My father and his friend were jumped by a gang after a baseball game, in the 50's. I don't recall where, because I was too young to remember, but it was possibly near Yankee stadium in the Bronx, the the Port Authority bus terminal in NYC. This was in the 1950's, and we lived in Brooklyn. The gang used, among other things, 2 X 4's with nails in them, and chains. My father's "friends", who had come down from upstate NY, were in a bus, and wouldn't open the door or get out to help him and his buddy. The whole thing apparently had started when one member of their group had words with one of the gang members. My father and his friend were very strong, but it just was too many guys to handle. After coming out of the hospital, he looked so bad he couldn't go upstate to see his mother for a year.