When I was in grammar school I dreaded gym class. I was never very fast or especially talented sports-wise, and the coach never passed up an opportunity to remind me and others like me, just how physically inept we were.
I couldn’t help but to cringe when I read this article about bad coaches published over at Slate. Readers wrote in and the worst stories appear in the article, and fortunately I never experienced a coach quite as bad as the ones described in the article.
In high school I opted out of playing football (big surprise there) and consequently got stuck in the PE class with all the other “winners.” One of the activities we were supposed to participate in was “Frisbee golf.” One afternoon while playing this Olympic-like game it began to rain and we were forced to continue our game in the gymnasium. Our PE teacher, an enormously fat woman who always wore shorts that looked like they were designed for eleven-year-olds, had previously yelled at us for goofing off and demanded that we took the game more seriously. As she turned to go back and purchase another candy bar from the vending machine someone, and I promise I do not know who, launched a Frisbee at the back of her head.
I’ve never been more pleased by a “thwack” sound than I was on that day. She yelled at us the for the rest of the class, but man, it was sure worth it.