Hate to kill the funny, but the N-shoes thing didn't happen in Jersey because Walmarts weren't in Jersey during the time frame, plus, with the proliferation of school districts in Jersey, there's almost no shot the kid would be in a different district between middle and high school.
My coach told me to mind my own business and then yelled to him, "YOU'RE GOING TO BURN. DO YOU HEAR ME? BUUUUURNNNN."
Reminds me of the time I was saving those orphans from that burning autism center and yelled down to the firemen holding the net, "FIFTY HOT ONES, COMIN' AT YA!"
It appears from my extensive five-minute Google research that the seagulls/alka-seltzer thing is a myth. So I feel obligated to call B.S. on that story.
I was playing freshman football for my Catholic high school in Dallas.
...Our coach was essentially a shepherd for the cannon fodder that we provided the JV squad.
It's better than being Mannlicher-Carcano fodder in Dallas.
Tenured? A middle-school coach? I call bullshit on this story, all stories in this series, and all future installments of this interminably depressing series, which cannot be redeemed even by reading it in that voice from that Christmas Story weirdo.
(I once had to sit in the car for an hour in front of a weird house in the middle of nowhere while he practiced bow and arrow with some other hillbilly out back.)
What you call "practicing bow and arrow" I call "doin' the hibbidy dibbidy."
As this was a Catholic-run league, the ref didn't hesitate to eject him from the game, as well as the gymnasium, as well as the sweet promise of eternal salvation and into the bounds of Purgatory, where, until the end of time, he was forced to do lay-up drills with Joel Pryzbilla and Chuck Nevitt.
12/14/09
/the more you know
//jersey bred
12/15/09
12/14/09
Reminds me of the time I was saving those orphans from that burning autism center and yelled down to the firemen holding the net, "FIFTY HOT ONES, COMIN' AT YA!"
12/14/09
12/14/09
To be fair, at the time he was reading The Cider House Rules for a book club.
12/14/09
12/14/09
12/14/09
...Our coach was essentially a shepherd for the cannon fodder that we provided the JV squad.
It's better than being Mannlicher-Carcano fodder in Dallas.
12/14/09
There must be something wrong with me. I was sure the next line was going to be about heroin.
12/14/09
And that's why I ran, I ran so far away. Got to get away.
12/14/09
12/14/09
12/08/09
12/07/09
Funny part was, he was the coach of the men's gymnastics team.
12/07/09
What you call "practicing bow and arrow" I call "doin' the hibbidy dibbidy."
12/07/09
12/07/09
Did anyone else have to read that sentence fragment 2-3 times just to make sure they read it right?
Coming soon: Deadspin Family Therapy Digest!
12/07/09
I was unaware that Graham James also coached high school basketball. I guess you really do learn something new every day...
12/07/09