My son read an NBA player from our area used to have his father drop him off in tough minority areas to play basketball and learn how to be tough and physical. At fourteen my son got on his bike and headed into a questionable neighborhood on the edge of the city.
When he came home his eyes were open. He called a foul getting knocked to the ground going to the hoop. A guy leaned over him.
”You ain’t dead, is you?”
”No. But he knocked me off my feet.”
”If you ain’t dead there ain’t no foul.”