by John Michael
We shook our heads vigorously − we definitely did NOT want to play hardball with Mr Perriman. Those battered students were still recovering from their dodge-ball injuries.
Our Gym teacher would always get students’ names wrong and always spoke in sporting clichés and brought every conversation back to sport. I once lost my gym bag and was frantically searching for it after school. I bumped into Mr Perriman near the lockers and asked, “Sir, have you seen my gym bag?” Without skipping a beat, he responded, “The gloves are off when there’s a hurler on the ditch,” and walked away. Still to this day, I have no idea what he meant (and I never did find my bag).
He slowly paced around Barney and me, like a big mountain cat about to pounce on a couple of gerbils.
“You gotta put your game face on! Don't pull any punches! Gotta step up to the plate and knock it out of the park! You hear what I’m saying Heathcliff and Bernardo?”
We both nodded... we didn’t know who Heathcliff and Bernardo were and we didn’t care, we just wanted to join the rest of the students and to stop being Mr Perriman’s centre of attention. Everybody knew that if you were targeted by Corporal Punishment your life would be a living nightmare.
Mr Perriman could be relentless and merciless and if he had you in his sights, it was like having a bloodhound on your scent. Take Rufus Magee for example. Not to say that you had to be a bloodhound to be on Rufus’s scent − he smelled of peanuts. He always kept a handful in his pockets and he would nibble them throughout the day like a hungry chipmunk. Actually, you didn’t even have to rely on any scent − Rufus would leave a trail like Hansel and Gretel, but instead of breadcrumbs, you could just follow the discarded peanut shells. He was a tubby kid who was a little short on height and had a shock of red hair and freckles. Everywhere. He had freckles on his forehead, his nose, his ears, his neck, his arms, his legs and when Lazy Lenny once gave him a wedgie in the locker room, we discovered that, yep, he had freckles on his butt too. Hence his nickname, Freckles.
He always had his head in the clouds and was forgetful at the best of times. One lesson, he was asked to get the bag of basketballs from the storage room, which was in a locked shed on the oval. Somehow, on the way to the shed, Freckles managed to lose the key and, as a result, Mr Perriman made him suffer for the entire week − until a replacement key was made. Every lesson he was on Freckles like a Pitbull on a pork chop. He made him clean the locker room, scrub the toilets, run up and down the stairs, and do extra squats. Barney and I were wondering what type of punishment Mr Perriman had in mind for us.
It didn’t take long for us to find out, Corporal Punishment crouched down besides us and looked at us like we were two bugs that needed to be squished.
“I’ll tell you what I’m gonna do. I’ll give you five laps around the oval! That’s right Horace and Barnaby... five laps! That’s a sweet deal -one lap for every five minutes that you were late? What do you think?”
A sweet deal? That was a rotten deal! What a bummer! I could have received a better deal from Lazy Lenny with his three Wednesday wedgies for the price of one mid-week supersaver special. And what was with the five laps? One lap for every five minutes we were late? We were fifteen minutes late! I guess Mr Perriman really sucked at maths. Even Freckles never got five laps and he took away all of Corporal Punishment’s instruments of torture (read that as sports equipment) for an entire week. Five laps would be the death of me and, not to be mean to Barney but he would probably cark it sometime through the first lap. I had seen him run and he pretty much moved like a gammy goose with pneumonia. Against my better instinct, I decided to use diplomacy, hoping that maybe we could get a reduced sentence.
“Sir, I just wanted to –”
“There’s no ‘I’ in team, mister... you gotta give 110% in this operation! Play to win and, as they say in the big league, pull your own weight!”
We nodded in agreement but this time, once again, before I knew what was going on, some whirring started to happen in my head and my brain was suddenly instructing my mouth to talk.
“Actually sir –”
Barney let out a moan and whispered to me. “No... don’t do it!”
But it was too late, I couldn’t stop myself.
“Actually sir, the idiom, pull your own weight, is a nautical term. There are two possible origins. Firstly, in the olden days, sailors would have to cast the sails with heavy ropes. If a man was slothful or incompetent, he was not doing his fair share. The other possibility is that pull your own weight is a rowing term. It’s to do with the idea that you need to offset your own weight in a row boat with the amount of strokes required, otherwise the boat would slow down. Oh... and one last thing, it is mathematically impossible to give more than 100%, sir.”
Mr Perriman’s face looked like it had been slapped with a wet mullet.
“Are you controverting me? Is this a controversion?”
I was pretty sure that ‘controversion’ wasn’t a word but this time I bit my lip and said nothing. I felt the teacher glaring at me with all his might as I stared at my shoes. If he had x-ray vision, he would have burned a hole in the back of my head. I just kept on staring at my shoes really hard (hmm... I never did notice that mustard stain on my left shoe − note to self, clean shoe if you ever get out of this alive). I was trying to keep perfectly still and not to flinch, like a cornered mouse hoping that the stalking predator would lose interest and move on.
Finally, Mr Perriman broke the awkward silence.
“Ha! We’ve got a funny one here... a real Bozo the Clown,” he scoffed.
Then the teacher let out a forced laugh and looked around at the circle of students for some confirmation of his authority, not that he needed it.
“Okay... let’s raise the stakes here. I’ll tell you what I’m gonna do Horton.” He put his dinner-plate sized hand on my shoulder. “If you can get three basketball shots in a row – you’re off the hook.”
“But sir, you know that I’m the worst at –”
“Yes... you’re right Humbert... I agree with you. We both know that your name should be Cinderella because you always run away from the ball! But I’m willing to give you a chance... cut you some slack!”
“But... but... but sir –”
“Or you’re gonna do TEN laps of the oval... with your friend Baldrick here! We can triple the fun!”
At this point in time I felt more than a little deflated. Ten laps? Triple the fun? With Baldrick? Bummer! And all things aside, Maths certainly wasn’t Mr Perriman’s strong suit.
Barney whispered into my ear. “Please take the shots Howard... I had a big breakfast this morning, there’s no way I’ll make ten laps!”
“What are you talking about Barney?”
“Well I had some bacon and eggs, grilled pork sausage with baked cherry tomatoes, buttered raisin toast, blueberry pancakes with maple syrup, a bowl of froot-loops, hash browns with fried onions, a chocolate and banana smoothie, some baked beans on –”
“No, no... I don’t care about your breakfast! What makes you think that I can shoot those baskets?”
“Well... you’ve been pulling off a lot of weird stuff lately... I just thought, why not take a chance?”
Barney was right, things had been quite weird lately. Plus, there was no way that I would finish ten laps either (or even five laps) and I didn’t even have a big breakfast. We were going to die on that oval either way − might as well go out in a blaze of glory. What did I have to lose? (Apart from my self-respect and pride but, hey, I had been down that road before.)
I turned to Mr Perriman and cranked my neck so that I could look him in the eye but I wasn’t even close, so I just spoke to his enormous chin. “Okay sir... I’ll do it!”
He just stood there emotionless and nodded towards the court. All the students cheered as I strolled up to the free-throw line. Barney ran up to me − to offer a word of encouragement no doubt. “By the way Howie, just remember that Breezy Walcott, basketballer of the year three years r
unning, scored eleven free throws in one game last season and he didn’t even –”
“Get out of here Barney... how is that supposed to help me? Comparing me to a professional basketball player?”
“Okay Howard... I was just trying to give you a confidence boost.”
“Well, you’re not helping! You’re just adding to the pressure!”
“Hmm... someone’s a bit grumpy... I’ll just go and stand over there and let you do your thing.”
As Barney toddled back to the sideline, I was thinking about how I ever managed to get in this mess in the first place. I bounced the ball a few times to get a feel for it. It felt like a giant oversized orange struggling to break free from my tiny hand... I looked at the hoop and it seemed so far away.
“Ah, just a minute there Horatio,” interrupted Mr Perriman.
“Yes sir?” I answered with a quiver in my voice.
“Move it back to the three-point line.”
“The three-point line?” I gulped.
“Are you deaf? That’s what I said... the three-point line!” grunted Mr Perriman.
I took four steps backwards... the hoop just got a lot further away. This was going to be an impossible task − even when standing right underneath the hoop, I still never got the ball in.
I bounced the basketball again, the sound echoed around the hall. All the students were as still as statues; I took a deep breath and closed my eyes shut. I was feeling anxious... very anxious... my heart was beating through my chest and I was starting to pant like a meerkat with heatstroke.
“Okay... okay! Get a grip Howard!” I said to myself. I thought back to all the times I had been down in the dumps and remembered my Dad’s advice. “Think happy thoughts Son and melt those blues away!”
Well, as things stood, I had nothing to lose so I tried to visualise happy thoughts. I thought of eating a vanilla and chocolate sundae. Mmmm! I started to feel a little better already. The creamy vanilla ice-cream smothered in rich chocolate was so enticing. Now I was feeling a lot better − my heartbeat and breathing started to slow down and my mind became tranquil. I could actually feel the texture in my mouth, it was so rich and creamy. I smacked my lips loudly; my angst had almost disappeared altogether. The ice cream felt so cold in my mouth... so delicious... but then, for some reason, I started to think about cavities... AND then, I started to think about my dentist and how he loves to use that needle, and that drill, and all those other instruments that look like medieval torture devices. My heartbeat and breathing started to spike again. Bummer! This entire thinking ‘happy thoughts’ process was just making me more edgy and stressed!
I quickly opened my eyes to get away from my dentist nightmare, and that’s when it happened! My brain started to whir like crazy and I was no longer seeing the hall as it was moments ago, instead it had become a grid of lines, curves and points. I was seeing shapes and angles everywhere − from the geometry of the hoop, to the fractals in the pattern of the basketball. I had an intuitive sense of length, weight, height, gravity and mass.
“So, this is what maths looks like,” I thought to myself.
“Come on Howell! Get it into gear... we don’t have all day!” shouted Mr Perriman.
My brain started whirring again and in an instant I could see the optimal curve to the basket and could see the mathematical formula in my mind’s eye, all the variables were falling into place − the speed, distance and trajectory.
“Okay sir!” I answered.
I bounced the ball once, twice and did a quick calculation of the weight and diameter of the ball (567 grams and 24.26 centimetres), the distance (6.75 metres), the height of the hoop (3 metres). Everything seemed to add up perfectly. I threw the ball and as soon as it left my fingertips, I had a good feeling and it was one of those ‘just know’ moments, as I just knew that the ball would go in. We’ve all had those moments at one time or another. You know, when you ‘just know’ that your older sister will beat you up for eating that last muffin. When you ‘just know’ when a teacher says “interesting work,” she really means “this is awful!” When you ‘just know’ that people who say “your secret is safe with me” will, in reality, tell everybody they meet.
Now back to my amazing shot. The basketball floated through the air and as it met its target a delightful sound resonated in the still air.
“Nothing but net!” screamed one of the students on the sideline. The rest of the crowd reacted with wild cheers while Barney punched the air with his fist.
I couldn’t believe that the ball that I had just thrown, went through the hoop. I mean, I had seen other people do it but this experience had never happened to me. And who would have thought that you needed maths for anything outside of Maths classs?
Mr Perriman’s face twitched slightly and then his expression reverted back to a lemonsucking scowl. “You got lucky there Hubert! One out of three but remember, it’s not how you start the game but how you finish. Two more shots to go... let’s play ball!”
Yes... two more shots to go and I must admit, I was feeling rather confident. Again, I rechecked the distance, the angle, the height and did a quick calculation in my head − all the computations pointed to success.
“You can do it Howie!” screamed Barney from the sideline.
I bounced the ball a few times and then threw it... once again, swooooooooosh! I never really cared much for sports (I guess that was because I was one of the worst players on the court) but I have to say, now that I had a slight taste of victory, I was hooked!
Again the students cheered with gusto and vigour. Barney was so excited he attempted a star jump but lost his balance and ripped his shorts. His face turned red as a tomato and he quickly sat down so that no one would notice his Bert and Ernie underwear.
Mr Perriman’s scowl went into overdrive — he now looked like he had gone through an entire bag of lemons. “Those two shots ain’t worth diddly-squat unless you get this third one in... remember that! It ain’t over until the full-time siren Hogwart!”
I ignored Mr Perriman’s trash talk... he was just trying to rain on my parade. I was feeling super confident and the entire class was chanting my name.
It was music to my ears. That’s right Corporal Punishment! Are you hearing that sweet sound? It’s Howard! Not Hogwart! Not Hubert! Not Howell! I’ll show that Perriman! Who does he think he is with his stupid big fat chin? Nothing could stop me now! I was invincible.
I now felt like the world was my oyster... well... hmm... come to think of it... I actually hated oysters... they looked like super-sized boogers! I mean I didn’t mind clams... but you couldn’t really say I felt like the world was my clam. Either way, oysters or clams... it didn’t matter! All I wanted to do was end with a big finish. Give the crowd something they’ll remember! I thought I’d hit the top left-hand corner of the board, giving it some top spin so it would pivot downwards and go through the hoop in a diagonal direction... leaving that delightful sound for all of my adhering fans.
I bounced the ball once, the crowd quietened down immediately. It was so silent that you could have heard an ant fart from fifty paces. I bounced the ball again and then I aimed, and quickly redid my calculations − height, velocity, trajectory − and threw the ball. This time, however, I didn’t have that same feeling when the ball left my fingers. Something wasn’t right and I immediately realised what it was.
Unfortunately, in my haste and in my pursuit of unabashed glory, I forgot to factor in additional variables, such as the slight draft in the hall, the temperature variation and the residual grit on the basketball. As the ball hit the top left-hand corner of the board, it skidded ever so slightly, reducing the topspin and it pivoted downwards at a steeper angle. As a result, instead of the delightful sound, the ball connected with the rim of the hoop and circled around once, twice... would it drop in or rebound outwards? It circled the rim thrice... the situation was looking awful... awful indeed.
And what about Barney? He would never forgive me if he had t
o run laps around the oval. Especially now that he had ripped his pants. He would have to run the laps with his Bert and Ernie underwear out in full view for the entire world to see. If the running didn’t kill him, there was a good chance he would die of embarrassment.
The ball went around the rim one more time.
The ‘just know’ feeling came back again, but it was more along the lines of when you just know ‘if something can go wrong, it will go wrong.’ I started to wallow in my misfortune, oh why did I have to get so überconfident, so cocky? Such arrogance had been the downfall of so many great heroes in the past − the Hulk, Ironman, Spiderman, and now it was my turn.
The basketball went around the rim of the hoop for the fifth time. My brain did a quick calculation of the centrifugal force, trajectory and speed of the ball. Chances of the ball going through the hoop − 31.2 percent. Bummer!
I just couldn’t watch anymore. I closed my eyes and tried to block out everything but instead, I had an unsettling vision and foresaw our ill-fated destiny.
There we were, Barney and I, looking quite miserable out on the oval, one hour had passed and we had just finished our second lap. It certainly was an ominous scenario − at this stage, we were running at walking pace (if you could call it running) and we were stumbling, coughing and wheezing. Our clothes were soiled and ripped and we looked gaunt and scrawny. A flock of ravens were circling above, waiting for us to collapse in exhaustion so that they could pick the flesh off our bones.
Mr Perriman was following us with a cat-o-nine-tails* in his hand, which he was cracking at our heels while screaming at us. “Ye are a pack of blaggards. Get movin’ ye bilge-rats... ye still needs to scour the mizzen masts and hoist the battens if ye is to avoid walkin’ the plank.” I’m not sure why he was talking like a pirate and I had no idea as to what he was saying, but he was even scarier with a whip in his hand — he had gone from Corporal Punishment to Captain Blackbeard. Again, he cracked the whip and hollered at us. “Yer doom be nigh, ye lily-livered scurvy seadogs!”
