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» I Hurt My Rude Bits, Again
Super Jonny!
Late primary school, maybe 12 years old. An asphalt playground. A friendly though competitive game of ball tig (if you're hit by the ball you become 'it'). I was a small thing back then, still a good 5 years before I made a sudden transformation from short-arse to lanky-git.
With your wits about you, ball tig is not a particularly challenging game. If you're paying attention it's possible to sidestep all but the swiftest throws. Apparently though, I wasn't being particularly bright. My best friend/worst nemesis Josh (delete as applicable) threw the ball at me, on target but unusually slow. Somehow my cunning solution to the situation was to run directly away from the ball, perfectly in-line with its trajectory.
The ball was slow, but I was slower; I wouldn't get the hang of running for another 10 years. The way my friends tell it I was oblivious to the gradually closing gap. Eventually the ball gently trapped itself under my left foot mid-stride.
I fell. No, I flew. As adrenaline made the world, gloopy and slow as treacle I managed, strangely, to lift feet and arms. My body arched forwards, crotch thrust prominently in the direction of travel; an almost balletic flight; a super-hero taking off.
I landed that way. My tenderest parts took the full brunt of gravity and hard asphalt. I wince to think of it even now. The initial white hot pain; the teary sick-bay embarrassment of explaining what I'd done; the days limping around off school; the weeks before my poor bruised little scrotum fully recovered. I did gain a spiffy new nickname though, my short flight christened me Super Jonny; not without some irony I'm sure.
Long time lurker, first time poster. Didn't feel too long at the time.
(Thu 7th Mar 2013, 21:52, More)
Super Jonny!
Late primary school, maybe 12 years old. An asphalt playground. A friendly though competitive game of ball tig (if you're hit by the ball you become 'it'). I was a small thing back then, still a good 5 years before I made a sudden transformation from short-arse to lanky-git.
With your wits about you, ball tig is not a particularly challenging game. If you're paying attention it's possible to sidestep all but the swiftest throws. Apparently though, I wasn't being particularly bright. My best friend/worst nemesis Josh (delete as applicable) threw the ball at me, on target but unusually slow. Somehow my cunning solution to the situation was to run directly away from the ball, perfectly in-line with its trajectory.
The ball was slow, but I was slower; I wouldn't get the hang of running for another 10 years. The way my friends tell it I was oblivious to the gradually closing gap. Eventually the ball gently trapped itself under my left foot mid-stride.
I fell. No, I flew. As adrenaline made the world, gloopy and slow as treacle I managed, strangely, to lift feet and arms. My body arched forwards, crotch thrust prominently in the direction of travel; an almost balletic flight; a super-hero taking off.
I landed that way. My tenderest parts took the full brunt of gravity and hard asphalt. I wince to think of it even now. The initial white hot pain; the teary sick-bay embarrassment of explaining what I'd done; the days limping around off school; the weeks before my poor bruised little scrotum fully recovered. I did gain a spiffy new nickname though, my short flight christened me Super Jonny; not without some irony I'm sure.
Long time lurker, first time poster. Didn't feel too long at the time.
(Thu 7th Mar 2013, 21:52, More)