Share your own jerky jerk sport anecdotes!

This was inspired by a few folks on our softball team (and others in the league) that I have little respect for.

Guy who gets into a yelling match with the ump over a close foul ball? You suck.

Guy who takes a strip off your girlfriend for striking out? You suck.

Guy who starts flexing his muscles, telling you how amazing he is at BADMINTON, after beating you by one point? You also suck.

And don’t get me started on the folks on their cellphone texting in the middle of any game. :mad:

I’m sure such things aren’t limited to softball. I’m sure folks on here playing racquetball/squash/volleyball/soccer/bowling/whatever that have dealt with jerks worthy of recollecting. Any interesting tales of particularly rude, obnoxious jerks worth sharing online?

Another mixed softball story.

We had a runner at first–I’ll call her Jane. The batter hit, and Jane took off for second. The fielder threw to the second baseman, a big guy; and all he had to do to get Jane out was to touch the bag, as it was a force-out. This he did, but as Jane approached, he also chose to bodycheck her. She went flying, fell in a heap, and did not get up.

Thankfully, our first baseman was a physician. He attended immediately, and after a quick look at Jane, called for an ambulance. He went with her to the hospital.

Jane was in the hospital for a week, and could not play on our team for the rest of the season. All because their second baseman wasn’t satisfied with just getting her out. Jerk.

An assault at a softball game! Lovely. :smack:

At one of my girlfriend’s first ever games, she got out on a double play at first. The umpire did the most over the top, stupid ass “YER OUUUUUUT!” scream I’ve ever heard. Worse than this guy.

I play curling. Ninety-eight percent of the players are really nice. (They’re mostly from the north country. Think Fargo: “Yah, nice sweep, thanks a bunch.”)

The other two percent make up in assholery what they lack in numbers. The assholes fall into two categories: (1) Temper Tantrum Tommy, who slams equipment and spews profanity every time he misses a shot or gets a bad break (because, you know, it’s inconceivable that such things could happen when you play a sport; and (2) Blameless Billy, who has never missed a shot in 30 years of curling. Either the skip held the broom wrong, or the sweepers swept wrong, or if his teammates absolutely cannot be blamed, then it’s the fault of our douchebag ice-maker who doesn’t know jack about how to prepare a sheet of ice.


Scream at, chew out, berate.

Don’t ever, ever play rec hockey. Every team has one (well, except mine, heh). Sometimes the whole other team is comprised of Jerky McJerks. Hey guys, there’s no scouts in the stands at the Wednesday 10:00 PM beer league game. I’m getting sick of this shit.

Words that should be carved in stone over the entrance to every rec league arena in every sport.

The Bill Lambier wannabe on the baskeball court at the Y. You wanna throw some elbows in the paint? Cool. Just don’t be surprised when what comes around goes around.

Oh so many! Here are a few (and some of their traits):

Pickup Basketball

  • The Ball Hog* - aka The Black Hole (and not in the Kevin McHale way)
    Thinks he can take on the entire defense alone
    Carries or travels every other time he gets the ball
    Frequently uses unnecessary spin moves, crossovers, double-clutches, etc.
    Automatically calls fouls on his own missed shots
    Sticks out tongue while playing, which he apparently inherited from Jordan himself

The Dreamer
Based on his bar talk, he has apparently never shot over 100 in his life
…except for the 3 times that he’s played with you
…and only because of the 15 unlucky breaks he got
…without admitting that he momentarily forgot that moving a ball to get a better lie is forbidden
…and that dropping a new ball on the grass because you can’t find yours is a stroke penalty
Also: Doesn’t understand why a 4-foot putt isn’t a gimme
Or that hitting a 300 yard drive on a hole that’s down-wind and downhill the whole way doesn’t mean that you average 300 yards on your drive.

My Wednesday night league had a curfew; games were supposed to be 8 ends, but if you were behind a certain schedule, you only played 7. One night, we were a little behind schedule. After the 7th end our skip went to shake hands with the other skip. (We were leading at the time.) At the start of the 7th we said “last end, right?” and their skip just kinda grunted in return. Now he wanted to play the 8th. Said he would have played the 7th differently if he’d know it was last. So we all (except the skips) go back to the other end of the ice. I’m getting ready to throw and then the other skip shakes hands with ours and stalks off the ice.

It’s a tradition to sit down for drinks after a game. That guy was sullen and barely said a word. Dude, you finished with a 9-and-1 record and still won the league. Grow up, already.

(That wasn’t you, was it Freddy?)

I watch almost every Orlando Magic game that is on tv and for the past couple seasons almost every game on the very first row right next to the scorers table there is one girl who spends the entire game texting on her phone. I hate her so much.

I used to be a jerky-jerk. I admit it. It was a long time ago, but such is life.

I used to play soccer with such intensity that when I was dispossessed, made a bad pass or did something otherwise wrong it was not unusual to hear a very loud curse all the way across the field. This kept up until the refs finally tired of it and started carding the hell out of me. Then it stopped.

I also bulldozed through people, using my size for the purposes of overt intimidation. When I was in the goal I thought nothing of just creaming a guy with the ball, sorry about your luck but I was going for the ball.

But yeah, I was that guy. You grow out of it eventually. I did, anyway.

Nah, I was off in the corner destroying my stabilizer because I messed up a sweep call.

I was coaching a rec league baseball game (9-10 year olds) my counterpart was one of those guys who was coaching in a full uniform (taking his role waaaaay too seriously). We were ahead by one run when the skies began to darken - it was clearly about to storm. We were in the field and needed one more out for the game to be official (we would win if the game was stopped). There was little chance that we’d get through our half of the inning before the skies opened up.

The mother of the boy who was up to bat stepped behind the backstop to take a picture of her son and when she did (with an impressive strobe flash) the Tony LaRussa wannabe yelled ***“Lightning! Game’s called! Everybody get to the cars!” ***At which point he pushed his son toward the parking lot at a dead run, got in his car and drove away. It was hilarious. Everybody was just looking at each other and a few were trying to explain to the umpire that the flash was from a camera. The kids (both teams) were dumbfounded. Sure enough, the rain soon started - we all just kind of looked at each other, shrugged our shoulders and headed for our cars. We did not replay or finish the game and I never got the chance to ask that guy what the hell he could have been thinking.

What happened to the second baseman? Was there any retribution?

Yeah, did you throw at his head next at-bat?:smiley:

Played street hockey at a fairly nice local rink when I was younger. It had smooth cement, boards, and benches. To give you an example of how serious we played this game, one of the regulars smoked while he was skating: one hand on the stick and the other on the cigarette. Drank beer in between shifts. Dude still skated better than most of us.

Then there was the person we all called “the asshole.” He was probably mid-forties at least. He had no problem grinding someone against the boards to get the puck, as he did to me on more than one occasion. While he wouldn’t purposefully check you in the face, he would skate right towards you at full speed until you passed the ball off or ran into him.

And honestly that wasn’t even the worst part. He had three kids: probably one each in high school, middle school, and elementary. He would chew the hell out of them if they even thought of setting foot on the rink. These were serious games after all, and no place for children. :rolleyes:

We had a guy like that played ball hockey against us in university. A whole team of them, actually. I was waiting around their net for a pass, he gives me a pretty forceful cross check, to the point of almost falling down. I give him a shove back, not too impressed at this point, and so what does he do? Pops me in the nose with his fist. THEN he asks me if I wanna go. :rolleyes:

Someone on this team also swung his stick down full force on our goalie’s collarbone, while trying to tomahawk the ball out of the air, despite the fact they were up 7 goals in the first half of the game.

I’m actually surprised I didn’t wheel this story out in the OP. :stuck_out_tongue:

As I recall, nothing. We were all too concerned with getting Jane the medical help she needed. As I said, our first baseman was a physician, so he made sure that her needs came first; and the game came second.

After the ambulance and paramedics came and left with Jane and Dr. H (the first baseman), we finished the game. I will say that those of us who could, were batting head-height at their second baseman. We didn’t hit him–but we tried!