You are not logged in. Login or Signup
Home » Question of the Week » PE Lessons » Post 572672 | Search
This is a question PE Lessons

For some they may have been the highlight of the school week, but all we remember is a never-ending series of punishments involving inappropriate nudity and climbing up ropes until you wet yourself.

Tell us about your PE lessons and the psychotics who taught them.

(, Thu 19 Nov 2009, 17:36)
Pages: Latest, 16, 15, 14, 13, 12, ... 1

« Go Back

Hockey
Without wanting to sound like a black sheep so early on, unlike the majority of the posts so far this week I bloody loved PE when I were at Secondary School. I represented the School in Rugby, Football and Cricket, and when we moved Campuses to start our GCSEs (now known as Year 10) at the tender age of 14, us lads were introduced to hockey.

Now for some reason I found an extra-special aptitude for this queer old non-contact sport; I scored goals for fun. In my first-ever hockey-based PE lesson I scored nine goals. The premise seemed to be that one kid would actually connect with the ball and knock it twenty or thirty yards or so, the 'defence' would attempt to stop the ball by chopping their sticks down on the ground, albeit too late, and yours truly would 'latch on' to the through ball using his cheetah-esque pace and score.

So it was that the School decided that a decent number of Year 10 lads seemed OK-enough hockey players, and a team was formed and fixtures arranged against local Oxfordshire Schools, with me being selected as centre-forward, on account of my prolificacy in front of goal (I had, by this point, scored 26 goals in four PE lessons).

So it was that we played our first match. I soon realised that the tried-and-tested routine - run onto through-ball that the defence completely messes up the act of cutting out - wasn't going to work, as the opposing School had obviously selected guys at the back who had mastered the basic art of stopping a hockey ball coming towards them. I did manage to pinch a goal in that game, and we drew 2-2. Not a bad result at all considering it was our 'debut' hockey match.

Our next game was against a local college - bigger lads than us - so we were to be up against it. Our School had the genius stroke of playing the game to coincide with the School lunch break, so we would receive support from a large number of pupils and teachers midway through the first half and most of the second. We got an early goal to calm our nerves, and I struck just before half-time to put us two-up, just as bodies started beginning to congregate around the pitch. I added to my tally early on in the second period, to some cheers and applause and although they pulled one back, we had a cushion. We scored a fourth, and with ten minutes to go I was eyeing my hat-trick.

So fate prevailed. A through ball was missed by the defence, and I had the chance I wanted. One-on-one with the 'keeper, I advanced rapidly, let him leave the sanctity of his line, and as he rushed towards me I calmly stroked the ball to his right, the ball noisely clacking against the wooden backing of the goal.

The adrenaline was really flowing now. I was pumped, I had an audience, and so, in split-second, my adolescent brain made the democratic decision to play to the crowd and celebrate. I was to lower my shorts and moon them.

Now, this manoeuvre generally requires stealth and dexterity as well as a cessation of movement before the lowering of the flag can take place if you'll pardon the expression. I, however, decided to lower my undercarriage whilst still in motion. I managed to wrest my shorts down to expose the top half of my buttocks, but in this process I managed to lose my balance and tumbled to the ground, one hand clasping my hockey stick, the other gingerly holding my shorts. As I had no hands free to necessitate a soft landing, I hit the ground hard and my hand freed itself of my shorts which dug into the turf as I landed, lowering themselves (and my underwear) to that sacred area between groin and knee, exposing my Crown Jewels to all and sundry.

It not being the warmest day on record, my genitalia had decided to adopt the appearance of a garden snail slowly retreating back into its shell. Thus, not only did I receive dentention after a trip to the Headmaster's office to explain my action (which I also had to explain in writing) but the paucity of my giggle stick prevented me from being deemed a worthy suitor until well into my A-Levels...
(, Fri 20 Nov 2009, 1:07, closed)
This sir
deserves a click!
(, Fri 20 Nov 2009, 2:39, closed)
*click*
fair play!
(, Fri 20 Nov 2009, 10:44, closed)
Click
Nicely told, mate!
(, Fri 20 Nov 2009, 12:12, closed)
Full of like
Sire! You haveth been victorious of ye olde internette!
(, Fri 20 Nov 2009, 17:00, closed)
Ha!
Took me a while to get round to reading this. Well worth the wait! Nice one, mate. Clicks all round!
(, Sun 22 Nov 2009, 23:07, closed)

« Go Back

Pages: Latest, 16, 15, 14, 13, 12, ... 1