Arnie...
Came over to the UK on an exchange scheme thingy from Detroit (I think, somewhere like that) and a bit of an inspirational cove really. He was too old to get crushy on, and so won people over by being loud, positive and encouraging at every opportunity. He got us (even the non-sporty like me) involved playing basketball and baseball at lunchtimes. One lunchtime he won my eternal admiration.
My sportily-gifted middle brother was playing a blinder at basketball in the sports hall one lunchtime, with about a dozen other teenaged hormone casualties. I was watching because it was raining outside. This was a fast, spirited kind of game no quarter asked for etc, etc. My brother leapt in the air, caught the ball and went on a solo run to the other end of the court, finishing with a crunchy splat into the end wall. He stood up with his brave-face-stiff-upper-lip firmly on under the blood gouting from his nose. Arnie sprinted over, grabbed my bro's nose with the fingers of one hand, and hit that hand with the other. Result! Blood stopped, pain stopped as well, cue big grin from sporty brother, quick wipe with t shirt and on with the game...
Well, I was impressed...
(Beer Elf Thought this was like a campfire, anyhow, on, Sat 21 Nov 2009, 14:52, Reply)