Zero to Hero
/lurks

I couldn't swim well as a kid so feck knows why I entered the swimming day event. Instead of diving in all sleek and graceful, I sort of fell in like a sack of spuds and swam across the pool instead of down it. In front of the whole school. How we laughed (for "we" read "all but me").

Fast forward 3 years and I was the fastest 800m runner in the school for my age, and came 3rd in the town trials. Honour restored; faces of same (but 3 years older) kids from mine and other schools expecting me to fail well and truly rubbed in it. Go me !

First post, be nice.

No apologies for length or girth, never needed to anyway.
(Shirtmonkey, Tue 4 Apr 2006, 13:51, Reply)

Relay handovers....SLOW DOWN
I was a sport nut as a kid. I played everything and would try everything. The only thing was that I was quite large. I could move quickly over very short distances but would tire quickly. I was great at strength events, for 6 years at secondary school I won all the discus, shotput and javelin events and represented my region in the same. Come to the second last year and I was House Captain (Yay Tanjil). Of course I was committed to my house, even to the point where I was willing to run the first leg of the 4 x 100m relay.

I am now 6 feet 2 inches tall and about 160Kgs (370ish pounds). When I was in school I was slim by comparison but still inches taller and probably 30 kgs heavier than the closest fellow relay team member.

The gun went and I gave it all I had, keeping up for about 25 metres. By the time i had reached the handover point I was completely knackered and slowing like a skateboard with a stone under a wheel. The guy who I had to hand the baton to was a good friend and made generous allowance for my lack of speed, he ran slow to let me catch up but alas not slow enough. He was yelling at me to run faster but I was almost spent. FOr what seemed like an age I tried in vain to hand him the baton before screaming "FOR F#CK SAKE SLOW DOWN YOU BASTARD!!".

Right in front of the majority of the crowd. I don't think I have ever heard such a laugh from a crowd of sporting spectators. I also saw first hand how a person runs when you hand them the baton and making them piss their pants laughing.

At least we got the point for the house. I never ran in an athletic event again.
(unclehunty, Tue 4 Apr 2006, 13:51, Reply)

Hockey for fucks sake.
Hockey, the only field sport for which the blood crazed neanderthals we had for Teachers in this area would allow me to keep my glasses on.

The only sport in which I could actualy distinguish friend from foe and have a rough clue as to which direction I should be be facing. The only sport in which you get to carry a hitting stick as part of the game*

I enjoyed hockey, I enjoyed the running about, the bloodcurdling yells and the cries of "Fuck! leg it lads!" from the opposing team as I bore down on their now unprotected goal.

So picture the scene. Yours truely, howling like a crazed timber wolf, hair streaming out behind me** and a rapidly parting sea of blue shirts infront as I anticipate another excellent scoring moment to add to my otherwise pitiful memories of school sport.

What follows is an odd tumbling sensation and a groggy awakening to a sea of faces looking down on me around a circle of blue, blue sky.
"Right, game's over for you Duke E. get yer kit on and go home" says the hulking form of the games master.
"Ok" says I, not thinking too clearly and feeling distinctly odd.
Get kit on, shamble slowly home pausing only to throw up a couple of times and fall over once or twice. Mother takes one look at the state of me and calls 999.

Docs diagnose concussion, followed swiftly by Cracked Skull^TM. Spent a slightly dubious time in hospital having lights shone in my eyes every 20 minutes or so by nurses and wondering why I wasn't allowed to stand up.
An eventual return to school to find us one games master down and his name stricken from the register.

Turns out that one of the other players, seeing me in my usual berserker run for goal had run up behind me, raised his stick and cracked me full force across the side of the head.

When questioned as to why he'd done this, the reply "dunno sir, just sorta felt like it" was taken to be justification enough...


*Cricket doesn't count, too much standing still, not enough screaming.
**Good good, look at you man, you look like a hippy, worse, you look like an art student! You're a disgrace to the school Duke E. What are you ? A disgrace to the school sir...
( DukeEuphoria Comes highly reccomended, Tue 4 Apr 2006, 13:46, Reply)

Sparky's Silver Dreams
My one moment of sport glory: I came in second in the whole school for a splendid performance in the 100m. Three cheers and a tiger for me; for the first time the PE teacher is looking at me without a trace of irony or despair. Immediately thereafter was a 500m and I was encouraged to repeat my stellar performance and change the course of my school career.

Came dead last.

F*cksocks, thought me, and disappeared forgotten into the bushes for a comforting Benson & Hedges. I was up to about 3 packs a week. Oh, and I was 11.
(socialised_medicine quietly returns to Saskatchewan for Lurkfest 2007, Tue 4 Apr 2006, 13:42, Reply)

Twas the middle of winter
And I was at school. Well, maybe it was spring. I was at my then primary school which was the hell pit Catholic school run by those evil devil spawn women (Nuns for those that haven't figured it out).. Aaaanyhooo

It was deemed that as the pool had lost it's crust of ice - it was an outside pool that wasn't in any way, shape or form heated despite what they said.... Therefore we could swim in it.

The changing blocks were essentially wooden cabins on stilts. However, the stilts were holding the cabin off the ground leaving a clear foot of space for the wind to blow onto our little 8 year old bodies. And the cabins were see through.

The pool, once we were herded into it was just above the temparature reserved for icebergs - you dove in (or were shoved by the evil ones) and your body went into shock and you'd float to the surface in shock unable to swim.

Summer wasn't any better.

Wo Betide you if you deigned to drown - you'd get yelled at for drowning - none of that "Are you ok", no no, more "Stop drowning you pus filled bag of crap", etc.....

Trauma - Oh yes.

Long term mental issues - Definetly.

Length, girth, width, frequency - You like it good baby :-)
(james_tiger_woods is going to start his killing spree on the, Tue 4 Apr 2006, 13:39, Reply)

Be nice....
Oi, you lot slating Stusut, Brady, Jindod and any other of the more surreal posters here, stop it, eh?

Is not variety the spice of life?

I know they're not everyone's cup of tea, but there are some amongst us that enjoy reading the aforementioned posters QOTW responses. Lets face it they're alot more interesting/entertaining than dull, average tales of high school/adolescent life in middle america that seem to be more and more prevalent here these days.

If you don't like the posts... don't read them (the x in the top right hand corner of the browser window might help).

Hang on... I'm sinking... oh look, there's Gomi non sensi, Azra3l and infiniteZenMaster coming into view.

OK, I'll put my handbag away now and get on with this shit day at work.
(ralphseviltwin, Tue 4 Apr 2006, 13:18, Reply)

Sports day fun..
I have some very happy memories of my School spoorts days..

Not that I was good at (or even liked) sports. It was just that my form master was a PE teacher, and use to get his form pupils to help out with setting up the sports days.

Cue many summer days with me standing round looking busy, talking to some of my friends, while other friends were stuck inside in hot classrooms studying history and geography.
(Ok, I'll get me coat, Tue 4 Apr 2006, 13:17, Reply)

Football Frolics
Slightly off-theme but...I recall playing indoor football at school - 5-a-side sort of thing with one of those strangely hairy green footballs. Not being the glory-hunting type I found myself in defence.

Picture the scene if you will (preferably in matrix-esque slo-mo). The ball comes to me. I hoof it up the pitch. Only to hit one of the oncoming strikers right in the bollocks. He doubles over in pain. The ball rebounds to me. I go to hoof it again. This time I get him smack in the face. Job complete.

Oh, and in response to both Azrea3l and InfiniteZenMasters comments below, it is good to see both Jindod and Stusut back. You are merely evidence that AOL should revise their policy of connecting trailer parks to the internet.
(bigquack, Tue 4 Apr 2006, 12:11, Reply)

blinded by the fright
At our schoool swimming gala it was traditional for the teachers to have a race to show us how cool and sporty they were.

After we had gotten over the shock of seeing our extremely gay music teacher walking around in flowered speedos with the thickest and fluffiest back hair known to man (he was a small bald man with a passion for bassoons), the fact that our history teacher had a tattoo and the delight of our gym teacher's muscly loveliness, the race began.

It was neck-and neck for a while, but predictably the lovely gym teacher won, followed by the less ancient memebers of staff... the rear was brought up by our principal, a hideous old bag in the style of Camilla Parker-B.. Although nobody had paid much attention to her before, as she reached the pool side last everyone was rejoicing and chuckling and thus all 400+ eyes were on her as she dragged her shrunken frame out of the pool on spindly shoppingbag arms, and all eyes were still on her as the front of her swimming costume sagged down and her old-crone breasts popped right out onto the tiles.

It went a bit quiet after that, the silence punctuated only by all the teenage boys (and the gay music teacher) vomiting into the bushes.
(chesty, Tue 4 Apr 2006, 11:55, Reply)

Ball + Height + Face = Pain
Playing rounders and generally pissing about, I hit a ball about 150 Gazillion feet into the air. Now I'm showing off as I was quite good at rounders (how gay is that??) so I'm looking around showing off while the ball's up in the air.

Ok, I've got to catch it now, it's a still day, no wind, no problem. There it is, I've got my eye on it, no problem, hands up, placed right. Something distracts me, or I'm just too much of a twunt. Ball goes straight through my hands and hits the one thing behind it - my face, specifically my nose. There would have been less blood if I'd got a bucket of blood and thrown it all over my face.

I stopped showing off when playing rounders - after that. No wait, I didn't.....
(james_tiger_woods is going to start his killing spree on the, Tue 4 Apr 2006, 11:34, Reply)

Oh god, here comes wood
I remember a school swimming day. All was going swimmingly (ahahaha, I'm so witty) until I spied a lovely and well-endowed you lady bending over, pearls of moisture glistening on her voluptuous... *ahem* I'm getting carried away. Anyway, great view, but it did have some side effects that are hard to conceal when you're in your swimming gear.

It wasn't all bad; I think my cock acted like a rudder in the pool, keeping me swimming straight and true. Result!
(CaptainGoob, Tue 4 Apr 2006, 11:04, Reply)

Setting the tone for the rest of my teenage years..
I pretty much hated sports day at school. I was a fairly good runner, but I'm also a lazy little sod. Therefore, my last sports day at secondary school was spent with a couple of my friends drinking a bottle of Bacardi in the changing rooms.

This was all great, and when the gym was vacated in favour of the track events in the afternoon, we spent an hour or so flinging ourselves off the wallbars at the top of the gym and onto the high jump mats.

Incredibly fun, until a pretty irate looking History teacher burst in and informed my incredibly drunken best mate that she was due to compete in the high jump event.

Had a lot of fun watching that one.
(sporky, Tue 4 Apr 2006, 10:54, Reply)

Spacehopper race
Remember those inflatable spacehoppers you used to get, that had ears you held onto and bounced along the ground on? Well in Primary 6, my class were competing in a spacehopper race at sports day. I was never the most active child so hated the mere thought of sports day. Matters were made worse by the fact that I got lumped with the tiny, spacehopper, made for a 3 year old, which stood a mere 6 inches off the ground. It was impossible for chubby little me to bounce along for more than a few seconds, squatting so close to the ground. My main memory of the event is watching to my horror as the mong kids in my class even passed me, and seeing all the pitying looks the parents and teachers were giving me as they 'encouraged' me to finish the race, five minutes after everyone else had. Utter humiliation!
(hardcoremel, Tue 4 Apr 2006, 10:15, Reply)

Long Jump
God I remember having to do the long jump into a sand box at my local sports park..... I ran, then jumped and landed in the sand pit on my ass.

The pit didn't just contain sand, but also a whole layer of maggots where flies had laid there eggs. My fingers were deep in the sand and I could feel the mingers moving.

Ohhh happy minging days!
(ajfromuk Maybe....Maybe not, Tue 4 Apr 2006, 10:01, Reply)

In High School
In my old school, i broke the long jump, triple jump and 200m school records. One had stood for over 30 years. Still feel proud to this day.

Oh and at the end of year awards ceremony I had my hand up my birds skirt and she was playing with my meat when they unexpectadly called my name out to be given a very special award because of my triumphs. Everyones heads turned around to look at me. Im sure i mentioned in another post my birds dad was head of tech there and a fucking psychotic bastard, I had to take my hand from down her skirt and walk from nearly the back of the hall with a stonker on. I think i managed to tuck it under my belt as i got up thank god.
(PieEater, Tue 4 Apr 2006, 6:27, Reply)

Escaped Pods
Not exactly sports day, but preparation for said event:

We were doing class trials for various events (we're talking Year 10, 3rd Form, etc), and I had been put in the 200m running thing (wasn't really into the sports stuff at the time). So, it comes round for my go, and I am bolting down toward the finish line, and I'm winning, when I notice that everyone around the finish is laughing. I thought that perhaps someone had taken a tumble...

But no, the laughter was directed at my testicles, which had escaped from my shorts and were flapping about for all to see. Very, very embarrassing.
(Pleiades, Tue 4 Apr 2006, 4:16, Reply)

i went to a rather posh school
that had a sports day and the different 'houses' competed against each other during which every member of the year had to take part. now, the 1500m was particularly unpopular, and i was one of the lesser athletes, so i was given the task of making the house proud and giving the other runners a good old rogering in this event. on the day, it actually turned out to be quite a weak field, and i was secretly confident of not making an arse of myself- unfortunately, however, i came last, finishing behind a guy who had forgotten his trainers in an attempt to get out of his duty as a member of the house and been forced, as punishment, to run barefoot. at every sports day after that i mysteriously had a doctors/dentists/opticians/dinner appointment...
( clorey mcnuggety, Tue 4 Apr 2006, 1:32, Reply)

Arses
One school sports day, I had been enlisted to do the hurdles. Dunno why, cos I suck royally. Anyhoo, I sprint okay, crash headlong over the first hurdle and take out the bloke in the lane next to me. Him: broken ankle, chipped tooth and blood everywhere. Me: grazed knee. Score!

And then there was GIRTH
(Stu Moo winner of five nobble piece prizes, Tue 4 Apr 2006, 0:37, Reply)