In Middle School in the mid- to late-70’s, we played a game with the VERy un-pC name of “Smear the Queer.” If outsiders were around, we’d refer to it as “Dogpile.” Basically, it was the Bizarro World form of Keep-away. A group of kids would gather 'round. A dodgeball was thrown in the air. If it fell towards you, you had to catch it – and then throw it away again very quickly, as the object of the game was to jump on whovere held the ball.
They were the Queer. Mission: Smear. Lots of bruises, lots of grass-stains, but never any hard feelings or even tears. Kids are so bendable!
I’m with you on your theory. I think this whole atmosphere of “What about the chiiiiiildren” is ruining our society. When I was a kid, you’d BETTER fall off your bike and you BETTER deal with it or someone would have knocked you off it just to give you a taste of the real world!
See, I think the lawsuits stem from the parents’ touchy-feely-keep-the-kids-from-conflict attitude. No one considered suing the school if a kid broke an arm in a touch-or-tackle football game back in the day. Parents either want to make a few bucks or they can’t bear the thought of Little Anglepuss getting an owie. Either way, it’s not cool.
We had a much more direct name for it: Kill The Guy With The Ball (could be shortened to Kill The Guy). Oh, except you had to hold on to the ball for at least 10 seconds before tossing it to someone else.
Lordy, I remember that game. You learned to be very quick. I also recall that it was a lot of fun, even when you were on the bottom of the pile.
What we need in this country is the courts to start tossing stupid “My kid scraped her knee and it’s all your fault!” lawsuits out, and fine the filers thousands of dollars for wasting everybody’s time. Kids get hurt…it’s part of being a kid. Suck it up and get back in the game, ya wimps!
Sounds like she has the grounds for a solid psychological distress suit. :rolleyes:
“and then Billy, that little boy who’s always running too fast… he… he… almost bumped into Johnny, that nice little boy who paints those flowers…” :eek:
When I was in high school, we played flag football for PE.
But our rules said it was OK to tackle the runner, then pull his flags off while you were sitting on him.
I made it through six weeks of that unscathed (playing both offensive and defensive line - not bad for a girl), and then shredded a ligament on the first day that we switched to soccer.
We used to play a game called War Ball in 10th or 11th grade gym class. Basically the class was split into two teams that were lined up on opposite sides of the gym. Everyone had one of those red rubber balls, and when the war started you all started hurling them at the other team. That was mayhem, I remember that only lasted for a few weeks before someone put a stop to it.
And indoor hockey with the plastic hockey sticks, we heard no swinging above the knee" over and over, but inevitably someone would get hit in the head or face pretty much every game. That didn’t last too long either.
We used to have pinecone fights. No one got hurt unless they caught a pinecone in the face… oh, and the kid who fell off our deck and broke his spleen (later removed).
As kids, it taught us much needed lessons. Don’t stop a pine cone with your face and don’t fall off of decks.
I play a game with my kids called Kill the Brats. They ( the brats ) run around & I try to hit them with a tennis ball / rolled up sock / whatever roughly-spherical projectile I can find at the moment.
For my sons 9th birthday (last month), my father got him a box of those “Ninja Throwing Stars” - you know, the pointy kind made of real metal. We bought a 4x8 sheet of plywood, drew us a lifesize target, and spent the afternoon lobbing stars at it. I havent’ had that kind of fun since…well, since I was his age.
We played the un-PC game, Hillbilly Tackle. One kid would stand in the middle of the yard and everyone else would run to the other side. You’d tackle someone, then they’d help you tackle others, until there was one sap left…who got piled on royally. We beat the living snot out of each other playing that game.
My old elementary school no longer has either of these old playground favorites. The local park no longer has the plain old strip-of-plastic swings–every swing in the park is one of those lock-your-child-in-because-Og-forbid-he/she-moves jobbies. Apparently, no one over the age of six is allowed to enjoy swings anymore.
Kids need to get hurt. I’ve polled a good percentage of my friends (aged 25-35) and discovered that the vast majority of us learned not to stick something in a power outlet by … (say it with me) … sticking something in a power outlet. We learned not to touch the stove the hard way. We had tetanus shots and stitches and broken limbs, and we all look back on it fondly.
I don’t think we should let them run about with no rules, I think bike helmets (and even outlet covers) are a good idea, but I’ve still got gravel embedded in my knees at age 30, and dammit, my kids will, too.
Heh, that reminds me of the game we played called “War” in elementary school gym (early 80s for me). Remember those horrible little scooter things they had then? They were squares of wood with a wheel at each corner, and the wheels could go in any direction at any time (which made it easy to run over your own hand or the hands of your classmates, which was either a good or a bad thing, depending on how much control you had).
Anyway. We played War with balls of nylon rather than rubber, so they didn’t hurt when they hit – mostly you had to avoid the wheels of the scooters, mentioned above. Class split in two teams, with one “medic” per team. Everyone is laying belly-down on a scooter and paddling it along the floor with their hands and feet, throwing nylon balls at one another. If you got hit, you were out and had to yell “MEDIC!” at the top of your lungs. A medic would then drag you and your scooter to the boundary line, where you were “healed” and bcame a medic yourself, thus responsible for rescuing others. If you got hit trying to rescue someone, down you go and need another medic rescue. Last team with someone left on a scooter wins. God, it was fun. I squashed my fingers badly quite a few times, but the price was worth paying.
We played War, but I later discovered that the rest of the world called it Dodge Ball.
Oh, dear lord, the scooters. We used to play kickball on those things. I remember thinking at 8 years old that they were decidedly unsafe. But damn, they were fun if you kept your hands out of the way.
When I was a kid, we battled it out with green pine cones and BB guns. (I know the BB guns were too dangerous. Luckily no one lost an eye.) Loved dodgeball, king-of-the-hill, all that <gasp> dangerous shit. Got hurt all the time. Got well, too, and learned from my mistakes…mostly.
My daugher’s (private pre-k) school does this, and this is the peanut capitol of the world, for God’s sake. For one child. I was sorely tempted to tell them that she was allergic to cheese and bread, and demand that either a) all such foodstuffs be banned, or b) that PB&J be allowed and the One Child restrained from getting too close to any peanut fumes. (She isn’t really allergic to cheese or bread, but PB&J sandwiches are her absolute favorites and I love to stir up shit with unreasonable people.)
Fortunately, the calmer and more rational parent in our house reminded me of what a bitch it was to get our daughter into this school in the first place; but just where does does this foolishness end?
(The answer, apparently, is with peanut products.)
) run around & I try to hit them with a tennis ball / rolled up sock / whatever roughly-spherical projectile I can find at the moment.