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habeasdorkus posted:At Learnington, October 19, 2013 Pretty sure that should be Leamington. It's really interesting seeing things from a low-league perspective for once, since I usually play as my local team and thus only see the top couple leagues in Scotland.
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Nov 24, 2013 12:36
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| # ¿ May 15, 2024 12:07 |
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The Most Embarassing Thing I've Seen In Sports Back when I was in the Cub Scouts, there was a Saturday football league at the local playing fields between the local packs. In our third game of one of these Saturday sessions (each week saw 3 games of about 30 minutes each, for a total of about 2 hours of time on the fields including warmups and such), one of my team-mates pointed out that one of our opponents was acting a bit weird. Being ten years old, we figured he was just a weird kid and left it at that. A few minutes later, while our goalie was retrieving the ball from the next pitch over so he could take a goal kick, we noticed the same kid wander over to the woods at the edge of the playing fields, get behind a tree that wasn't even close to thick enough to hide him as he dropped his shorts and squatted down. So a kid poo poo in the woods after spending an hour or so running around, big deal. It was what he did next that earns this story it's title. Having finished up, the kid pulled his underwear and shorts up, then sat down nearby and started taking one of his boots off. By this point, most of the kids on our pitch are staring at the kid, more interested in what the gently caress he's up to than the goalie returning with the ball. He stripped off his sock, a plain knee-high football sock, turned it inside-out and put it on his hand, picked up his fresh, steaming turd and unrolled the sock off his arm. He then tied the top of the poo poo-filled sock in a knot, threw it over the nearby fence into the woods, put his boot back on his now-bare foot and trotted back to rejoin the game as if nothing happened. The opposition's coach/pack leader immediately took him back to the changing rooms, presumably to call the kid's parents, while the rest of us tried to get back to our game. It was made sure that everyone had been to the toilet before leaving the changing rooms after that. A policy that Wrexham will also implement when I am elected club president!
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Feb 26, 2014 02:24
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A familiar sight, the boss man at his desk, The God-King of Wrexham now facing a test; A knocking sounds out, another young protégé No doubt here to complain of how little they play Despite knowing full well they are not first-team-ready... Brown's knuckles turn white, but he must remain steady. After all, this nonsense has happened before And, cursing his choice to keep an open door, “Come in” he says, and looks up to see Which ungrateful prick is the new complainee; The door creaks slowly open, one young man enters in, The boss relaxes, his grimace morphs to a good-natured grin, He kicks back and rests his feet up on the table: “What can I do for you Rocky Bastable?” “This doesn't have to go outside of this office”, The lad starts his practiced speech, seeming uncertain of this, “But I've done all I can in this corner of Wales, So I want to be sold in the January Sales.” His nerve seems to crack, the words come out in a tumble, The boss's grin falters at this half-expected grumble. Regaining composure, he sits up and reassures: “Believe me, my boy, my ambitions match yours, I want you to face the very best in the game To bask in the glory, crowds chanting your name, To collect all of the silverware, every last bit, I just want to see you do it in that red Dragons kit. To help you to achieve I'll do all that I'm able, But you're staying at Wrexham, Rocky Bastable.” The young man is shocked at the total denial, But he stops, breathes in deeply, and holds back the bile. “I appreciate what you're saying, boss, don't get me wrong, But to put it quite plainly, I can't wait that long. And everyone knows that only this winter, You've turned away Napoli, and twice denied Inter! And as if this news wasn't already momentous, There's talk that I've caught the eyes of Juventus. I get that you want me here, but I want to go far, And I'd be much better suited to playing in Serie A. Why are you being such a damned oval office about this?” The boss interrupted, slammed his desk with his fist, Stood up from his seat, and with a voice calm and stable, Said “Now sit the gently caress down.” To Rocky Bastable. “I've heard what you've said,” he began, voice laden with doom, “Something's made you unhappy, or so I assume. But I thought I made it clear that if that were the case, You should have the loving balls to say as much to my face. So what is it, boy, what has your head craning To make eyes at those bastards in the Mediterranean? Is the training too hard? Or is it my failure To give you free reign to gently caress off to play for Australia? Is that it, you bastard? Do you think I'm short-sighted For keeping you here to play Man-loving-United While your country fucks about in some no-name competition? You dare come in here and lecture me about ambition? I've seen future stars before, boy, and you deserve that label But there's some poo poo that needs set straight here, Rocky Bastable.” “While it's true, you have the talents to one day be a star, Need I remind you I signed you from a club in loving Qatar? I plucked you from the desert, brought you here to grow and feed In the fertile soccer soil of the drat Premier League And while Wrexham might not be home to a megabastard yet, Don't you loving dare tell me you have any regrets. I kept playing you no matter what, through thick and through thin, I cheered you from the sidelines when you were banging them in. If I had had less faith in you, in the weeks you had not scored, Do you think that on your own you'd have that Golden Boot award? Or been named in the whole league's Team of the loving Year? Because from what you've said today, I must make this perfectly clear: While without me you may have been perfectly able, I loving made you, Rocky Bastable.” The young Aussie sat stunned, unsure what he should do He had never before known the coach to turn the air so blue. He rose slowly to his feet, started to move towards the exit, Mumbled somewhat sullenly about feeling disrespected. And left the boss alone again, the silence laying thick, Broken only softly by the wall-clock's gentle tick. The boss man sighed, sat at his desk and poured A glass of the fine scotch whisky he'd been gifted by the board He tried so hard to bring these talents in and make them feel at home It hurt to see them treat Wrexham as merely a stepping stone Toward certain English clubs, or even those on foreign shores, But his thoughts were soon cut short by another rapping at his door. He forced himself to smile, and looking up asked gaily, “So what can I do for you today, Justin bloody Bailey?” And this is why reading LPs whilst bored at work is a bad idea.
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May 17, 2014 03:28
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