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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.

Not really a sports day story but more a sports lesson one.
I went to a 'harming' school just down the road from me, now this 'lovely' school had some nice teachers in it but none were as 'nice' as the PE teacher Mr Coen (cant remember the spelling). Now at the tender age of 12 I was already hitting 5,1/2 feet and was as lanky as a scarecrow and as a result I hated sports.

To counter the problem of being shouted at by the 'lovely' teacher (who had a fetish for watching young boys shower, as all PE teachers do) I decided to skip class. How did I do this? I simply sat in the changing rooms and didnt move. I blended perfectly into the backgorund and no-one noticed me doing this for 3 weeks.

Anyway I get noticed, teacher asks me what the hell I am playing at and I simply explain that I dont want to do PE and its my choice blah blah etc etc to be met with

"You are one lying caniving little git, FUCK OFF OUTTA MY SIGHT!!"

So I did, I went home and told my parents, who were a little alarmed at seeing their son come home at 10am, one hour after they dropped him off. One very short high speed drive to the school later and I saw a grown man cry. My mother has a scary temper and is a soprano singer so she can scream like a banshee.

Anyway having a teacher apologise in writing is one of the best things to have......until you lose it.

(, Mon 3 Apr 2006, 22:39, Reply)
Beethoven's Underwater Overture
Not my story; tenuous link to sports 'day' but..

My dad always tells the story of his 'rough as arseholes' comp where the kids protested against swimming by pushing the school's only resource worth anything straight into the pool: a piano donated by the local council.

Kids & sports.
Not so much oil & water..
(, Mon 3 Apr 2006, 19:49, Reply)
im a rather violent person by nature, despite being a girl
and im not amazing at sports, but i do try anyway.

one such PE lesson, we were playing rounders, and i was up for batting.
i tend to hit the ball quite hard, but not really aiming properly. this lack of aim caused the rounders ball (as in solid, not a tennis ball) to hit the person on second base in the knee.
she crumpled to the floor. and i walked over to her and nudged her with my foot, and told her to walk it off.
it turns out id broken her knee cap, and she couldnt walk for about 3 months, and cant do any kind of physical activity that involves running.

another time in gymnastics (compulsory) i tied my friends hands together behind her back by her thumbs with a bobble (hair tie) and pushed her over.
she broke her thumb and tore the ligament. she had to have an operation and have her hand in a cast for 8 months.
surprisingly, we're still best friends
(, Mon 3 Apr 2006, 19:38, Reply)
Prior to paedophiles and gays, we used to get changed in one room, with about 30 boys.
On the day of sports day, I pulled my trousers to change into my shorts and caught my underpants, pulling them right down to my ankles. It was only when I felt a perculiar breeze across my 'man'hood and everyone pointing and laughing at my direction, I had realised I had just given EVERY body in my class a free 5 second display of my pre-pubescant cock and balls.
Fucking great.
(, Mon 3 Apr 2006, 18:38, Reply)
Sports Day Certificate
Before the days of printers, etc, we had a really old stodgy photocopier that was yellow and used a lot of expensive ink. It was rarely used because the school was so stingey.
It was used to copy the School Sport's Day Certificate. It was on thin, cheap blue paper, and the 10th generation copy made the text blur and go fatter.
The most important thing about it, was it also had a sad copy of a boy running in a race, and I swear it was me, I used to look at it and wonder if they had taken a photo of me in a previous race and stuck it on. I'm sure they would have told me, and to this day I guess I'll never know.
(, Mon 3 Apr 2006, 18:34, Reply)
See i was pretty good at sports so this meant that the teachers liked me a little bit more than those that weren't.

Fucking marvellous eh.

Of course, i was pretty average at the lessons so that helped to balance things out a bit.
(, Mon 3 Apr 2006, 17:37, Reply)
Never do athletics wearing boxer shorts...
400 meters.
4 of us doing it.
I'm comfortably in front at the 200 meters point, mainly due to being the only non-smoker (at the time) doing it...

Just rounding the final curve for the 100 meters straight finish when my dangly bits decide they've had enough of all this jostling around whilst running malarky and decide to get some fresh air and say hello to everyone lined up along the side of the track for that last 100 meters...
"flippity floppity Hello everyone!"
Oh. Fuck.

Cue me trying to finish the race by slowing to a crawl and trying to shove my cock and balls back inside my shorts...

In the end, I crossed the line walking with my hand covering what was still poking out. Dunno if people just thought I was being a cock and showing off by walking the last 25 meters and still finishing first or just that I was showing my cock off to everyone...no-one ever mentioned anything so I guess the former...

Still, not the most enjoyable experience for a 14/15yr old boy in front of half the school.
No apologies for length, that's what caused it all in the first place.
(, Mon 3 Apr 2006, 17:30, Reply)
The joys of unsupervised PE
During school PE lessons, as you got higher up in the school you were given the option of what you wanted to do, so all the 'cool' guys went off to play football or whatever. My friends and myself opting for tennis, in the courts round the back of the PE block, seemingly ignored by teachers. After about one day of playing 'real' tennis we got bored and reinvented it as 'crazy tennis' which was basically us twatting about with tennis balls, occasional volleys, trying to hit each other and so on. One mighty game was a normalish round that was played over the whole tennis court area - four courts side by side, basically hitting it as hard as you can to get it to the other end, then a fight between everyone playing at the other end to reach it first and hit it back.
We got into a bit of trouble after managing to lose something like 12 tennis balls to the row of trees and road hiding behind that bordered one side of the courts.

There was also the day it pissed down, which should have been an oppertunity to hide inside the changing rooms, but were bored so decided to play anyway, que about four guys running about in the pissing rain twatting about with tennis balls.

They did decide to drag us indoors and get us to do PE 'properly', namely basketball.
We organised beforehand a set of signals (usually odd words shouted out) and corresponding actions. Hence suddenly 3/4 of the players dropping to the ground and 'breakdancing' or rolling from one end of the court to the other, plus other nonsense like one guy who decided to drop and roll his way past people when he got the ball and so on

(, Mon 3 Apr 2006, 16:20, Reply)
Crivens jings an' help me bowb!
Back in the days of little responsibility, I worked for a summer school teaching English language. This was held at Fettes, a rather posh, large public school (thats a school you pay a LOT for, to you non Brits) in Edinburgh. Tony Blair went there. As did many other important people, I'm told. (not me though, I went to a pissy high school beside a rough estate) But I digress. This school had a swimming pool and the staff decided, upon one lonley boring night when the students were off doing naughty things elewhere, to go swimming, and whence there, to have a swimming competition. The director of the school was a very lovley Scottish lady by the name of Jerry, with a marvelous sense of humour, but had rather let herself go the past 20 years and become a large jolly lady. She decided to challenge one of the young, spritly staff members, an 18 year old student weighing in at slighty under 10 stone. "you're fuckn' on" cries he, for Jerry, as mentioned, is far from having an athletic build. A wager is placed, and witnessed by myself. The princly sum of a tenner was at stake. 2 lengths of the pool was the distance, there and back again to quoth the Hobbit. They line up. Jerry has a slight smirk on her face. Young lad starting to look worried. The race begins: and Jerry is fucking gone - I mean gone, takes off like a rocket, NOTHING is stopping her, save running out of water. By the time she reaches the end of 1 length, she's got nearly a quater of the pool in the lead. By the time she wins, and wins she does, young lad has barely turned around at the far end. Turns out Jerry used to swim for Scotland and despite size, has enough speed left in her to whip the arse of 18 year old men.Fair bloody play like.
(, Mon 3 Apr 2006, 15:06, Reply)
100 Metre Sprint...
...My little brother is disabled (Gawd bless 'im) and at his school sports days was forced to participate in the 100 metre sprint.
This would be ok, apart from his disability ensures that he isn't very steady on his feet.
Still everyone eggs him on, the teachers have ensured he knows which direction to run in, and he's wearing his shoes on the right feet.
Its a hot sunny day, everyone is at the line, and 'GO' they're off...
He runs as fast as he can, and about 30 seconds after everyone else crosses the line, my brother is about 5 metres from finishing.
At this point he stops and vomits his guts up, and then walks across the line. You gotta love him. He was never asked to participate in sports day again.
(, Mon 3 Apr 2006, 13:28, Reply)
It Wasn't Ment To be
Just to set the tone of the story, at school i was one fo the sporting crowd, sprinted for the county, never picked last in games etc..

Anyway its 1999 and im in my final year of college, a strapping 16 year old all ready for his final sports day (how i miss them). I've been training all year, pushing myself to near comatose to knock a few milli-seconds of the all important time of the 100m event.

Step back further in time, every since i was young ive alway been 2nd best in the schools ive been to, some chutney ferret called Robert being the best. Every year he beats me,this has gone on for near 10 years. Try as i might i cant leaglly beat the sod.

Back to 1999, and the day before the hollowed event, and im feeling like shite. Dizzy, Sore Throat, Flu etc. That night i say a prayer to the god of Lem-sip and go to bed. Next morning im still shite, only this time with odd spots over me, hmmm i think never mind lets get ready for school and the sports day.

The time arrives and im lined up on the track, Robert next to me. The usual plesantrys are observed and away we go............ I Come last. Robert has a big grin on his face. Turns out i had the start of Chicken Pox at the age of 16, im sure you can imagine how bad it was.

Anyway due to that day im now a 15 stone lazy sod who plays computer games.
(, Mon 3 Apr 2006, 13:18, Reply)
Goo dat games? Moi?
I didn't even get to take part in sports days, I was so crap. I was in the games group that was just above the one that contained the asthmatics, the epileptics and the girl with the metal arm, and this was only because I didn't actually have a disability. To make matters worse, I was tall, slim and athletic-looking, so people actively expected me to be good at games. Which I was not.

Probably becuase of this I used to have endless Bunty-esque fantasies of the 'previously-untapped- talent-mysteriously-comes-to-the-fore-and-Clapper-saves-the-day-in a-games-related-way' type.

What actually happened was things like:

Actually having an opportunity to realise these fantasies by actually being asked to stand in as goalie in a hockey match against the posh school down the road.
1) I had never been in goal ever
2) I was mildly hungover due to vast performance anxiety
3) Did I mention I was crap?
4) They won 11-0
5) Instant pariah-ness beckoned

Being in a swimming gala in the juniors. Again, in my mind, I was actually winning my race! This would show them, all the naysayers that thought I couldn't do it! My arms and legs were thrashing and the water was pounding in my ears. And then I felt a sharp crack on my head. Not only was I last by really quite a long way, but somehow I had become confused, turned a 90 degree angle, and swam straight across all the lanes and into the side of the pool. Truly, the echoes of the 'bless-her' style applause as I gamely struggled to the end will haunt me for ever.

These days, I am tall, slim, still look athletic and am fit and healthy due to a discovered love of running around doing fitness related things. But organised sport? You can keep it.
(, Mon 3 Apr 2006, 12:39, Reply)
not a sports day just rugby
A few years back when i was at school we were all forced on a friday afternoon to play rugby from 1 till 4, being a grammer school and all there was no option for "pussy football" and the like, twas "propper sports" rugby and cricket and the like. Neways, myself being the not so sporty type and not really understanding why i would want to run around on a cold a muddy field chasing a ball while the bigger lads took great pride in jumping ontop of you, during the entirity of year 11 both myself and good mate at the time promplty fucked off to the pub.

The ensuing dilema of "we would get caught" was esily resolved as the teachers never bothered with a role call and marked everyone present for rugby every damned week. Yet upon returning to the after school social hangout (costa coffee, when you could still smoke in there) no one else would belive that we has been sitting in a nice warm pub with a beer rather than running around freezing our asses off. This was recified the only way we knew how to prove it, by getting totaly trollied midday on a schoolday when everyone else was watching thier arse while taking a shower as the games teachers used to watch you to make shure all the mud was washed off. Yet we both got just that little bit too drunk and ended up falling down some very very steep flights on stairs at the coffe house.

Lengh and girth, Just take it and quit complaining
(, Mon 3 Apr 2006, 11:37, Reply)
Darren bought in a Yank Aluminium baseball bat.
Gavin (tallest spotty 'erbert in class) steps up all testosterone and confidence.
ball is tossed
Gavin swings...connects...slightly
Ball cannons off bat....
and smashes Gavins nose all over his face...
Makes a cool Ka-Chock! noise
Gavin starts to cry...and leaves pitch


In a weird twist of fate, Darren is now my brother-in-law...
(, Mon 3 Apr 2006, 11:32, Reply)
For the high jump.
Not being particularly athletically inclined at school I was, for some reason, put into the high-jump competition.

All well and good thinks I - some minor humiliation as I exit the competition early on. I was rather worried though about the school equipment though - the high-jump bar was of a rather solid steel construction and looked a lot like scaffolding.

I run up. I attempt the 'scissors' technique that pre-dates the fosbury flop. I cock up and execute a rather fine flying kick.

Bruce Lee himself would have been proud as I made contact with the bar, kicking it sideways into the side of one of the guys standing beside it (waiting to reset the jump for the next person). He screams in pain. And then screams some more as the support pole for the high-jump falls onto his head.

Oh well. Never got made to do that again.
(, Mon 3 Apr 2006, 11:28, Reply)
Interform swimming
Never seen a swimming pool at another school, but although ours was small, I think it was quite good.
Each year, we had to vote for captains for the various inter form activities throughout the year. Some of the lest competitively minded people in my class decided it would be a good laugh to vote for the only kid who couldnt swim, and was terrified of water. He won, didnt compete in any evens, and as expected, we did shit. The only event I remember us doing well in, was the wading event. For this we used our 6ft7 skinny giant, who was the only person who could get his legs out of the water, and promptly won by a country mile.
(, Mon 3 Apr 2006, 10:59, Reply)
The discus landed a good few metres beyond those of my fellow competitors. I was victorious!

I was mobbed from all sides by women and gays. They grasped at my nether regions. Some of the younger pupils nibbled at my loose skin with their milk teeth, causing me to emit a satisfied cooing sound.

This went on for some time. Even the teachers got in on the action. Mrs. Hall, the maths teacher, was delighted to find that I had successfully managed to erect a perpendicular, while Mrs. Watson, my science teacher, was keener than ever to take me for a biology practical. The IT teacher taught me to transfer my floppy to a hard drive and I tried to plug my joystick into her GUI interface. The head of Geography, Mr. Clarke, showed me the warmth of his gulf stream as he deposited his smooth sediment in my estuary. The trainee Music teacher fingered my flute assuredly while at the same time beating a steady rhythm. Finally, Ms. Harper, the English teacher, was lost for words as I spoffed a sticky stream of silky silver spunk from my spongy, scarlet sword, splashing her smooth, sensual spheres with steaming semen.

The Headmaster was so impressed by my wonderful display of athleticism and sportsmanship that he demanded I show him how I could handle a javelin. I was more than happy to oblige, and took great care to demonstrate the best way to keep the end up and maintain a smooth line while ensuring a good length.
(, Mon 3 Apr 2006, 10:41, Reply)
10 step
Anyone remeber doing 10 step at Primary School. It was like a under 11s Decathlon, where you get points depending on how well you did in things like standing long jump and hundles etc.

Anyway, I digress. One such event was cricket ball throw. After completing my throws, I went to help the teacher measure and return the ball. For a reason I cant remember (Im sure I had a reason when I did it), I decided to catch the gimpy kid's best-throw-by-miles. I gave a little cheer as I was chuffed to catch it, but got a bollocking off the teacher, and everyone moaned at me for ruining that kid's best throw. No one played with me that lunchtime....
(, Mon 3 Apr 2006, 10:06, Reply)
Dare ? Thrill ? or Forgetful ?
Following my 3rd place in the non-athletically inclined discuss throw, I settled down to laugh at the competetive types sweating their way around the running track.
Year 9 girls 800m, was it possible ? had my eyes deceived me ? It appeared that one competitor had neglected to wear anything under her sports skirt that swayed as she ran. To my dying day, I shall wonder what she looked like from the front, 'cos I'll never forget what she looked like from behind.
(, Mon 3 Apr 2006, 9:10, Reply)
During my 5th (and final) year at school, I was a pretty good runner and made the final of the 200M.

However, during the heats, two other runners tied, so the teachers decided that they could both run in the final. Bad mistake, as this of course meant that there were not enough lanes for the runners and poor old me pulled the short straw and had to run outside the last lane.

Now, as we were all fit and serious 5th years and running for the County heats we were allowed to wear spikes. See where this is going yet?

Well the 200M final was the most popular for spectators as the 100M was held in the middle of the 400M track so no-one could get close. So most of the school had turned out and was lined up on the final straight with the 1st and 2nd years sitting down at the front, cos they were little.

BANG - like a whippet I was out of the blocks knowing that I had to lead from the front, and the guy on my inside was my best mate and biggest threat for 'gold'. I could hear him thudding just behind and inside left. The track straightens out and I know all I have to do is keep ahead and I would win. We pounded down the last 50M shoulder to shoulder, all I had my eyes on was the finish line and we both dived for it stooping to win. We both 'ran through' as you are supposed to do and slowed down and slapped each other on the back saying well done, with the rest of the runners trailing in our wake. The only thing was that we did not know who had won so we looked round at the finish line teachers who held the tape / stopwatch etc but they had dropped everything and were joining other teachers at the front row of spectators.

It was only when we walked back I found out that I had 'spiked' four 1st years through various parts of their fingers / hands cos the silly twats had been leaning forward to see the race. Oopps! I never felt a thing and I was too busy concentrating on the race.

They put the race down as a dead heat so we both made County, where we were both spanked out of sight.
(, Mon 3 Apr 2006, 8:55, Reply)
Can't believe I forgot this one...
I shat on Richard's back in a piggy back race.
(, Mon 3 Apr 2006, 8:31, Reply)
You know, I'm surprised
that so many people on a geeky website were crap at sports back in the day. How unusual.
(, Mon 3 Apr 2006, 7:55, Reply)
Drunk at School
Somehow me and a mate worked out how to disappear from the phys ed roll, and so for two years we had about three hours a week in which to drink and smoke in the park.
Bloody bewdiful.
(, Mon 3 Apr 2006, 5:29, Reply)
At my school we had weeds, wets and fatties, I myself was a weed so not much was expected of me and that suited me just fine, During sports days I would normally only have to take part in the fun part at the end of the day which consisted of a kind of assault course where you would run through a series of fun obstacles (a kind of cheap southern version of the krypton factor). During my last year of school (and my last ever sports day) my French teacher took part in the assault course as most teachers did, but instead of ending the course by rolling over a crash matt then standing up and tagging the wall he rolled over the crash matt and slammed his head into the wall instead of tagging it.

Looking back I’m not sure what was funnier, the loud cheers after he slammed his skull against the concrete, the fact no one really seemed the care or go to his aid or the fact the following student took his face slam as his cue to start his run of the assault course.

Anyways he was a evil bastard and even now I feel no remorse about my part in laughing at his injury.
(, Mon 3 Apr 2006, 4:23, Reply)

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