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This is a question School Sports Day

At some point in the distant past, someone at my school had built a large concrete tank behind the sheds and called it a swimming pool. Proud of this, they had a "Swimming Sports Day" in which everyone had to participate, even those who couldn't swim (they got to walk across the shallow end of the tank).

This would probably have been OK if the pool hadn't turned a deep opaque green the night before due to lack of maintainance. Even the school sports stars didn't want to go near the gloopy mess in the pool. We were practically pushed in. I'm sure some of the younger kids never surfaced again and the non-swimmers looked petrified.

Tell us your sports day horrors.

(, Thu 30 Mar 2006, 11:13)
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This question is now closed.

Triple Jump
I ran, I jumped ... and landed on my face ... without even reaching the bloody sandpit! Clearly the shame and humiliations in front of the school chums was painful BUT the real emotional scars were provided when I rolled over to check the reaction of my monstrous PE teacher only to be greeted with a clear line of sight straight up his almost obscenely short shorts which provided young Undercovers with a view of his strange and massively distended balls
(, Wed 5 Apr 2006, 1:12, Reply)
I ran into a wall
...That pretty much gives you the general idea. But to fully comprehend the stupidity of this situation, I'll get on with the specifics.

The weather was shit, so we stayed indoors playing kickball in a tiny gymnasium with brick walls. The "bases" were small mats on three of the walls, and I was up to kick first. Being a weakling, I faked out the other team and got away with a wee tap, making them all rush forward for the ball as I ran like hell for first base.

"RUN!!! RUN!!! RUN FASTER!!!" screamed my team. I looked over my shoulder to see if the opposition had grabbed the ball yet, simultaneously speeding up. Not looking + sprinting + brick wall = ouch! My right knee slammed directly into the wall and I fell over, screaming in pain. I'd broken the damn thing (my knee, not the wall).

To top things off, the P.E. teacher said, "Well, don't run into a wall, Kersal Missive!" right after I, erm, ran into the wall.

She then suggested, "Try walking on it. It might feel better."

Two months later I got out of the splints. Thanks, Teacher.
(, Tue 4 Apr 2006, 22:26, Reply)
We were...
trudgin through the fields and then all of a sudden a massive bang was heard in the distance and freddies arm was...

OH sorry u changed the question, jus like my sports days den eh, always come last
(, Tue 4 Apr 2006, 22:18, Reply)
Oh God, spacehoppers.....
A teacher at my high school decided to compete in a novelty race, straddling TWO SPACEHOPPERS.
He looked like a very very bad case of 'bouncing elephantiasis',or a sort of ungodly cross between Daley Thompson and Buster Gonad.

The whole school and crowd were screaming with uncontrollable laughter. Possibly the funniest thing any of us had ever seen, in a disturbing sort of way.
(, Tue 4 Apr 2006, 20:46, Reply)
I ate my potato on a spoon
I was always crap at sports. Picture the chubby looking girl jumping up and down expectantly trying to catch the eye of the team captain to get picked for the team...and then getting picked last. Yes that was me.

I hated sports day. Why couldn't there be an arts day, where we celebrate the prowess of the best school's artists, and give THEM nice shiny trophies???

Anyway, I lost the potato and spoon race (we didn't have real boiled eggs for some reason - probably because the potatos could be picked up and used again and again without disintegrating).

So I sat on the sidelines and ate my potato. Raw.

I was hungry and there was nothing else to eat and I didn't want anyone else to have it. For some reason this random act of piggyness felt like I was getting them all back for their unfairness and shortsightedness. Strangely enough, it also tasted pretty good and has spawned a life-long addiction to raw food, including bacon, steak and of course sushi.
(, Tue 4 Apr 2006, 19:36, Reply)
Spent sports day in the upper sixth having a shag in the woods above the field. I came last.
(, Tue 4 Apr 2006, 18:48, Reply)
Self inflicted injury..
Cos i hate any kinda team games. I regularly used to try and break my own arms/legs/collarbone to get out of rounders. Still have a scar from scratching my arm out of frustration!

You see what that school did to me!
(, Tue 4 Apr 2006, 18:27, Reply)
Perforated face
I’ve always hated sports day as I was one of the tall kids, so was always picked for sports, even though I was complete rubbish. Anyway sport day comes around and low and behold, I’m chosen for the hurdles! I can hardly run let alone run and jump. Come the day I’ve “Accidentally” forgotten my trainers. Oh whoa is me, looks like I can bugger off and have fun with my mates. Unfortunately my very sporting brother just happens to have his cricket shoes on him. Even more unfortunately these are the ones that where banned when they changed the regulation size of the metal spikes on the bottom.
So there I am at the starting line worried to death that I’m going to tare up the shitty track and get into deep shit when the guy in front of me goes arse over twat and his head land in my lane…. Just as I’m landing from jumping over this hurdle! Jonathon Naylor (for that was his real name) has no idea how close I came to making him Swiss cheese, but a couple of inches to the right and it wouldn’t have been pretty.
(, Tue 4 Apr 2006, 17:05, Reply)
Cheats NEVER beat…
Well not in this case anyway! Grade 5 (10 years old) cross country.

Spent a good hour or so running around a soggy field three times. Most of this time running alongside Simon Kelly in the battle for 5th spot (hey there was at least 45 in it!)

We were to exit the field and spend 5 minutes running on footpaths, back to the school gates and then cross the finish line 50 metres after the school gates.

It was a pretty close contest and both of us were waiting to make a final charge before the school gate that granted access for only one person at a time.

Anyway, the little bastard only decided on the last bend to cheat and cut across a front garden and gain a few valuable metres. What the little bastard didn’t realise was that the lawn was wet and he managed to slip and stumble, meaning that we met at the school gate at exactly the same moment. A nice hip and shoulder on my part left Simon in a heap against the gate and me happily crossing the line in 5th place.

Not a word was ever uttered between us about this incident.

Roll forward to the Grade 6 (11 years old) cross country.

In a near repeat of the previous year, Simon and I ran around chasing the 5th spot. He must have been training hard, as after two and a half laps he powered ahead of me. I was beaten, bugger. Imagine my surprise when 200 metres ahead of me, Simon sets off for a 4th lap of the field. Oh how I laughed as I started sprinting out of the field, onto the footpath and across the line in 5th place. I laughed even harder when Simon came home well down the field after completing a half lap out, before realising his error!
(, Tue 4 Apr 2006, 16:33, Reply)
horrendous pants
our school had a deeply unsexy 70's swimming pool and changing rooms, where the girls' cubicles cleverly backed onto the boys'. there is nothing like wrestling tights onto wet legs only to look up and see a row of about 15 boys grinning at your 11 year old chest (which looked exactly like theirs).

anyway, one day the archaic lighting system was down and we had to change in the dark. freed from the perving of the adolescent boys, it was still horribly difficult getting changed in the dark. laura sinclair, one of the girls in my class, part time fool and dithering champion for the uk, kept blundering into my cubicle. i kept throwing her out.

after the lesson, i returned to my black hole of calcutta cubicle and found laura's blouse and skirt on my floor. i gave them to her and got changed. on the way out, i saw one of my white socks from trampolining under the bench. i picked it up and stuffed it into my bag.

as we were all putting our shoes on, we could hear shouting from the cubicle. eventually the girls' teacher, a butch bull dyke who could model for prison barbers with hip measurements in treble figures, pounded out.

"has anybody seen laura sinclair's knickers?" she asked wearily and disbelievingly.

for a moment, i laughed with everyone else. then i froze as i remembered the "sock" i had found. i fought a battle with my conscience and, sadly for my reputation, lost. i opened my bag and pulled out laura sinclair's knickers.

"er - i have," i said feebly, handing them to the bull dyke. she just looked at me. then she said heavily,

"rachel, i'm very worried about you." and lumbered off with the pants [probably to spend many a happy lunch hour sniffing them].

it was totally horrendous.
(, Tue 4 Apr 2006, 16:19, Reply)
I was always in the last 5 in school cross country
And last in any running race, cause I'm bouncy!

The only sport i was good at was Hockey, netball I guess, Cricket (only played it once and I scored the most points) breaststroke in swimming and table tennis
(, Tue 4 Apr 2006, 15:51, Reply)
High Jump Queen
Twas a sunny day in rural England...well it was the school field with planes from Heathrow taking off and landing every few moments.I absolutely loathed Sports Day.A day dedicated to destroy what little self-esteem I had left by showing me how inferior my sporting abilitly was compared to all the pikey Hayes childs. It was time for the high jump. I say high jump...it was two little coloured stands with a stick across it. There were three levels to the high jump. The stick was moved accordingly to the level you were on. LEVEL ONE-The stick was about half a foot off the ground. "I can do this" I thought. I ran, my chubby thighs chaffing, leapt in to the air..SUCCESS! I hadn't made an arse of myself just yet. Level two. The stick was moved up more, this was going to be a challenge. Again i took a run up and glided over the stick like a tubby little angel.Only one jump left. By this point I had grown increasingly tired/bored/sweaty and wanteto go home. So the stick was hired for a last time.I ran, Lord did I run.Got to the stnad sticky thing of jumping pain and...stopped, stepped over it and stood next to it.The crowd laughed, how they laughed. Still to this day, I cannot work out whether I stopped sub-consciously and it was that point I realised I hated sports or I was just too bloody scared of jumping over a twig two feet off the ground. The latter idea I'm afraid.
Length?!!??It was the height the scared thee bejebus out of me
(, Tue 4 Apr 2006, 15:20, Reply)

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