"I'll be happy to do it."
"Thanks, Coach. I knew I could count on you."
"Well, since it's for the school, how could I refuse? And I guess in a way, it's a kind of honor."
"Sure it is. The guys all picked Coach Bradley because they know he's a good sport. And a nice guy all around..."
"Okay, Will, stop with the flattery. I've already said yes."
"Aw, that wasn't flattery. You know we think you're a great guy." Will's enthusiasm dimmed as he continued. "Of course, we picked Coach Conrad too. Mostly because we didn't want to hurt his feelings. If he has feelings."
Bradley cleared his throat, conveying to Will that a student shouldn't speak so critically of a teacher.
"Well, " Will was only half apolgetic. "Anyway. He and I get along, but we aren't exactly the best of friends. So I was wondering if you could ask him?" Will looked at Coach Bradley pleadingly.
The coach laughed. "Okay, we'll go down to his office now."
Bradley and Conrad weren't the best of friends either. They did manage to maintain a working relationship, despite serious differences over the discipline of their students. Bradley thought Conrad an overgrown bully, and Conrad didn't hesitate to call his colleague a sissy to his face.
As Bradley and Will walked down the gym hall to Coach Conrad's office, the shouted reprimands, coming from behind the door, of Conrad delivering a stinging lecture grew louder and louder
"Sounds like he's busy," Bradley quipped, and paused outside.
"Bend over and grab your ankles!" Conrad commanded.
"Please, Coach," came a softly begging voice.
"You just earned yourself an extra lick, mister. Now get in position or you'll get another one!"
Coach Bradley and Will thought they heard sobs, then a particularly loud Crack! broke the quiet. Will jumped, and even Bradley grimaced at its ferocity. A pitiful cry of "Owww!" immediately followed, and Conrad yelled, "Shut up and take it like a man, Jackson!"
Bradley shook his head in disapproval, even disgust. "He's got Jackson in there again."
Will was about to respond, but another wickedly loud Crack! resounded. Jackson yelped again, unable to control himself.
Will sympathized, saying "He's really laying it on."
"He sure is, _d_a_m_n_ it! And after I told him..."
Crack!
Jackson broke into tears at this last lick.
"Crybaby!" Conrad taunted. "Hey! Stick that butt back in the air where I can get to it!"
Coach Bradley barely restrained himself from bursting in on his fellow coach. Here he was, having to close his eyes to yet another example of Conrad's excessive use of corporal punishment.
Crack!
Jackson begged through his tears, "Please, Coach, no more!"
Bradley grabbed the doorknob, and started to walk in. "That was four. Surely he's finished."
But Conrad bellowed, "You've got one more coming, Jackson, and I'm gonna make this one hurt!"
Bradley tightened his chin and fists with anger on hearing the last lick, which must have raised a blister all by iitself.
"Maybe that will shut up that smart mouth of yours! Now get out!"
The door flew open and a slightly-built young man raced out, almost colliding with Bradley. His face was red and tears streamed from his eyes, and he was furiously rubbing the seat of his gym shorts.
Bradley gently grabbed him. Looking into the boy's agonized face, all he could say was, "I'm sorry about this, Jackson. I'll talk to you later." He let the boy run off, then strode into Conrad's office with Will hesitantly following.
Conrad hadn't even had time to replace his paddle on the wall when Bradley started in. "Why the hell are you always picking on Jackson? He's the smallest kid on the team and you give him the hardest paddlings. I heard those licks, Jim."
Conrad was impervious to this criticism. ""Maybe they'll teach him not to be so small."
Bradley knew that Jackson could be a complainer. He was smart - not the usual jock type, and Conrad didn't like him because of that. He liked to paddle Jackson for even the slightest offenses.
"And you may have heard those licks, but what you didn't hear was how he smarted off to me during practice."
"I don't care. Five licks like that... And you let that little punk Nichols get away with murder. I don't know why you don't tear his butt up!"
Nichols was what Bradley imagined Conrad had been in high school - a bully, not yet overgrown.
"Well if that's how you feel, you do it." Conrad knew very well that Coach Bradley never tore anybody's butt up. Bradley had given Nichols a good paddling or two, because he knew if he sent Nichols to the other coach for punishment, Conrad would only give him a few love taps, or, more probably, laugh off the whole incident.
Bradley said, "I've warned you, Jim, you're gonna have some parents or the whole school board down on you if you aren't careful."
For that reason, Bradley ended up doing most of the paddling at the gym. Either some student about to suffer Conrad's wrath gave him an appealing look, or else Bradley kindly volunteered beforehand to do the job himself. His gentle ways got the message through more efficiently, anyway. Conrad usually let him have his way, not without informing his "sissy" colleague that he was making more sissies just like him. Maybe Conrad was afraid Bradley would indeed file a formal complaint. But even that didn't stop him from tormenting Jackson, perhaps it was even the reason.
"Just drop it. Now do you have something important to say to me?"
Bradley realized that to pursue that issue would be a waste of breath, and forced himself to change the subject. "Yeah. You know the school carnival's this weekend?"
Conrad perched on his desk chair and put his hands behind his head. "So?"
"So, some of the guys in the athletic department - Will here is the chairman - are setting up a spanking booth. You know, where students get to give licks to teachers, for a buck apiece."
Conrad only stared with unconcern.
Bradley resumed. "Well, it seems that you and I have been overwhelmingly chosen to be on the receiving end. Apparently we're the favorite teachers in that regard. I don't know if that's good or bad."
"Hell. Why would I put myself through something as ridiculous as that?"
Will finally built up enough courage to speak. "Well, Coach, it's for the benefit of the school. And Coach Bradley has alreadly agreed."
"Well good for him," Conrad sneered.
Bradley leaned against the wall and folded his arms. "What's the matter, Jim?" he asked insinuatingly, "Don't think you can take it?"
After a few years of dealing with Conrad, Bradley knew how to use his own machismo against him.
"Hey! My butt can take anything yours can!"
Bradley had produced the reaction he wanted. "Does that mean you'll do it?"
Conrad agreed sullenly. "Oh, hell, yes. What are the guys gonna be using - paddles?"
"Yep. I'm bringing mine."
"The Stinger," Will put in. That four by eighteen, half-inch thick piece of plywood was famous, despite the leniency with which Coach Bradley employed it.
"That's right, Will. And I think it's only appropriate that Coach Conard supplies the paddle that's going to be used on him."
Giving his first sign of uneasiness, Conrad cast a quick look at the formidable tool he had just replaced on the wall. "The Butt Buster?"
Coach Conrad's paddle wasn't just famous, it was notorious. Five inches wide. Two feet long. Almost a full inch thick. Solid maple. The holes strategically drilled into its blade allowed the paddle to fly through the air at an alarming rate.
Bradley leaned down almost in Conrad's face, and with a wicked smile, said, "Yeah. The Butt Buster." He allowed these words to sink in.
Conrad was silent until Bradley said, "Of course, if you want to back out..."
"I said I'd do it, didn't I?" He glared angrily at Bradley.
Will said, "Great! Thanks, Coach."
Bradley and Will prepared to leave, then Bradley called back, "And Jim. Wear your gym shorts. Don't cheat- nothing underneath but your jock. You want to look the part for the guys." They walked out of Conrad's office.
"Gee, thanks, Coach."
"Don't mention it, Will. Now let me go find Jackson an give him a pep talk. I'll see you Saturday night.