Intramural Horror Stories: Misplaced Racism And Dislocated AnklesYesterday, we asked you to send us your horror stories about intramural sports, and you did not disappoint. Please enjoy the first installment of Intramural Horror Stories, and please continue to send us your wretched tales of recreational athletic disasters.

Alan:

Was playing in a flag football game just this past Monday night. Was going out for a pass. QB threw the ball high so I had to jump for it. I caught it, but when I came down I landed on my ankle very, very wrong. The pictures explain that. Medics had to be called to get me off the fields and taken to a hospital. Suffered a dislocated ankle that has since been reset, as well as three broken bones in my foot that will require surgery.

If you would like to see pictures of Alan's horrifying ankle injury, then click here and here.

Dexter:

I'm an approximately average looking 22 year old white man. I lead with this not because I think it is critically important to defining me as a person, but because without that knowledge, the punchline of this story might make less sense.

I was refereeing a co-ed game between a team of Law School douchebros and sorority girls and a team from the School of Social Work. The future social workers were trouncing the law students (the difference at halftime was like 20 points) and a couple plays into the second half, they started to take out some of their better players.

One gentleman who thought he was Kobe (at 5'6'' and slightly rotund, with spiky blonde hair) was still in for the social workers, though. He got the ball in transition, and called his own number. He drove to the hole, and I moved with him. He had two defenders basically keeping pace with him as he ran up the court. He drove the lane. He picked up the ball at the free-throw line. He travelled. Because it was a blowout, I didn't call it. His fourth step was the one he used to propel himself to the basket. As he layed the ball up, both defenders swung at him. Both missed, in the awkward way that centers with short arms often do. The shot missed. On seeing that he had missed, Kobe FutureSocialWorker turned to me, threw wide his hands and shouted so the whole gym could hear, "Call a FOUL, you pussy-ass N****R"

Pete:

My senior year I am supervising flag football among the freshmen halls. Being freshman they made these kids bus all the way out to some far flung fields in the middle of nowhere. I did not even know these fields existed prior to this day. There are probably 5-6 games going on simultaneously. Suddenly there is a sickening crack and a blood curdling scream. One of the freshmen is down and a good portion of his femur bone is sticking out of his leg. I grab the first aid kit and run over. No way am I prepared for this. I more or less dump out the contents of the first aid kit and the kids friends ham fist their way through trying to give this kid some basic first aid, but no one really knows what to do. And this kid is screaming his head off and going into shock.

I try to give some direction, but mostly what I come up with is to try to block the kids view of his own skeleton emerging from his skin by putting my IM Supervisor jacket over the leg. I walkie talkie into the Athletic Department and tell them to call an ambulance and describe what's happening. 20 minutes or so later an ambulance arrives along with what appears to be the entire town fire department.

As I am waiting for all this to happen I ask the kid his name and try to keep him calm and coherent as I am afraid he is going to pass out from shock. He tells me his name. I check it against the team he is playing for and he is not on the list – He checked in under a different name. Turns out the guy was a brother at a frat some of the freshman were pledging and he was supposed to be the ringer. What kind of fucking loser plays ringer for a freshman hall?. They ended up having to heli-vac the kid out of there (which was awesome!) and from then on we had to check ID's before every game.

Bryce:

Moving onto the second game. The 2nd quarter rolls around and we put in the subs, which was mostly the 3 guys who were the most out of shape so they could only give us 10-ish minutes a game. One of these guys, Let's call him Aaron, got super duper stoned right outside the athletic complex right before the game. As he enters into the game he takes one of their 5'5'' guards on defense. The guy he's guarding can't dribble without looking at the ball. He dribbles into a corner and to his credit, Aaron trapped him at half court between a back court violation and the out of bounds line.

Our league had the five second rule, meaning if you were closely guarded and didn't attempt to pass or dribble away from the man defending you it was a turnover. We watched as the ref started to count to 5. Finally right as he passed it the ref blew his whistle and called the 5 seconds closely guarded. Our team erupted, as did the guy who caused it.

Next thing we know, with his hands high in the air, he just starts vomiting all over the court. I mean projectile vomiting hitting at least three players in the chest and another 5-6 with the splatter. It was everywhere. It was so bad the game playing next to us on another court stopped to watch.

Finally he stop and stumbles out a side gym door and lays flat on his back passed out. The ref kept trying to get him to come back to clean it up but the other team had already left due to their shirts being just covered in vomit. We had to carry him back to the dorm and luckily the janitors were on the other court, so they cleaned it up.