Sports News Without Fear, Favor or Compromise
Sports News Without Fear, Favor or Compromise

Intramural Horror Stories: Post-Concussion Symptoms And Hanging Dong

Welcome to Intramural Horror Stories, in which readers tell us about all the awful things that happened to them while participating in intramural sports.



A couple of years ago in an intramural basketball game, I was shoved into a wall. After I stumbled to the bench, they thought I was going to be ok. However, once I couldn't get water into my mouth from my cup, they called for an ambulance. At the hospital, they diagnosed me with a severe concussion. The best part of the story is that my friends filmed my conversations in the hospital and it is now posted on YouTube (video above). Summary of the video- I have about a 15 second memory. Scary and funny at the same time.


It was a Monday, the first night of football season, and the Powder Puff league played on Mondays. The league was populated mostly by sorority teams, with one notable exception: the rugby girls. The rugby girls were the 1972 Dolphins and 1985 Bears combined, not only were they dominant, they clearly enjoyed stomping out the prissy sorority girls.

On this night, the rugby team was matched up against one of the "bitchy" sororities, who had less than stellar football talent. Inexplicably, the sorority team was up by a touchdown late in the first half. The rugby team had become visibly frustrated and I had told them to calm down. Then all hell broke loose.

The best player on the sorority team took a hand-off and was streaking up the sideline for a long gain. It just so happened this was the sideline I was tasked with patrolling. While trailing the play, I see one of the rugby girls, taking a perfect pursuit angle, closing in on the runner. However, instead of pulling the flag like the rules indicate, the rugby player launches herself, Brandon Meriweather style, into the chest of the runner. The only way I can describe the aftermath is that it looked as if the runner had been hit squarely by a speeding car. She went flying 5 feet in the air before landing squarely on her back.

She was knocked out cold, I immediately called for our staff "medic", a doughy kid who had cpr training. His immediate assessment was, "I think she is breathing." So, I called an ambulance. By the time the paramedics arrived the injured player had come back into consciousness enough to cuss out the "ugly girl" (her words) who hit her, all the while still motionless on the ground. As the paramedics were treating the injured girl the scene had devolved into chaos. A very physical confrontation began between the two teams, which none of the intramural employees could seem to settle down. One of the paramedics had to radio a police unit to come quell the rumble. I would learn later, that the entire on-duty staff of the small town's fire and police department were eventually called to the scene to deal with the aftermath of the hit, both the injury (a broken collar bone) and the resulting melee.


My freshman year (fall of 97), I was playing on a team with some guys I had met in my dorm. When we got to the field, there were a couple dozen girls sitting on the sidelines.

I was wearing a t-shirt, shorts and compression shorts underneath. I had worn these same biker shorts all throughout high school football instead of underwear. They were a little beat up, but they kept everything in place.

Late in the game, I caught a pass and was running up the sidelines, when an opposing player swiped for my flags. Instead, he caught my waistband and completely ripped my shorts. They fell to the ground and I ran in for a touchdown. I tossed the ball to the referee, picked up my shorts and jogged back to our sideline. As I ran past; the girls were all giggling so I smiled and gave them a "what can I say?" shrug. I was convinced I had just pulled the smoothest move ever. When I got to the sidelines, one of my teammates handed me a pair of sweatpants and said "put these on, your dick is out of your shorts". My beat up biker shorts had a hole in the crotch for a couple years, but it had never been an issue until that day. I was mortified.



I was reffing a flag football game between two frats. The score was tied going into the final minutes, and the boys were testosteroning themselves up. With about a minute to go, one guy caught a short pass and took off down the sideline. He had a clear path, and he was sprinting for his life, and somehow... inexplicably... I blew the whistle. Not loudly, but there it was.

Now, I'm an athletic girl, and I watch football, and I know how the game is played. I still don't know how I managed to blow the whistle at that moment. No defender was even near enough to touch the guy. But of course, the defending team started screaming, "Play's dead! Play's dead!" while the other team charged at me, screaming, "Why did you blow the whistle?! What's the call!?" I had no idea what to do next. The guy clearly would have scored, but ... I had blown the play dead.

I don't remember how the game ended. I don't even remember how I ultimately ruled on that play, though I know I wanted to give the guy the touchdown. I don't remember anything, because I spent the next 10 minutes being surrounded by red-faced, screaming, spittle-spewing guys. I kept saying, "It was a MISTAKE! RELAX, PEOPLE! I AM ONLY GETTING PAID SIX DOLLARS AN HOUR FOR THIS!" But they were angry and moblike, and I started to fear for my safety. I finally left the field, shouting, "I'm just a STUDENT! LIKE YOU! BACK OFF!" while one bro trailed me all the way to the parking lot.