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This is a question Sporting Woe

In which we ask a bunch of pasty-faced shut-ins about their exploits on the sports field. How bad was it for you?

Thanks to scarpe for the suggestion.

(, Thu 19 Apr 2012, 13:40)
Pages: Popular, 8, 7, 6, 5, 4, 3, 2, 1

This question is now closed.

I came 2nd from last in the egg and spoon race

(, Thu 26 Apr 2012, 13:38, Reply)
unrelated post - Chernobyl commemoration
26 years ago today, this joke was popular at school:

Q: Why don't you wear boxer shorts if you're a Russian?
A: 'Cos cher nob'll fall out
(, Thu 26 Apr 2012, 13:12, 1 reply)
cripple baiting
One sportsday, Scott Ruthven had his broken leg in a cast up to his hip. We non-participants - asthmatics, anaemics, conscientious objectors, geeks - stole his crutches and spent the day larking about with them as he lay on the damp grass wailing for us to return them.

He failed all of his GCSE's. Survival of the fittest, innit.
(, Thu 26 Apr 2012, 13:09, Reply)
Pretty Fly For A White Guy
I once went on a paragliding day, with a group from work. At first I found it rather tricky to get the glider up and facing the right way to run and take off. But on my 3rd* attempt it all came together, and for the first time in my life I was actually flying!

Look at the ground fall away! Look how small those badger holes seem! Feel the air rushing past me! Wow this is so amazing that I've completely forgotten to adjust my position for landing! Look how close the ground is now! Look how sloppy the cow-pats that I'm sliding through nose first like a shitty snow-plow are!

I must have slid face-first for fifty metres, through a field which the cows had clearly decided was THE in place to shit in this season. When all was still, the wing had fluttered to the ground and the build-up of shit had florped off my forehead with a wet splushing noise, I thought, hm, I hope no-one noticed that. I looked up to find a semi-circle formed of everyone else in the group, pointing and laughing.

I didn't take up paragliding, strangely.

* Probably more like 53rd

</pearoast>
(, Thu 26 Apr 2012, 11:30, Reply)
I would have been amazing at football
Had we been allowed actual footballs in school. We werent allowed them because - to quote our headmaster at the time "they could poke someones eyes out"

Instead we found other objects to play football with. Usually crushed cans, empty Panda pop bottles, short sticks, stones, basically anything that could be kicked.

I remember having my trousers sliced open on the edge of a crushed 7-up can as someones shot took flight to shin hieght.

Footballs though? with their bouncy soft outer skin.. no way.. that could hurt someone.
(, Thu 26 Apr 2012, 11:23, Reply)
School report.
Friend of mine managed to miss most of a year of PE due to housemaids' knee spending the lessons in the library and his school report still said "M makes a valued contribution to PE lessons." As M was more academically minded perhaps that was accurate.
(, Thu 26 Apr 2012, 9:19, 1 reply)
Sportsmanship.
Or lack thereof.
I coach my daughter's soccer team (under 8's) and have done so for a couple of years now.
I've seen 7 yo. kids show some truly amazing compassion towards another human being and I've seen grown men & women behaving like spoilt little fucking brats.

We used to play 1 particular team who had 1 particular player who was known for his agro. Even his own coach couldn't abide him but the snot's dad was on the committee etc. This 7 yo. kid managed to clothes-line (run past an unsuspecting player with your arm outstretched and bang them on the noggin on the way past) one of my players and KO'd him. & I do mean he knocked my player out cold. 7. I wasn't reffing that game but stopped play when the volunteer parent referee approached me about how to handle the situation.
His old man didn't like me sending his kid off for bad conduct and some shouting ensued. (the refereeing for Small Sided Football (link provided for Rory as he can't seem to figure out google..yet) is conducted by volunteer parents/siblings & fairly adhoc and as the home ground coach I had the final call). Meanwhile my team, snot's team (sans snot) and the TKO's team had gathered around him and organised spare bibs as a pillow, a drink for the kid and were helping the parents explain what had happened to the ambos after they'd assessed him. TKO was shoulder carried off the ground to applause from both teams.

A couple of weeks later we were playing snot's team again. I gave him a verbal warning for shoving and then later (as per the rules) told him to sit out the game for rough conduct. Snot's dad was on me like a Viagra patch on the old fella during the Annual Hooker Visit at The Elderly Gentleman's Home. [Pun intended]
I tried as calmly as possible to tell him to take his child & leave the ground as his behavior was inappropriate. By this time my daughter was crying and all the kids looked scared. I'm a fairly big fella - 6', 90 odd kg.(not all of it fat) but this guy stood over me.
Eventually he left.
I now coach for his son's club (tho he's not on my team). I have to say that snot's behavior and attitude appear to have improved incredibly. Snot's dad still looks at me and mutters.
Kids, don't argue with the ref., they're the 1 person who can signal the end of your game.
(, Thu 26 Apr 2012, 5:53, 14 replies)
Molten metal
It was announced that to save time, the school middle distance running reps for the local champs would be open to whoever volunteered. "Sweet," thinks 14 year old I, "a day off school, and all I have to do is run 800m!"

Thus I found myself on a proper athletics track in front of a huge audience of school children about to run against proper athletes. I was only slightly behind after the first half lap. Just keep somewhere close, I told myself. Then the burn started setting in. It felt like I was inhaling molten metal, only it was scorchingly cold. I was going to die. I looked up; only half a lap to go. But ... everyone else had already finished. Beaten by half a lap, in a two lap race. I somehow managed to push through to the end, but the officials didn't even bother recording my time. I think they thought I was just warming up for the next race, because how could anyone be so far behind?

I slunk back into the stands and spent the rest of the day fighting for breath like a 90 year old asthmatic chain smoker. I should've gone to school that day. The triathlons were a different story. I'd be on a team with a crappy swimmer and a crappy cyclist. I'd get the day off school to lounge about on the beach while they took an age to complete their legs, then I'd casually jog the 5km course with no pressure on as we were already way behind.
(, Thu 26 Apr 2012, 4:52, Reply)
Oval shaped madness.
My comprehensive school was rugby mad and as such it was compulsory in PE,not wanting be called a wuss I tried out in a practice match with another class.
Some time during the game one of the opposition came down the wing....he was 6ft3 built like a brick shithouse and nasty,at this point I should have made a token tackle,but no I jumps up grabs him round the neck - a big no no,he threw me off and threw the ball away.
Promising me pain of death he chased after me.
I came to the conclusion rugby wasnt for me that day but realised fear don,t half make you run fast.
(, Thu 26 Apr 2012, 1:13, Reply)
Once I saw this guy on balance beam...
clinging on to it upside down with his feet like some sort of fleshy boney clamp.
(, Thu 26 Apr 2012, 0:43, Reply)

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