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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)
Pages: Popular, 10, 9, 8, 7, 6, 5, 4, 3, 2, 1

This question is now closed.

Sports Horror? My One Moment of Sporting Glory!
My moment of gym-based glory came not on sports day but in a PE lesson.
Now physical feats of speed or endurance are not my thing. PE teacher never did learn my name. Not a bad thing. I'm more of a brainy type. Of course this means I had my fair share of bullying but I like to think it was jealousy based. I can see some of you are nodding and some want to punch me already.

Aged 12, at a selective boys grammar school, I'm trying to make my mark with a new load of 30 class mates. PE class warms up with the usual running around exercises until Sir sets one particular task.
"Everyone in the middle of the gym, now run and touch every wall and return to the centre"
This is the cue for every boy to immediately scatter to the middle of the nearest wall before turning around and running fast as their little spindly legs could carry them to the middle of the opposite wall (some unfortunately meeting another boy coming the other way) before returning to the middle of the gym, turning 90 degrees (or pi/2, as I like to think of it) and repeating with the last two opposite walls.

Now I really don’t like to do more than I have to; one of life’s natural slackers perhaps. I thought for a moment and proceeded to jog sedately to the corner of the gym where I touched two walls at once, ambled to the opposite corner, touched the last two walls and returned leisurely to the centre of the gym arriving way before the speediest of my peers.

I had singled myself out to staff and pupils alike as too-bloody-clever-for-his-own-good.
(, Fri 31 Mar 2006, 16:53, Reply)
Bestest Supporter
In high school I managed to captain the first XV rugby team. We were playing in the competition whereas we play other regional catholic school teams from our state (NSW).

Now being a Marist Brothers school our principal was a one Brother Roger. Who was known to partake in a port or two.

My team was doing well and we made the quarter finals, perhaps the most important game for the school rugby team in quite a while.

It was a home game so we had a short walk to the local oval where we were to get kitted up. Our coach was a lay teacher that knew a thing or two about the game. He was giving his pre game speech when the door opens.

DADA a one pissed Brother in a port stained white robe.

The next couple of minutes has to be one of the funniest, scariest and uncomfortable moments of my rugby career as Roger continues to regal us with stories of how awesome he truly is, was and could be at the game.

On the way out he hugs a few guys and wishes us all the luck in the world wishing he could play with us.

Queue the next 40 mins Brov Rog screaming at the top of his lungs at us from the side line with a glass of port in his hand. The next 40 though were silent except for the few supporters about.

He was found later in a quiet corner of the park asleep on a bench. Our shining light, our beacon of confidence.

We won 14 - 5.
(, Fri 31 Mar 2006, 16:49, Reply)
third leg
Remember the three-legged race?

Aged about 15 I got tied to the best looking girl in the year for an inter-school sports day. She gave me a jolly stern talking to about tactics and technique, and sure enough we crossed the finishing line first. She was tremendously excited. Unfortunately, so was I.

I don't know what came over me. It must have been the combination of bondage, balmy summer weather, her severe but enthusiastic will to win, or the electricity generated by our thighs pumping together in white-clad wonder.

Whatever. My dad still has a picture of me being presented with my winner's rosette, huge grin plastered on my face, a beautiful girl on my leg and a stonking boner to boot. Cheers!
(, Fri 31 Mar 2006, 16:45, Reply)
Every year at sports day
we were herded off to the local cricket ground, so all the teachers and parents had somewhere nice to sit and all the pupils had a massive course to run. This meant that the whole school had to walk there, en masse, after lunch. This would be fine, but our school was also known for having *the* worst uniform in the midlands. We had gray, red, yellow, white and blue striped blazers and a lovely straw boater. You can ridicule goffs all you like, honestly, we were a minefield.

One lovely hot summers day as we were walking along, blazers and boaters on, hundreds of us, along the main road, it was fairly obvious word had got out. All along the way we had nothing but kids shouting, horns beeping, people getting in the middle and making lots of girls cry...it was incredible. The teachers didn't quite know what to do, all they could say was "Quiet, Emily" and "This way, girls", while looking as stern as possible.

On the way back to the school we were allowed to stay in full sports kit. With free ice cream. Because it was "quite hot, actually, yes."

(, Fri 31 Mar 2006, 16:20, Reply)
Wet School Days
I was lucky(!) enough to get a grant to go to a rather nice public school, despite being an oik. One sports day my mum came along and on the walk down to the sports field, we had to pass by the army cadeds asault course when my mum decided she needed a piss. So of course, over she wondered and as happy as you can be, dropped her knickers, squatted over one the assualt course tyres and did her business. I lost the 100m as well.
(, Fri 31 Mar 2006, 16:07, Reply)
Sports Day
Our sports days were always unmitigated disasters. Here's a brief selection:
1. Interschool football match abandoned after both sides started fighting and all 22 sent off.
2. Javelin abandoned after a poorly thrown spear impaled a bystander (leg so nothing too serious but messy)
3. Shott Putt... oh the shot putt...
4. Kids vs Teacher cricket (no really!) abandoned after deputy head pol-axed by very fast eye-high beamer (nearly died I was laughing so hard, that went down well..).
5. Disclocated Ankle (mine) in Kids Vs Teachers football match (bastard didn't like me laughing and tackled me hard enough to knock me flying)
6 (this was my fav) 100m Dash was scheduled immediately after lunch and finished with four of the six runners throwing up.
(, Fri 31 Mar 2006, 15:47, Reply)
My school wasn't posh enough to have a sports day
but we did have compulsory PE three times a week...except for me. I broke my ankle and thus got out of PE for over a year. This was hellish in winter (freezing arse off standing by the football pitch having to make small talk with the teacher) but rather pleasant in summer (lounging around beside the tennis courts sunbathing when everybody else was getting all sweaty wielding those nasty plastic tennis rackets).

One such summer day there were three of us not doing PE. Me (the aforementioned ankle), Jonathan ("forgotten" PE kit) and Weed (broken arm).

Weed was not his real name, but that's what everybody called him, so much so that I'm buggered if I can remember what his real name was. Even the teachers called him Weed.

Aaaaanyway, we were chatting about this and that, and Jonathan suddenly turned to Weed and said, "Weed, have you started your periods yet?"

Both Weed and I guffawed and WTFed until Jon surreptitiously winked at me...

Me: Yeah Weed, haven't you started your periods yet?
Weed: Boys don't have periods!
Jon: They do...haven't you started yours yet?
Weed: No...
Me: Really?
Weed: When are you supposed to start?
Jon: When you're about eleven or twelve, if I hadn't started by now I'd be a bit worried
Weed: So, like, what happens?
Jon: It's horrible, all blood starts coming out your knob and stuff
Me: Haven't you started yet?
Weed: Oh, I just remembered, I HAVE started my periods!

Happy days...
(, Fri 31 Mar 2006, 15:25, Reply)
Cross country scars
Sports days clearly hold little trauma in comparison to cross country. The teaching scum at my school saw it as character building, which is OK if the character you are building is a knuckle headed wuckfit like them. Managed to stave off asthma most of the way round only to discover that one of my pals had had a petit mal seizure half way around the course, which lead to him completing the course supported and pushed by our big fat PE instructor, since the left side of his body no longer functioned.

Private fuckin schools. Save your money people.
(, Fri 31 Mar 2006, 15:24, Reply)
Spare a thought for the unco-ordinated
I've never been good at sport and I've never been competitive.

I remember not being able to skip when I was a youngun and every year there was a sports day skipping relay event.

After pitiful attempts at the sack race and egg and spoon, during which my mam is in a frenzy, screaming at me to hurry up and beat the other kids (right next to their respective parents, my mother was never an expert at tact), I'm ready to call it a day and have a nice ice lolly.

But no, tis skipping time.

I repeatedly begged my teacher to let me sit this one out as I can't skip only to be told that everyone has to participate.

I ended up running my length of the relay, skipping rope in hand and blubbing like a baby all the way to the other side.

Everyone else could skip, even the boys. I felt a failure as a little girl and a human being...

What made it worse was my Mother rallying me on, then other parents start to take pity on me and they start shouting too, eventually i got a little round of applause when I reached the end, tear-stained and humiliated!!

Ah happy memories...
(, Fri 31 Mar 2006, 15:19, Reply)
Cross country
We had our cross country at a place near Bearsden called Mugdoch Country Park, which I'm convinced is a Spoonerism. Anyhoo, the place consisted, as is required by law for all Children's cross country events: a muddy path full of sharp rocks and 4 inch deep puddles; a massively steep random incline with slippy path; a section of narrow path surrounded by dead trees with long, whippy branches, and a small section of hidden dips, peaks and troughs which you couldn't stop yourself on because you'd built up so much speed at the top.

One particuarly demoralising year, about ten seconds after the starters line I was either tripped up or caught someone's shoe, never found out which, and landed in a small pile of rabbit crap; got a stitch running up the unfeasably steep hill only to see two girls who'd turned off about 5 minutes previously to go up their track (shorter than the boys one) and had managed to get to the top at the same time as me by walking; cut my arms and legs on the narrow section, and then finished the first lap after about 14 minutes and 56 seconds. Two of my friends finished 5 seconds later and were told that their race was over, because they'd taken longer than 15 minutes, and they could go to wait on the bus, in the warm, while I stumbled on alone for another 20 minutes or so. I came 21st in my year eventually, in the knowledge that, had I competed the first lap 5 seconds slower, I could have been sitting on the bus eating, drinking, and reading FHM like everyone else who was sensible enough to be slow.

Length? It was fucking tiny after that.
(, Fri 31 Mar 2006, 15:17, Reply)
Yes - my school was that posh. Well, not really.

One year there was an orienteering competition and only one person "could" read a map. Anyway, we followed him a bit until we realised he was even more clueless than the rest of us (quite an achievement). We abandoned him and found our own way to nowhere in particular - our team came about 3rd...

Several hours later our intrepid explorer finds his way back to school, hungry and looking like shit - the teachers hadn't bothered going looking for him cos "He'll turn up eventually".

Needless to say we ripped it out of him for ages - he was known as "pathfinder" for ages - he grew to accept it!

Ian (Eon) - you're a star!!
(, Fri 31 Mar 2006, 15:06, Reply)
Winning. And losing
At our sports days and rugby, football, cricket, etc matches - there was always a winner - and especially a loser. With a capital LOSER.

Losers often got beaten up.

Been on the giving and receiving end of them both - built my character I can tell you.

Away with all that PC bollocks - kids like to win. End of.
(, Fri 31 Mar 2006, 14:40, Reply)
School Cross Country
"When you get to the railway line", said Mr Prince reminding us of the route of the annual muddy slog, "turn right and return to school."

Jimbo was new to our school, and quite the best athlete we'd ever had. He was, unfortunately, not entirely blessed in the brains department.

He got to the railway line in first place, turned right and proceeded to run down the tracks on the London-Bristol mainline. Everybody else, not caring one jot where they were being led, followed. It was just like The Railway Children, only without a lightly-oiled Jenny Agutter and with more police.

The following week, they made us all do it again. Jimbo was found, several hours later, wandering the streets of Henley, some six miles from school. Poor Jimbo. Or, as he's now known: Lord Coe*.

* May contain traces of lie
(, Fri 31 Mar 2006, 14:39, Reply)
I am possible the most unco-ordinated swimmer in history. My style of swimming basically consists of flailing about like someone having a seizure. Never-the-less I can swim in terms of I can keep myself from drowning.

Anyway once at a swimming carnival I was "swimming" in my usual style and my forth grade teacher started stripping off his shirt so he could dive in a save me. Luckily I saved him the trouble by making it to the other side.

Also I once got a 4th place ribbon...in a race with only 4 people.
(, Fri 31 Mar 2006, 14:22, Reply)
No sports day.
My kids don't get a sports day they have an 'activity day' instead.

Apparently you're not allowed to 'win' anything if you go to school in North London, it's not fair on the other competitors.

(, Fri 31 Mar 2006, 14:16, Reply)
Satan in a trackie
I was a larger-framed child, but I always enjoyed sports (it's my glands, you see).

Oddly, I was actually quite looking forward to the inter-school cross country. So, come the day, I was well miffed to find that I'd forgotten to pack my shorts. Mr Hard-on, the PE teacher, threw a bobbler on the basis that I was a lardy shirker and forced me to do the circuit in my pale blue Y fronts.

I thought I'd had the last laugh by putting my legs through the arms of my t-shirt and tucking the hem in to my pants like a teenage nappy.

All went well until....approaching the finish line, naked boy-breasts heaving perkily, my shirt came untucked and plummeted around my ankles. Consequently I aquaplaned in the oozing mud around the finish line, which forced my grundies to kind of roll down slightly, exposing my widescreen boottocks to the rest of the runners. And the five schools that had come to watch the run.

I'm just glad it wasn't a bike race...
(, Fri 31 Mar 2006, 14:08, Reply)
Rugby is ace.
At age of 14 I fucking HATED sport and avoided it at all costs. Then my mates all said "Come and play rugby 'nator, it's a right old laugh and you get to duff people up without getting lines, we go on tour and drink unhealthy amounts of beer and for some unknown reason, the uglier you are, the more girls are attracted to you". So off I trot, and do you know, I loved it. I got used to the bigger guys smashing my head in and even the sight of a guy getting hit in the side of the head with a rugby ball, causing his eye to pop out of it's socket didn't put me off. Although the sight of the guy getting his nuts stood on did cause me to have my doubts. But the time we went on tour and the PE teachers warned us not to go out and get pissed and we went out anyway and did just that, and met said teachers coming out of a pub at chucking out time absolutely rat-arsed was fucking great. If you hate rugby, there is something wrong with you*.

*Apologies if there actually is something wrong with you
(, Fri 31 Mar 2006, 14:02, Reply)
Got an actual sports day one!!
I smashed out my front tooth when I was 7 (not pretty I can tell you) - I wasn't allowed to have a bridge until I was 18 as being young meant that I was still growing, blah blah blah.... AAAAnnnnnyhoooo - This meant that I spent school with a false tooth, yes, that's right a shitty plastic thing in the roof of your mouth and a dodgy tooth at the front. Quality - Not much of a weirdo am I (hahahaha).



I was running the 400, coming in second (Stuart the resident lanky twunt had won everything else anyway apart from the 100 which I won yay!) and the track dips horribly. Now I'm running like a 'tard mouth open tongue flailing like a great dane and my tooth flies out to f*** knows where. I had to stop and find it amid much yelling from all & sundry - nothing f***ed up about that is there. Oh, I found it covered in cut grass, I blow on it, decide that it's not that manky and put it back in. I came last to behind the other 'tard who was running in an even stupider manner than I was....

(, Fri 31 Mar 2006, 13:57, Reply)
Rugby - Full of em today
Admittedly I could just edit the other story, but I hear you like it often....

Am in a ruck and I saw the scrum half - now he's as annoying as they come, scrawny, cocky, needs a slap every now and then which he doesn't get cos he's a teacher's pet.

My captain always told us that if you see someone (opposition) hanging round a ruck or maul, bring 'em in. So I did - I swung my arm/hand out at him to bring him in (serves him right for being out of position and too close) - only I forgot that my fist was actually clenched (whoops) and I was swinging my arm at head height (silly me) and punched him full on in the face.

Forgot about the ref though (same as the other one in my other post) - stood not 10 yards away... Scrum half is on the floor in some pain - I looked innocent, ref looked the other way. Result!

He wasn't quite so cocky after that. Mwahahahaha.
(, Fri 31 Mar 2006, 13:45, Reply)
Ahh rugby again
Rememebered another one....

Our "House" (I went to private school - well, it was a forces school so not posh in the slightest)....... Aaaaaanyhoooo - we were top at rugby that year - and I was a hooker at the time (progressed to the wing later) and my mate kept holding me in the scrum - ref wasn't interested as he was in the same house as my mate. Anyway I got fed up of this and ripped myself out of the scrum and unfortunately flailed round and punched my other mate in the knackers.... And I got carded for it too.....

(, Fri 31 Mar 2006, 13:40, Reply)
Much more fun running sports days than running in them...
At primary school, we all took part in the sports day, going round 'bases' in our groups doing things like seeing how many baskets you can score or beanbags you can get in a hoop, then on to some running races (with heats having taken part beforehand so I didnt have to bother being incredibly slow. All onfront of our collective parents sat in the middle. Not particularly exciting, but not bad per se

The fun bit came after we had left primary school (at 11) and gone to academy, where the seniors from our primary got to go back and help run the event, Standing around in the sun for an afternoon counting all the points up at bases, then holding up the finishing line for the races, and all the comments from teachers still there about how big we now were and how well we are doing.
Much better fun than sitting around in a stuffy classroom and doing work. Helped by a couple of friends who had come along for the fun of it (being ex pupils they got off with it too) joining us in our scoring and standing around, fantastic

Incidentally, my old house won it that year too, and I didn't get to cheat and fudge scores for them either, as I ended up marking another team...

(, Fri 31 Mar 2006, 13:32, Reply)
Never much of a sporting type, I tended to stand as far away from the action as possible during sport.
Anyway, during a rugby match, I'm standing there minding my own business when I became aware of a sound like distant thunder approaching. It was the biggest lad in our year, a stocky mass of athlete and testosterone so thick there was actually a haze round him.
He had the ball and was approaching fast, so as he reached me I simply stepped to one side, letting him roar past. Great, I thought, I can get on with staring into space while he scores a try for his side.

The PE teacher was actually an alright sort as PE teachers go, but he was having none of this and stopped the match. Size, he explained, was no handicap to playing sport. He got the big lad to stand holding the ball and told me to tackle him.

I might as well have tried to fell a lamp-post. I ran full tilt and dived at his legs, only to spin round them like a horseshoe round a post.

The PE teacher actually slapped his hand on his forehead in disbelief, decided to cut his losses and resumed the match, and I got to go back to staring into space again.
(, Fri 31 Mar 2006, 13:21, Reply)
Hated all sports but I once did the long jump in 9.8 seconds!
(, Fri 31 Mar 2006, 13:19, Reply)
Prep school sports
I was at a prep school of no more than 250, with only about 12 in the top year. As I'd only just moved into private schooling, I was rougher round the edges than most and basically the girls loved it!

Come sports day, and there are only really 2 of us that are any good. I won everything under 1500m (racing against all ages, but with head starts!!) and Sid won everything over that. So cross country arrives, 6 miles across the school lands, and me and Sid agree that he'll carry my hole punch thing (think orienteering) and I'll have a little rest in exchange for me doing his maths homework for a month.

The following happened. Me and current squeeze Felicity (real name) went for some sports of our own, while Sid ran off to get me a thoroughly deserved 5th place. Best cross country I've ever done; private school girls, the myth is so true...
(, Fri 31 Mar 2006, 13:19, Reply)
we used to have interform athletics at lunchtimes. i used to do the 800 and 1500, but was roped in to do the 8 x 100 metre relay. i think i was running the 7th leg and so it was fairly important that i ran quite fast. upon arrival of the 6th man, i took the baton and accelerated away. i have a problem with my kneecap in that it occasionally pops out of place, moves round to the side and then pops back into it's home in a very short space of time. it's a smidgeon painful. after about 95 metres of hard running, my kneecap made it's break for freedom and i crumpled. in falling, i did somehow manage to pass on the baton (possibly an illegal throw was used) and i fell over on my face. as i lay on the floor i saw my english teacher (who was checking the handover) laughing at my misfortune. i replied "fuck off, it hurts!" as my knee swelled up to the size of large grapefruit. remembering my place, i politely added "sir" on the end. which was perhaps more than he deserved. i don't think we won, but we weren't disqualified.
(, Fri 31 Mar 2006, 13:10, Reply)
Lets have a water jump
Cross country day - everyone must run the distance unless seriously medically unable. 5 races throughout the day. 1st&2nd years run 3km and go through the waterjump -think large hastily dug pit about 8m square, deep at the start lined with tarpaulin(plasitc)- once, 3rd and 4th years run 5km and go through the "jump" (or muddy swimming pool) twice on their course. Finally the 5th and 6th (me) years do their 8km race and go through the jump 3 times. Now, having had the equivalent of about 4.5 thousand people jump into the water and then try to carry on with the race meant that there was essentially a swamp for about 500m after the "jump". Not so much running cross country as wading-though-thick-mud cross country. Some of the weaker kids had to be pulled out with tractors*.

...being nowhere near the front half of the 6th years meant that doing diving bombs into the water jump (which was a good 1-1.5m deep in places) was the high point of the day :)

*tractor useage may be a figment of my imagination but the rest is true
(, Fri 31 Mar 2006, 12:44, Reply)
i am rubbish at sport.
i was just rubbish at sport, my bro and sis excelled but i was a musical froot really.. one time though our school forced us all to try out for the cross country team during pe lessons, and for some strange reason i came 6th, which then meant i got a place. so i was like alright then i will compete at the interschool cross country thing. come the day, i decide that i need a strategy, which was to drink loads of lucozade about ten mins prior to the event. because lucozade gives you ENERGY and makes you run FASTER!

i got a stitch almost straight away and came 250th.

AND the course was twice as long.At least i beat all the chavs from my dads school (one of the worst schools in the country i will have you know - im from hull)

I dont run.
(, Fri 31 Mar 2006, 12:42, Reply)
and yet I never swam competitvely again...
I skipped all but one of my high school swimming carnivals(to go to the beach and work on my tan no less) because (a)the sports master was a touchy feely bastard, and (b)I was too scared to dive, but too ashamed to jump into the pool.

The only day I did attend I mustered up the courage to dive off the block, swam under water feeling invincible for oh, 30 seconds, came up and began swimming at a leisurely pace.

Soon after I heard a whistle and splashing behind me - the boys race had begun while I was still at about the halfway point. I was soon overtaken by the boy swimming in my lane, but by the time I completed my lap I was judged as having come first in the *following* girls race.

I got a nice blue ribbon and was automatically entered in the district finals.
(, Fri 31 Mar 2006, 12:40, Reply)
Run, Forest, Run............!!!
There was much controversy at our School house team sports day back in the early 1980's when they decided to introduce the 'Special Achievers Race', which basically meant that the school 'tards all had a chance of doing something worthwhile in the sports day.

This was really opposed by Mark, our ultra-competitive House Team captain, who viewed this with immense disgust, thinking that our resident House team spanner who I will name 'Derren' will cock-up our reasonable chances of walking away with a few medals.

Anyway, day of said race, the 'spakka 200m' was due to be the last race (so they could get a special round of applause at the end). Derren hadn't bothered bringing his PE kit - not one piece of it! Therefore, in front of the whole School, parents, governors etc., he had to run in the cliched vest, underpants and his shoes...which just happened to be a pair of grubby glam-rock style platform boots that would have been out of fashion in 1976, never mind the North Of England in the early '80s!

"Captain Fanastic" Mark was fuming!! We really thought he was going to explode as his face was bright red (more than normal - he was a proper ginge!). We were within a few points of winning the sports day, all hopes of victory resting in the platformed shoes of our resident spazmo in his vest and undies. We were doomed....

Race starts, and he's off like a feckin' whippet!! And we mean storming. We'd seen nothing like it every jaw dropped, he was running like his life depended on it. Hardly able to even stand in his platform shoes, his skinny legs and arms all over the place, but was winning by a country mile! Okay, strictly he should have been disqualified for going into other lanes, but not even the most pedantic schoolmaster was going to fault this effort.

Last 50m of the race, we were all at the finishing line, noise from the assembled masses building to a crescendo...and he was speeding up! The sight of Derren running towards us with his arms waving like a drowning man, tongue flapping to one side, and demented smile on his face, will stay with me forever!! What made it even funnier was "Captain Fantastic" Mark, lost in the moment, screaming at the top of his voice "RUN, RUN, FASTER YA SPAKKY CNUT, FASTER C'MONNNNN!!!!!" punching the air, face almost purple, veins popping from the side of his ginger nut. Screaming so loud that obviously every person with half a mile could hear his words of...erm....'encouragement'!

He crossed the winning line with time to spare, and just kept running around the track again in a mad lap of hounour. All of us trying to catch him to celebrate as he ran off. He won us the sports day, and we were going to carry him shoulder-high with our trophy as an honour, but when we did catch up with him, the excitement occasion had overcome him and he was erm....damp to say the least!
(, Fri 31 Mar 2006, 12:16, Reply)
I'm surprised
That nobody has tried to pass of the "wheelchair sports day" incident of Playgroundlaw.com fame as their own yet.

I never really took part in School Sports Days, although being forced to enter at least one event, chose the long jump. Apparently my foot was a good 6-8 inches over the line but the teacher didn't notice so all was well. Game on!

Oh, and I don't know anyone who actually bothered to run the full route round the school on cross-country runs (our school was too pikey to actually take us out into the country, so it was laps of the school instead), normally a shortcut would be worked out on the first lap upon which point we'd sit down and have a chat for ten minutes, before turning up panting dramatically at the checkpoint to claim our winning times. The teachers were SO impressed...... weren't they?
(, Fri 31 Mar 2006, 11:38, Reply)

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