In the interest of balance, I should start with the things Mayor Rob Ford has been fully truthful about.
He is absolutely right that he had me “like a cornered rat” on the land behind his backyard. He is absolutely right that I shouted for help repeatedly. He is absolutely right that I repeatedly asked him not to punch me. He is absolutely right that I dropped my phone and digital recorder on the ground. And he is absolutely right that I eventually took off running.
Right, right, right, right, right. And yet, in its big omission, his story is wrong.
Ford’s account omits the reason why I was cornered, why I shouted for help, why I thought he might punch me, why I dropped my trusty digital devices, and why I ran.
Disclosure: as Ford has strongly suggested, I am, uh, somewhat inexperienced in the art of mano-a-mano physical confrontation. The one and only “fight” of my life was a feeble five-second shoving match with Evan Sadofsky on a Grade 7 recess basketball court. I am a documentary-attending, Boyz II Men-singing former valedictorian devoid of identifiable muscle tone. Sources suggest I’m “soft-spoken” and “mild-mannered.”
At the same time, I’m well-versed in the confrontational verbal exchanges that are part and parcel of covering politics. I’ve had several with the mayor. I’d never once felt anything approaching fright during any of them. Part of the job, part of this big-boy game, and something I enjoy.
I’d also like to think I’m no wolf-crying pushover. I wasn’t scared covering a hurricane in the slums of Kingston, Jamaica. I wasn’t scared walking the refugee camps of the West Bank on vacation in March. I wasn’t scared when, during the Prophet Muhammad cartoon controversy in my pre-journalism life, I received threats from extremists in advance of an outdoor rally I organized in support of free expression.
I’m not at all ashamed to say it: on Wednesday evening, I was scared. And that’s because the mayor had me cornered indeed — after shouting at me, suddenly running at me with his fist in punching position, refusing to listen to my pleading explanations, then matching every attempt I made to sidestep him as if we were hapless shoppers in a grocery store aisle. He repeatedly demanded, still close, still menacing, his fist still raised, that I surrender my phone; he wouldn’t let me go until I did. Nobody else was in sight. Call me a wuss — and I know many of you are calling me a wuss — but this was frightening.
The mayor told NewsTalk 1010: “You know, honestly I was so upset, I didn’t know if I was going to hit him or not.” This was admirably honest. What the mayor didn’t explain to the radio listeners was that he made it obvious to me that he didn’t know if he was going to hit me.
The mayor has asked questions of the Star. I have questions of the mayor.
If he wanted me to leave the area, why didn’t he let me leave when I tried? And, more to the point, why didn’t he simply ask that I leave — he never did, contrary to his assertions to the media — rather than charging toward me in a puncher’s stance? Will he admit that he adopted a puncher’s stance?
Will he explicitly acknowledge that I was on public land, not his land? Will he acknowledge that our encounter occurred under full late-day sunlight? Will he recant his false claims that I leaned over his fence, stood on cinder blocks, and took photos or videos of his backyard?
I stood on nothing but grass. I never touched or leaned over the fence or made an attempt to look at his house. I filmed no videos and snapped three or fewer photos — from a significant distance away from the fence. I had no interest in photographing Ford’s family.
I understand fully why the mayor’s neighbours were concerned about my presence behind his property; the man has dealt with death threats, and they are protective of him. I understand fully why the mayor came out of his home with concerns. And I wish that I had not been confused, on account of a vague map, about whether he wanted to buy the public land behind his house or the public land adjacent to his house.
I also wish the mayor had, once he saw me, handled our exchange like the acquainted professionals we are. I also wish he would be truthful with Torontonians about what happened.
Ford has demanded that I leave the City Hall beat. I will stay on it. I hope our future interactions are, like most of our past interactions, courteous and mutually respectful. And I hope this is the last first-person story I have to write about us.
Original Article
Source: Star
Author: Daniel Dale
He is absolutely right that he had me “like a cornered rat” on the land behind his backyard. He is absolutely right that I shouted for help repeatedly. He is absolutely right that I repeatedly asked him not to punch me. He is absolutely right that I dropped my phone and digital recorder on the ground. And he is absolutely right that I eventually took off running.
Right, right, right, right, right. And yet, in its big omission, his story is wrong.
Ford’s account omits the reason why I was cornered, why I shouted for help, why I thought he might punch me, why I dropped my trusty digital devices, and why I ran.
Disclosure: as Ford has strongly suggested, I am, uh, somewhat inexperienced in the art of mano-a-mano physical confrontation. The one and only “fight” of my life was a feeble five-second shoving match with Evan Sadofsky on a Grade 7 recess basketball court. I am a documentary-attending, Boyz II Men-singing former valedictorian devoid of identifiable muscle tone. Sources suggest I’m “soft-spoken” and “mild-mannered.”
At the same time, I’m well-versed in the confrontational verbal exchanges that are part and parcel of covering politics. I’ve had several with the mayor. I’d never once felt anything approaching fright during any of them. Part of the job, part of this big-boy game, and something I enjoy.
I’d also like to think I’m no wolf-crying pushover. I wasn’t scared covering a hurricane in the slums of Kingston, Jamaica. I wasn’t scared walking the refugee camps of the West Bank on vacation in March. I wasn’t scared when, during the Prophet Muhammad cartoon controversy in my pre-journalism life, I received threats from extremists in advance of an outdoor rally I organized in support of free expression.
I’m not at all ashamed to say it: on Wednesday evening, I was scared. And that’s because the mayor had me cornered indeed — after shouting at me, suddenly running at me with his fist in punching position, refusing to listen to my pleading explanations, then matching every attempt I made to sidestep him as if we were hapless shoppers in a grocery store aisle. He repeatedly demanded, still close, still menacing, his fist still raised, that I surrender my phone; he wouldn’t let me go until I did. Nobody else was in sight. Call me a wuss — and I know many of you are calling me a wuss — but this was frightening.
The mayor told NewsTalk 1010: “You know, honestly I was so upset, I didn’t know if I was going to hit him or not.” This was admirably honest. What the mayor didn’t explain to the radio listeners was that he made it obvious to me that he didn’t know if he was going to hit me.
The mayor has asked questions of the Star. I have questions of the mayor.
If he wanted me to leave the area, why didn’t he let me leave when I tried? And, more to the point, why didn’t he simply ask that I leave — he never did, contrary to his assertions to the media — rather than charging toward me in a puncher’s stance? Will he admit that he adopted a puncher’s stance?
Will he explicitly acknowledge that I was on public land, not his land? Will he acknowledge that our encounter occurred under full late-day sunlight? Will he recant his false claims that I leaned over his fence, stood on cinder blocks, and took photos or videos of his backyard?
I stood on nothing but grass. I never touched or leaned over the fence or made an attempt to look at his house. I filmed no videos and snapped three or fewer photos — from a significant distance away from the fence. I had no interest in photographing Ford’s family.
I understand fully why the mayor’s neighbours were concerned about my presence behind his property; the man has dealt with death threats, and they are protective of him. I understand fully why the mayor came out of his home with concerns. And I wish that I had not been confused, on account of a vague map, about whether he wanted to buy the public land behind his house or the public land adjacent to his house.
I also wish the mayor had, once he saw me, handled our exchange like the acquainted professionals we are. I also wish he would be truthful with Torontonians about what happened.
Ford has demanded that I leave the City Hall beat. I will stay on it. I hope our future interactions are, like most of our past interactions, courteous and mutually respectful. And I hope this is the last first-person story I have to write about us.
Original Article
Source: Star
Author: Daniel Dale
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