I’ve never been described as athletically gifted. The word “klutz” is more likely to come up. I was as surprised as anyone when I joined a grade 8 intramural basketball team.

My friend Wayne talked me into it. Our team had some halfway decent players and a couple of completely inept players who couldn’t dribble without bouncing the ball off their feet. I was one of the latter.

The main feature of our team that kept us from being dead last was a subtlety of the rules. The rules said that if anyone had more than 4 fouls in a game, then that player would be ejected from the game. While other teams took this as a reason to straighten up and fly right, we took it to mean “We get 4 fouls each!”

Our strategy worked to keep us out of the dead last position until the very last game. Our home room teacher, Mr. Gaspipe, had heard that we weren’t dead last and took an interest in coaching us. Gaspipe was also one of the gym teachers. We’d guessed that he thought he’d show us how to win.

Because of Gaspipe, we sucked worse than usual. Gaspipe wouldn’t let us use our strategy of fouling our way to reduced failure. He also insisted that all players get equal time on the court. This meant that I and the other klutz spent more time bouncing the ball off our feet and saying “Wait, what?”.

After the game was over and our position was sealed in dead last after all, Joe, our star player, threw the ball at the wall in disgust. Joe turned away as he threw the ball and didn’t realize that the ball bounced off the wall and hit Gaspipe squarely in his back.

For no adequately explained reason, Gaspipe had his gym teacher’s whistle in his mouth. When the ball hit Gaspipe’s back, the whistle gave a “PEEP” as it shot from Gaspipe’s mouth.

Joe got detention even though it was an accident. Joe thought that it was worth it. His only regret was that he didn’t see the whistle go flying.