join”. And so I joined the track & field team right in the middle of the season. It was all hilarious because the truth was I hated running and wasn’t even good at it. I didn’t have endurance. As i went to the track & field coach (Robert Zuniga) to ask if I could join the team, he asked me straight out “do you like running?” And I couldn’t even give him a straight answer. So he asked me again and I replied, “I can try.” And that was good enough for him.
Being the slowest in training.
There’s track & field (short distance events like sprints, hurdles, and jumps) and then cross country (long distance events). Being that I don’t have endurance, I was gonna last in cross country. Besides, our cross country was one of the best in the state anyway. So I was put in track & field with the short distance sprinters.
If you haven’t watched the Olympics…the sprint events are the 100m, 200m, 400m, hurdles and jump events. All the sprinting is mostly huge big black dudes with tons of explosive muscle. And also some hispanics and white guys with good genetics as well. Almost zero Asians. Much like skateboarding, Asians just don’t do track & field either.
Sure I had more muscles coming in, but I was still a short Asian kid. I wasn’t long and strong enough to compete. And it sure didn’t feel good coming in last everyday in front of my high school crush. Hahahaha.
Asking my parents for sprinting spikes (shoes).
Sprinters need spikes to run during training and competition. It’s shoes that have little metal spikes on the bottom to grip the ground. When I asked my parents if they could buy my spike shoes, they asked me “what sport is that for?” Once they understood I was doing track & field, a notorious sport for black dominance…they flat out said, “NO! We’re not buying shoes for you to be a loser. You’re not going to beat those black kids anyway.”
It really stung to hear something like that from my parents. Yeah, i wasn’t delusional about outrunning a giant black dude. But I thought my parents would have more pride me, their own blood creation. That they might have even falsely believed maybe their own kid could do it. Instead they shut the door of self-esteem opportunity in my face. They sounded just like they always have….”no, never, you can’t do it, you’re not good enough, you’re gonna fail”.
I was already accustomed to this and I simply moved on. A friend from the team named Jaeger (another name I thought was super cool) would give me his old spike shoes. With my very own hand-me-down spike shoes, I ran track happy as a clam. I didn’t care if i lost everyday.
My first competition race (400m event against Taft High School)
Since I was new to the team, I didn’t have an event yet. Usually runners pick their events at the beginning of the year during practice where they try each event and then pick the ones they liked most (or performed better at). I was just a floating body on the team.
One day the coach said, “We have a big meet this weekend against Taft High School. And we have a position in the 400m. Anybody who wants to try, come see me.” I immediately went over to Coach Zuniga to ask him if I could do it.
- He stopped and looked me dead in the eye, same look like when he asked me if I liked running.
- He said, “Are you sure you can run 400m?”
- I replied, “I can try” in a sing-songey tone.
Once again, it was good enough for him. But oh boy…was I in for a shock.
There are a few things I needed to know (and would soon find out) about the track meet this weekend:
- The 400m sprint is an extremely hard race! It is absolutely brutal and exhausting. You’re running near peak sprint speed for a really long time. (400m is the event where you run just 1 lap around the track.)
- Taft High School is a legendary school of beasts. It’s pretty much an all-black school in a black neighborhood. Not only do they already tons of talent, but their team also steals the best athletes from other schools. All their sports teams make it to the state championships every year. They are among the most dominant if not THE most dominant track team in California.
Oh and one more thing. Their school is fucken ghetto and trashy, full of trashy ghetto people. As I would soon find out during the race.
When they announced the 400m event, I stepped out onto the track in disbelief. Holy shit, the other runners were fucking huge. Tall and muscular…built like explosive machines. They looked like Olympic medalists already, not high school kids. I was the only tiny Asian kid running against 6 giant black guys. 1 was from our school, 5 were from Taft.
When the gun blew, I jumped out of my blocks like everybody else did. I was positioned far ahead on lane 7, right on the curve. I pumped my arms and legs as fast as I could…feeling like I was keeping relatively good pace with the group. The crowd roaring loudly on both sides. Taft crowd on one side of the track and Belmont crowd on the other.
But actually I was making my first mistake. You’re not supposed to blow your energy on the curves, because they eat up more energy than the straightaways. As I was finishing the first curve…I was already tiring. My legs were slowing down as all the other runners blew past me.
Then I made the second mistake. I kept pushing even harder to try to keep up with the pack. So as not to lose too badly. But this actually only exhausted me more. I was now completely exhausted and out of gas only halfway through the race. The pack was leaving me behind so badly. Like….really really bad. They were all nearly 100m ahead of me.
And as I ran past the first straightaway, I was passing the Taft crowd as they all laughed and cussed at me. A gigantic crowd of loud black people jumping and laughing, pointing fingers at me. I remember one kid who was laughing and pointing his finger at me “HAHAHA! YOU LITTLE BITCH!”
I was so mad, I wanted to say or do something back to him but I was so exhausted already. So I just kept running. When the other runners finished the line…I still had more than 100m to go. It was SOOOOOOOOOOO bad. They actually started putting out the hurdles on the track for the next event but my coach had to yell out that there’s still one more runner.
As I past the final straightaway, which in front of the Belmont crowd. Everybody was so ashamed and embarrassed for me. Not a single person said a word or even made eye contact with me. It was so humiliating. Everyone was quiet like I had died. When I walked up to the bleachers to to sit down and collapse, people moved out of the way without looking at me. No words said (like “good job” or “good race”) like they told the other runners. I came to sit next to my crush, Annie. I even asked her…”did you see my race?” And she said yes.
Everybody in my race ran the 400m in 50-56 seconds. I came in at 1min13 seconds. Basically a whole 17 seconds after the next slowest guy. Hahahahahah. SOOOOOO embarrassing.
My losing streak continued.
I was taken off the 400m sprint event and all future sprint events for the rest of the year. And I never complained. I had embarrassed the school enough.
Instead they put me in the long jump and triple jump. An event that isn’t so public and also a common place where many teams dumped their weakest athletes. Jumping is still quite fun to do and requires skill and training. But jumps are done one (athlete) at a time so you aren’t seeing such a clear comparison between the athletes.
It was in the jumping events that I often met other weaker athletes, sometimes even the occasional less-athletic Asian like myself. And it became a mini battle between me and the other weak guy to see who was NOT the weakest. Hahahah.
Even still, I was almost always last place in every event for every competition no matter how hard I tried or trained. I made lots of friends and it was widely known that I was the “friendly last place Asian guy” in the team. I was convinced I just didn’t have the genetics for track & field, but I still liked the training anyway. And loved pushing myself against tough competition. You could even argue that I was a masochist for submitting myself through such ego torture. But I didn’t care.
The bonus was also that I got to spend more time with Annie, running alongside her during training (since I wasn’t fast enough to keep up with the other boys).
Changing family dynamic
Brian and Harry are both in a black school
My younger brothers are now both in a good school in an ethnic neighborhood. It was formerly a Jewish neighborhood but was now a black neighborhood. And had an odd mix of white, Jewish, black, and korean kids. Also had an odd mix of well-off as well as poor kids. But for sure it wasn’t not as ghetto as mine. Since it had white kids whereas mine had none.
Both my brothers were doing well, getting good grades, and active in school through clubs and extracurricular activities. They had lots of friends of all backgrounds and also got to hangout in a much better neighborhood (where the school was), whereas my school was in my neigborhood.
My mom applied for me into their magnet program again and again, but they wouldn’t take me. She gave up anyway. Since I already had friends at Belmont and liked it there.
Meeting the cousins (father’s side)
As we got older, we would visit my cousins and they would visit us. It was always fun to adventure in different places. We lived in California and they in Florida. We would all hangout together and share stories of dysfunctional families. It was fun to talk to other kids who could totally relate to our childhood experience. Each were developing into their own unique person. I display their age difference from me below.
Bitch’s kids:
- Anthony (+1) – a really cool rebel kid, funny and extroverted. Did tae kwon do, airsoft, paintball. Had lots of friends.
- Christine (-2) – sexy girl, sweet and funny. Was best friends with Annie. And close to me and Brian.
Scarface’s kids:
- Virginia (+2) – nice, kind of square and matriarchal figure. Technically the kid was the most authority since she was the oldest child of the oldest sibling. But she wasn’t the oldest…so she, Marc, and Thy often sat around like there were the grown-ups of the cousins.
- Bill (0) – same age as me. Widely known as a troublemaker, had an asshole personality (which he seemed to relish), and hated by just about everyone (especially his sisters).
- Annie (-3) – same age as Brian. Smart and sweet, kind person.
- Nina (-4) – nerdy in her young years and then turned out super pretty when she grew out of her ugly duckling stage. Super smart, also a princess.
- Anna (-5) – same age as Harry. Young sexy party girl who drank a lot. Kinda overdid it and sometimes came home too drunk (or blacked out) from her underage high school parties.
James Bond’s kids:
- Marc (+10) – old enough that he’s almost like an uncle more than a cousin. Was a cool guy, good looking and charismatic. Was a ladies guy in his younger years, but was solidly in relationships by the time we were hanging out with him.
- Thy (+5) – very intelligent, perhaps the smartest and most accomplished of our family. Also a difficult person to be around (picky & bitchy, and princess). Some cousins liked or tolerated her. Others argued openly with or secretly hated her.
The only other uncle with kids was the Gambler, but his kids Nolan and Vina were still super young and already lived in California.
My evil twin (Bill)
Bill and I had the unfortunate fortune of being born in the same year and looking somewhat similar to each other. I was born on August 26 and he on October 31. Due to his birthday and unpleasant personality, everyone often referred to him as the monster. To this day, there are still many horrible stories I keep finding out….that family members tried to keep secret to protect his family’s image.
Because we were similar in appearance and age, everyone always compared us. Oh Johnny did this. Oh Bill did that. Non-stop comparisons kind of forced us to be rivals instead of just being friends. When we were younger, we played together easily as friends. But as we got older, we stopped getting along.
Mom changes schools again
My mother missed us, and everybody kind-of missed her.
After 2 years of complete (infidelity) freedom, my dad pestered my mom to apply to USC again. They let you re-apply 2 years after your last rejection. Even though my dad loved being able to bring over Mai, he missed having someone to cook and clean the house and take care of the kids. I don’t believe he missed my mom, but that’s probably what he said to get her to come back. She missed her kids.
I can’t say me and my brothers missed my mom, we loved having our freedom to do whatever we wanted after school and living without parental supervision. My dad was almost never home. But we did hate my dad’s cooking and missed our mom’s cooking.
I will say that I remember speaking to my mom one day when she called home from Philadelphia, that she sounded old. It made me sad to hear her voice again. Like she was getting old from all that studying. Her white hair was also coming in.
My mom reapplies to USC.
Although my mom wanted to come home to LA, she was also indifferent. She had already spent 2 years in pharmacy school and had only 2 years left to become a pharmacist. Getting into dental school would throw away those 2 years. But she figured it wouldn’t hurt to reapply and just keep her options open.
So once again she applies. And once again, they accept her application and wanted to interview. And once again when she arrived to the school for her interview…they said, “We’re sorry. All our interviewers are busy today. You’ll have to interview with the dean of the dental program.”
It was a cascading series of deja-vu all over again.
Although you would think having the same dean in front of the her, and same or even more pressure to succeed would break her into choking and saying nothing again. It didn’t go anything like that.
Because as she later explained to me. Being in Philadelphia helped her improve her English so much. There was no Vietnamese people anywhere there. Only white people. So she had to speak English every single day. She also didn’t care much if she got in or not. And so she walked into there carefree and confident.
She told the dean, more or less…
- Look. I’m an immigrant and war refugee. Who escaped from Vietnam to Italy.
- I left Italy for the United States to marry a guy who I thought was in love with me, and had a house and fancy job.
- But turns out he’s just a liar a cheater. He had no money and we now live in a horrible neighborhood. And his family treats me terribly as well. Our culture just doesn’t respect women in general.
- I’m stuck in America with no way to provide for myself.
- I want to escape from my situation and so I’m seeking higher education to do this.
- I learned to drive, I learned English, learned how to use a computer, and I’ve endured through all these years going to school and studying while raising 3 boys by myself, while my husband sleeps with (someone I thought was) my friend.
- Becoming a dentist was a childhood dream of mine. But it’s also my dream today.
She spoke clearly, confidently, and with conviction. The dean thanked her for her time, shook her hand, and said “we’ll let you know”. My mother walked out that door not knowing or caring if her interview was good enough. But she was happy that it went so much better than the first time.
My mother gets accepted into USC’s dental program.
The dean was moved by my mom’s interview. He wanted to accept her but he couldn’t get through to her. All his phone calls to the house went unanswered during the day. Since my dad wasn’t home, the kids were at school, and my mom was in Philadelphia.
The dean also sent letters but my father didn’t bother opening them. They looked like the hundred other letters she regularly gets from different universities. The dean was desperate and trying to find a way to reach my mom.
And luckily he did. He emailed her saying “HEYYYYY! You’re accepted into our dental school! Please confirm your acceptance ASAP because I’m holding the last spot for you. I can’t hold it much longer, and will have to give it to someone else if you don’t reply! Please please….I want this spot for you!”
My mom received the email, and the incredible news passed through all of our family.
My mother…now 42 years old…was just accepted into the University of Southern California dental program. A highly-respected profession from a highly respected school. A mother of 3 and now soon to have the highest degree in my father’s family. We were all proud for her. And she was happy to come back to LA.
For better or for worse, we were going to have a mother again.