From the article:
Two guys in their early twenties come over to hang out, and they get on the next court. They place a large transistor radio at the foot of the net post and turn it on full blast. The music is so loud we can't hear Mom giving us instructions across the net. She asks them politely to turn the music down. They ignore her. They are screwing around, yelling and swearing. Mom asks them, again, to please turn it down or move over a court. They call her a *****. We keep playing. My grandfather, who is chief of the parks police, comes over.
Pops, as we call him, likes to watch us practice. He isn't happy with the guys next to us, but neither is he looking for trouble. We stop and watch as Pop approaches them.
"Boys, would you mind turning that down a little?"
One punk starts to bend down; I think he's going to turn off the music. Instead he throws himself at my grandfather, catches him off guard, and tackles him to the concrete.
The punk straddles Pop, grabs him by the shirt collar, and starts banging his head into the court.
I don't even notice my mom run over to help her father. When she goes to grab the young guy by the shoulder, he whirls around and punches her right in the mouth. Her teeth go flying. ... What teeth she has left in her mouth are shoved through her lips and gums.
...
In the emergency room, the doctors treat Pop's head wound.
Then it's Mom's turn. They pull out her last remaining teeth and she gets hundreds of stitches in her mouth.
...
She won't be able to pronounce any words for a month. She literally has to learn how to talk again. My mother will struggle with the injuries to her mouth until the day she dies, but she never complains or makes a big deal out of it.
(My take: His grandfather could have died. Even though he initiated the confrontation, it's too bad the grandfather had nothing with which to shoot the unarmed young man.)