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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.

Mr Pig
I'm afraid not,


Shame though.
(, Sat 1 Apr 2006, 16:41, Reply)
James_Tiger_Woods has just reminded me of a mixed netball game we had in GCSE PE.
Now our school had one of the best girls netball teams in the country (like a few years running) so us cocky lot in PE decided we'd take em on boys vs girls.
Long story short we stuffed em and didnt really get to see much PE knicker as they mostly wore shorts =/
hey ho.
(, Sat 1 Apr 2006, 16:15, Reply)
PE was torture before I even left the changing room
because my sports kit consisted of -

- my much older sister's old hockey boots, enormously too big for me. I never actually grew into them

- viscose shorts which re-creased themselves instantly and horribly in my bag, no matter how well they were ironed, causing endless bollockings and detentions

- worst of all, an aertex blouse on which my father had kindly fabric-painted my name, surrounded by the school colours, identical to the badges given out for sporting prowess. Made me look like the fake medal-wearing Idi Amin of Grammar School sports.

One year I was forced to compete in a long-jump, and somehow managed to land sliding on my arse.


The crotch of my hated crease-happy culottes parted and I spent the rest of the afternoon wearing them as a sort of bizarre tailed kilt.

The humiliation was worth it though as I managed to convince my mother that they were irreparable and bin them, to be replaced with some more normal shorts. Result!
(, Sat 1 Apr 2006, 16:09, Reply)
Shootin' Hoops
As the child with the perpetual 'always well behaved despite having no natural ability' marks on my high school PE reports I was always singled out by the PE teacher sadist to demonstrate how not to do something in any given sport. Either that of he liked humilating me in front of my year.Each once in a while I'd hear 'menashem! here!'. *sigh* Once (just once, the rest of the time it was; raining/snowing = footbal/rugby or sunny/warm = indoor football.) we had a basketball class.Cue front and centre me as lame demo guy. "Throw that ball into the hoop" I saunter up to the hoop, heart racing, with half the male year watching me and trying not to laugh too much, as I'd not fallen over yet. I pick the ball up, aim (having never got a hoop in my life) and get it in. Woo!That one hoop in basketball was the only good moment in 6 years of high school sports. What a bloody waste of time.
(, Sat 1 Apr 2006, 14:23, Reply)
I was one of those incredibly irritating pupils that not only did well academically, but was quite good at sports. Smug? Never. I got bullied for being good at both, so wasn't exactly a pleasant experience.

Anyway; in Secondary School we played the usual PE sports; netball, hockey (which I hated), gymnastics etc etc. But when Summer came, I was in my element. Athletics and Tennis. I'd managed to dedicate my Thursday evenings since the age of 11 to training for four hours with a tennis racket and yellow ball. I was one determined girl.

Cue 1998, aged 13 and I was training my little arse off for the county championships. It was very much like Wimbledon (aherm) in that sixteen entrants were seeded and sixteen were not. Having won many of my qualifying matches to establish these seedings, I was confident I would be somewhere near the top, if only for the sake of my pride and hours I'd spent hammering a tennis ball about.

Oh no. My bastard PE Teacher who had a daughter and son in the same year as me decided, unfairly, to place them above me simply for the sake of family connections or some bollocks. So there I was, on the commencing week of the championship with my cute little tennis outfit waiting to be selected and finding out I'd been ROBBED.

Cue first match. My anger was evident, I hit fourteen aces in that match. I saw my PE Teacher of extreme arseholeness strolling over looking smug.

Next thing I knew, I hit a 60 (or thereabouts) mph serve straight into his head. His face was a picture in more ways than one, and as he was dragged off the court for "profanities" I felt immensely pleased (and ever so slightly scared of his wrath).


I won the championship beating his daughter in straight sets, and very clearly never let my PE Teacher forget it.
(, Sat 1 Apr 2006, 13:38, Reply)
I used to run 400m and 800m... Badly, but still better than most of the rest of the kids.

After running both of these one sports day, i was then told i'd been entered for the 1500m as well... Our house (yes I went to private school) needed just a few points to win... Finishing above last would be fiiiiine.

So I ended up feigning a hamstring pull after the second lap (whilst a few good metres in the lead...) because I just couldn't be fucked.

I ended faking a limpp around school, perfectly, for 3 weeks...

Sorry for the lack of Linford Christie like length/girth
(, Sat 1 Apr 2006, 13:25, Reply)
Me wanna weewee!
School swimming gala, shite!

Me being fat, speccy anchor I won't win anything for my class so I'm not picked, only the slim and handsome are selected by the overweight biased kiddy-fiddler pervert teacher.

So on the day handsome head boy is there ready to dive in, wow the girls and win the cup, he dives and gains an immediate lead.

As he reaches halfway it looks like he's been bitten by Jaws as a massive trail of bright red blood streams from his abdomen!

No! he's having a cheeky piss, the water contains a marker that reacts with urine ha ha!

I will never forget the shame on this guys face as he is marched out of the main pool in front of 500+ laughing kids and parents.

(, Sat 1 Apr 2006, 13:15, Reply)
I feel asleep ...
in the sack race once.

Recently diagnosed as suffering from hay-fever, the doc prescribed Piriton. Now as anyone else who suffered from hay-fever in the late 70s will testify, this is described as a medication that 'may cause drowsiness'. Not a side effect I was expecting, to be fair.

So there we were, lined up with sacks on the ground in front of us, the whistle blew and we all dashed forward, stepped into the sacks and bent down to pull them up. The rest of the racers grabbed the tops of the sacks, straightened up, and bounced towards the finishing line.

I, on the other hand, remained bent down, slowly pitched over and (I'm told) performed a very poor forward roll and just lay there - somewhat worrying the spectators.

To this day, the smell of old potato scaks can induce narcolepsy.

Apologies for length, it'll get shorter with use.
(, Sat 1 Apr 2006, 12:54, Reply)
My Tutor...
were the worst athletes in the school.

But we always won the tug of war.

Because everyone except me was a fat bastard.

The rest is pretty self explanatory really
(, Sat 1 Apr 2006, 12:53, Reply)
My Finest Sports Related hour
Picture the scene....

It's PE time again for the year 9's. The Boys are running about like retards playing football. The odd one cheering as the girls are marched down the field in our tight hot pants style PE shorts. We are to play rounders.

Now what nobody had realised was that one particular popular bitch was in the storage room with one not so popular, but he was doing her homework and didnt look that bad, guy.

So we all line up, my team is bating first. Which sucks becasue fielders get to sit about and bathe in the sun. I go up to bat with this metal bat thing, and if I am going to do something I am going to put all of my effort into it. I grab the bat and *swing*. Anyway I hit the ball just beyond the furthest fielder and it smahses through the store cupboard window.

Lets just say after being caught by the entire Year half naked with the science geek, she wasn't so popular anymore
(, Sat 1 Apr 2006, 12:44, Reply)
I remember the last sports day that my school had
me and three others fucked off and set fire to some old chairs
(, Sat 1 Apr 2006, 12:39, Reply)
Ok, my crap stories continue - perhaps I'm traumatised.......

We used to play mixed rounders, but that's another obscenely crap story - so this time we were playing mixed netball. I agreed, I mean how hard can it be?

Very hard. And 14-16 year old girls are the most evil, viscious, angry, dangerous and bitchy people on a netball court/pitch/ground/hell-pit. There was scratching, biting, slapping and punching - we lads were not just borderline terrified, we actually feared for our lives. After the game, the evil ones' horns seemed to retract and they were nice again - we lads were still terrified as to what ***might*** happen again so we never opted to play again.

Got 'em back playing mixed football - I had a trademark crunch slide tackle that my mates feared - double footed with (occasionally)sharpened (allegedly) studs - ref never spotted the second foot and it was speed trapped at 353mph with a proper heat haze. Did some proper damage that day :-)

Length? Frequency? Yeh - that's me baby !!
(, Sat 1 Apr 2006, 11:33, Reply)
I was in the army...
until I was kicked out for being late

bandwaggon anyone?
(, Sat 1 Apr 2006, 11:30, Reply)
Someone notified me the other day about a 10 kilometre race in town
Being absolute wank at long distance, I happily declined, until they told me that it was for the blind! I thought to myself "Hey, i might actually win that.."
(, Sat 1 Apr 2006, 8:11, Reply)
Swimming Sports Day
Having passed his eighteenth summer, my friend Matt felt that he could damn well decide to do with his afternoon; as opposed to attending the mandatory Swimming Sports Day.

Turned up next day with excuse note in hand. "Matthias did not attend Swimming Sports Day because Matthias did not feel like it. Signed: Matthias".

So it turns out you're not allowed to write your own excuse notes, even if you're legally entitled to vote and drink beer. Who would have thought.
(, Sat 1 Apr 2006, 3:20, Reply)
I'm proud to say that I've never actually competed in a Sports Day event but when I was in Secondary School we always had to train for certain events during our P.E lessons, even if we weren't actually competing in them. Myself and my circle of friends never cared much for school spirit so one afternoon during a cross country (run through the local woods) training session we decided to walk the entire circuit to see who could get the slowest time. We knew that such activities would result in a bollocking from the homosexual P.E teachers so we all agreed that we'd use the excuse that one of our group had suffered an Athsma attack and that we'd all walked back together out of concern.

We all arrived back at the school some time later, we'd come in last by about ten minutes and were quite proud of ourselves, that was until we were all dragged into the P.E treachers office and given the biggest bollocking ever followed by an hours detention.

The reason behind said bollocking? Someone in the class had accused us of cheating by taking a shortcut.
(, Sat 1 Apr 2006, 1:26, Reply)
Beware little girls in shorts
They made us play footy in year seven. It was an all-girls school, so hey, what could possibly go wrong?

Well, apart from a head on snarling collision, full of squealing and cursing, which was puled apart by the teachers after someone yelled BLOOD.

Well, I don't deny that thirteen yearold girls are vicious little buggers, but the one and only injury of the game wasn't actually inflicted by another girl. Poor Mary tripped over the ball and hit somebody's face with her shoulder, causing her glasses to chip and sink into her cheek.

Well, face wounds always bleed a lot, so the three of us who took her back to sick bay were just a little battle-weay looking. All the people we passed along the way gave us strange looks, can't think why.
(, Fri 31 Mar 2006, 23:29, Reply)
Glad he left
My mum had recently married and had a new baby by my 'stepdad'.

This was 1978 and the bay city roller style boot had gone out of favour a couple of years before.

My 'new daddy' hadn't caught that and was still wearing them that summer.

He decided to do his duty and entered the Fathers race, to disastrous consequences.

He ran, and fell with an almighty thump, the fat bastard, and I swear his foot came up in slow motion and sunlight glinted off it for all to see.

I didn't like my new daddy anymore.

I was glad when he left.
(, Fri 31 Mar 2006, 23:07, Reply)
Age 7
Skipping-with-a-hoop race (I went to a shit primary school), in first by miles, looked at my dad as I ran past him, eyes full of pride, and promptly fell flat on my face. I seem to remember him laughing slightly as he consoled me. Git.

Since then I've learnt to just not bother with sports day.
(, Fri 31 Mar 2006, 21:57, Reply)
I always came last in any race.
Every sports days, Mum and Dad would always come and watch me race. I'd race my ickle heart out and always come last :o( , but my Dad would always run in the Dads race and win. He always gave me his winners rosette.

So last year, at my daughters sports day, I went to watch. Like her Mummy, she ran her ickle heart out and came last. So when it came to the Mummys race, I thought "I'll run and try and win for her". Even though I'd lost all those races, years before, I thought I had a better chance (cos I do regular exercise) of winning now.
So a few Mums line up, Head Teacher shouts 'GO' and I run my ickle heart out.....

I came last.

My daughter loved it though, cos as I was running my top rode up abit and people could see my belly.

Oh well, at least she felt better about losing :oD
(, Fri 31 Mar 2006, 20:09, Reply)
three legged race
i always came last in sports day. the only thing i was ever good at was the three legged race where i was dragged to the finish line by my partner.
(, Fri 31 Mar 2006, 19:37, Reply)
Semolina, horrid green mats, running.
My primary school had a sports day, the usual, egg and spoon, running about, hoops, etc.

We had the government issued green topped foam mats to sit on usually used inside the gym but on sports day which was usually hot and sunny they were dragged out to bake in the sun. Our school dinners usually had semolina muck for pudding, I never ate it but other did, and copious amounts.

Why the hard slog running events were scheduled after lunch I'll never know, but when one of my mates leaned forward, burped and then deposited the entire semolinery contents of his stomach on the mat, the rest of the kids parted like Moses parting the red sea. I can't read one of these stories without seeing that image, some 35 years ago.
(, Fri 31 Mar 2006, 19:33, Reply)
Sack Race Hilarity
Probably the most sought after event by my peers because of its novelty value. This meant that only the most popular got to participate as they'd scowl at you if you put your hand up when asked. Finally, one year I managed to wangle my way into it after a few abscences. On the starting line I was placed next to Adam, a fairly popular kid but one who wasn't cruel to those in the lower echilons of school yard society. The race started and the other kids bounded off into the distance as I hopped then fell, hopped then fell, hopped then fell...

I was ready to go beetroot red, there is everyone at the end and i'm not even half way down. I had a nervous look around and behind me, collapsed on the floor in hysterics was Adam - he'd hardly got going!

I had two choices, keep going and let him be remembered for being awful at the sack race or start laughing and roll around on the floor with him. I didn't have a choice, I looked at the teacher willing us on like her life depended on us finishing and was overcome with laughter. After a few minutes we managed to get up and hop a bit further to the end but it was too much. We collapsed and sat giggling like school girls in the middle of the track. They set the next race up and we got dragged to the side, told off and sent back to our teams mats. He hardly said a word, he gave a knowing look and a pat on the back and I said "See Ya". He went back to being Mr. Popular and I went back to being the know-it-all swot but we both shared that wonderful moment where we both realised how absurd School Sports Days are.

Shame he turned into a cunt.
(, Fri 31 Mar 2006, 19:13, Reply)
Ah....the swimming gala...
...at Upper School.
In which various pimply herberts competed for glory in the piss infested, nadger redducing over chlorinated puddle that was Sudbury Upper School's pool.

Anyway, we would have been around 15.
I was too piss poor a swimmer to be let near the events but my mate Eddie was.
Finest back stroker the year.
first up in the afternoon were the girl's events. 10 o so events featuring the finest physical specimens of teenage femalehood that the school could offer. IN SWIMSUITS.

Then the boy's events started. First up - backstroke. Most of the lads competing had wisely opted to wear swimming cossies in the 'baggy shorts'. Not Ed.
He was wearing skin tight Speedo's.
So the whole YEAR could see his erection straining at his speedos.

The backstroke event started.
Then had to be restarted as all competitors bar one collapsed laughing at some wag shouting 'that's not fair Eddie's using a rudder!'.

For weeks after he was know as 'rudder'.
Even to this day, 15 years later he still is occasionally addressed as Rudder.
Mind you not by me.
He gets violent if you do that.
(, Fri 31 Mar 2006, 19:13, Reply)
High School Spazz
In high school, we were required to take four years of physical education. I took maybe two due to endless athletic injuries. In addition to torn muscles, strained ligaments, and general buising, I broke three fingers playing basketball and volleyball, broke a thumb swimming (seriously), cracked my tailbone during intro to self-defense, passed out while running, and, while playing soccer (football to you non-Americans), broke an ankle (my foot stuck in a gopher hole) and had my nose broken. The broken nose is the only interesting injury. During winter term, when football (American) season was over, players were distributed among the phys.ed. classes without taking the size, gender and abilities of other students into consideration. Second year I found myself - a thin, five foot tall, spazzy girl - playing soccer against boys who were a foot taller than me and more than double my weight. One day, a hulking boy and I ran at the ball at the same time, and he kicked it. I woke up sitting on a bench with blood pouring out of my nose, the teacher screaming hysterically, with no idea how I got there. I was promptly carried off to the nurse's office, mom was summoned, I was taken to the doctor, I was excused from phys.ed. again for several weeks (so some benefit did come out it). Needless to say, I was always the last kid selected when chosing teams, and going to each phys.ed. class was an ordeal of embarrassment and pain. Things got better third and fourth year when we got to do fun stuff that I turned out to be extremely good at, like fencing and archery, which lead to my emancipation from years of bullying by a 6 foot tall, brawny girl (she tried to steal my arrows, I somehow mustered the nerve to say "go fuck yourself", she handed them over and left me alone from then on). I felt like I could be the sole female member of the Fellowship of the Rings!

Fortunately, things got better after leaving school, and I somehow ended up an athletic adult with decent coordination (nothing broken in 20+ years!). I'll always prefer exercising my brain to my body, but, yes, there IS hope for nerds and 90-pound weaklings after high school!
(, Fri 31 Mar 2006, 19:04, Reply)
teacher race
shouting " run you lazy cunts" at the teachers almost made up for all the times i came last in sports days.
i still have nightmares of those twats shouting " faster, faster come on get off the track the race is over!!"
(, Fri 31 Mar 2006, 18:58, Reply)
The Swimming Gala
My mother signed me up to do backstroke at the local swimming gala, myself aged seven at the time. Imagine the horror when her precious child started keening to the left. "wrong way, wrong way", the crowd shouted, so I duly turned - left again - and made it back to the start, labouring under the misapphrehension that I had won. They made me finish the race as well, how cruel. I was still proud as anything though, I came second (out of two), got to go up on the podium and everything. Wore the medal constantly for two weeks, until I lost it in a taxi.
(, Fri 31 Mar 2006, 17:40, Reply)
A memorable sports day moment has to be when I was in year 9 and a teacher had hooked his car radio up to speakers to entertain the crowd. The local radio station was put on and we all joked about ringing up and putting in a song request. As far as I knew nobody dared do it as mobiles were banned and anybody caught with a phone was serverly punished. All this changed though when over the speakers the DJ annouced "I have a request here from a pupil at ****** school who says she's bored ats sports day and needs cheering up". Cue every teacher in the school marching round demanding we turn our pockets out and every student in the school lobbing their phones into nearby bushes.
(, Fri 31 Mar 2006, 17:11, Reply)
Skiving Sports
Always used to skive sports by going to 'clean the chapel' (Church school you see). Which, basically, involved setting light to things.

Anyhow, the inevitable happens and I get dragged into a football match by a new, and hard-arsed, PE teacher. It went something along the lines of:

- Gurnox gets ball
- Gurnox kicks ball extremely hard
- Ball hits new PE teacher in the nuts
- PE teacher grabs happy sack, falls over and throws up
- Gurnox never gets PE again :)
(, Fri 31 Mar 2006, 17:00, Reply)
Another one
God,i must be such a geek,i have tons of stories for this one!

For our cross country,we had to wear PE knickers (horrid red and green giant panties)and scamper along this big muddy field.But first,to escape the school field,we had to jump over the brook.

The 'brook' is a kinda muddy ditch which sometimes had a trickle of muddy crap at the bottom. The generally accepted method of getting over the thing was to all join hands in a line,and hold onto each other as we kinda go down then up again.

Its a bit of a bugger,however for the 1st and last person. More so for the last. Which was usually a kinda slow,nerdy kid. Which was usually me.

So every week,i fell into a muddy shithole. Or was dragged. Ill never know.
(, Fri 31 Mar 2006, 16:59, Reply)

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