"The trouble with your guys, Vince, is that you don't motivate them properly," Jim Conrad said, beginning what Coach Bradley recognized as a familiar tirade.
"You mean by paddling, I assume."
"Right. Which you don't approve of." Coach Conrad didn't bother to conceal the sarcasm in his voice.
"You know I don't," Bradley responded, growing angry as he always did at the thought of some of Conrad's paddling policies. Whenever Conrad divided his class into teams for competitive sports, the losing side would get licks. The boys would have to line up, then one by one, while the winners watched, bend over for two swats. Conrad didn't use his infamous Butt-Buster for this, just a regular paddle. And the licks weren't nearly as hard as his punishment swats - Bradley guessed they did little more than sting for a while. And being paddled in a group did reduce the embarrassment. But Bradley still didn't like the idea of paddling guys who were genuinely trying. Plus, although Conrad chose the team members at random, some of the smaller boys still ended up getting licks again and again.
Bradley admitted that, to Conrad's credit, after the paddlings he would encourage the boys with "Now I know that'll help you guys do better next time," and have the winning team give them a round of applause.
He still didn't approve. "My guys are doing just fine without it."
"Maybe But I bet they'd do a lot better using my method. Why don't you give it a try. Say next time we have the last period classes together. Of course, you have to use this technique over a period of time for it to be effective. but you have to start sometime."
"No, Jim, I'm not interested." Actually, Bradley was half-tempted to accept, if only to shut Conrad up.
His fellow coach went on. "We don't have to match your boys against mine. We can divide up any way you like."
Bradley considered. If he himself could give the licks - just soft taps - and then find someway to make it up to the boys later...
Conrad was still at it. "A little smacking does wonders to make guys try harder. And you know I barely touch them for their penalty swats."
"Okay."
A pause. "What?"
"I said 'okay'. We'll try it next week in the baskeball class. We'll split our classes into teams and the losers will get two licks."
"Fine." Conrad was pleased, if somewhat mystified, as Bradley walked away.
At the beginning of the agreed-upon period the following week, the two coaches chose teams. Bradley had a point to make, and hoped Conrad would appreciate it. He deliberately picked the smallest boys in the combiined classes. The guys on the other team laughed as Bradley selected his players, and Conrad joined them, but remained puzzled.
Bradley led his team to the side of the gym. "I'm gonna tell you guys from Coach Conrad's class the same thing I told my guys. If you lose, you're gonna get your two licks all right. That's just to keep him off my back." (Some of Conrad's students giggled.) "But I'm giving the licks. I don't like the idea. So don't worry. Now, I've got to make them hard enough to satisfy Conrad, but I promise you'll hardly feel them. And I'll take you guys for banana splits after school. Does that sound fair?"
The boys voiced their approval. They didn't mind too much the thought of taking light swats from Coach Bradley, and the thought of ice cream more than made up for it.
"Thanks, fellas. I don't believe that guys should be paddled just for losing. Not if they try. And you're going to try, aren't you?"
"Yeh!" the team chorused.
Bradley had been sure that, with such mis-matched teams, his would lose, and they did. But not nearly by as much as he had feared. His boys gave it all they had. Even Conrad was impressed, his joking giving way to an uncharacteristic silence.
"Okay, guys, let's go," Bradley called sympathetically as he took his team to the center of the gym where Conrad and his boys were waiting to see them get paddled. They went manfully, and looked with resignation as Bradley picked up his board, named The Stinger.
"Just a minute," Conrad interrupted. "I want to give the licks."
"No way, Jim, I promised my guys..."
"I said I want to give these boys their licks." He whispered to Bradley, "It's okay, you've made your point.", and quietly took the paddle from his fellow coach's hand.
The awaiting boys looked up in horror at the idea of getting even the mildest of Coach Conrad's licks. Bradley swore silently and promised himself to find a way to compensate his boys for this. He tried to give them an encouraging smile.
As Conrad made his way to the line formed by the losing team, Walburn, one of his own players and a first-class smart ass piped up, "Hey, Coach, we want some red-hot butts! We didn't win for nothing!" He and his four best buddies burst into jeering laughter.
Conrad didn't bother to look back. He had had his eye on them all through the game. "Don't worry. You'll get 'em." He had reached Bradley's boys. "Who's first?"
Adams, the boy nearest Conrad, trembled.
"You!" Conrad pointed the paddle at him. "Over here and bend over!"
Bradley gave the kid a helpful nod. Adams walked reluctantly forward to where Conrad waited, and bent over. Conrad then stood with his legs apart, gripping the paddle with both hands, his usual stance for delivering one of his blister-making swats. Adams closed his eyes in anticipation. Bradlley winced on his behalf.
Conrad raised the paddle high. "And make sure you count 'em, Adams!" he ordered. Conrad always demanded a count, but never made the boys getting penalty swats say "Thank you". He expected respect, not gratitude.
Suddenly he brought the paddle down. Then just as suddenly, he stopped it right before it reached its target, and gave Adams' rear end only a gentle tap.
Adams barely felt the contact, and kept his eyes shut tightly as he waited.
Conrad yelled, "I said count 'em, Adams! That was one!"
The surprised Adams managed to say, "One, Coach Conrad, sir!"
"That's better," Conrad acknowledged. "But I think I made that first one too hard. Try this one on for size." He then presented Adams with a yet softer smack, if it could be called even that. This time, Adams promptly responded with a grateful, "Two, Coach Conrad, sir!"
Bradley looked on with approval. Conrad was paddling with less force than he himself had planned to.
"Okay, pal, you're though," he told Adams and sent him back to the line.
Walburn complained, "Hey, what's this all about, Coach?"
Conrad seemingly ignored him as he turned to address the winning team. "In case some of you are wondering what all this is about, I'm giving these boys what they deserve. I don't think guys should be paddled if they try, and boy, did they try. I'm only giving them their licks because it's part of the bargain - like I always do." He turned back to Bradley's team. "Who's next?"
The next boy stepped forward if not eagerly, at least not fearfully. With him and the remaining team members, Conrad dropped the customary paddling procedures. Instead he simply took hold of the kid, spun him gently around, and patted his rear end with the Stinger. Each boy was only too happy to count out the licks.
The paddling over, Conrad turned to Bradley and asked, "Satisfied?". Bradley gave him an 'okay' sign.
"Good. Now." Conrad faced the winning team. "I said I don't paddle guys who try. That means I do paddle guys who don't! Walburn! Hunt! McDonald! Stuart! Benton! Front and center!"
The five jocks just stood there with their mouths open, to the amusement of everyone else in the gym.
"Now!" Conrad shouted, and the five summoned boys jumped forward. He chewed them out as only he could. "You guys were goofing off the whole game, thinking this would be an easy win. Well, you won. So I'm going to reward you, boys!"
Walburn eyed the Stinger in Conrad's hand. "Coach. You aren't gonna use that on us." It was half a statement and half a plea.
Conrad thought a moment. "You're right, Walburn." He put down Bradley's paddle. Walburn and his buddies breathed sighs of relief. Then Conrad picked up from beneath his jacket that lay on the floor his dreaded Butt-Buster. "I always keep it close at hand - for emergencies," he explained to Bradley. He turned back around. "Walburn! You're first! Over and grab 'em! These aren't going to be penalty swats - they're going to be punishment licks! And I promise you're going to let us know the difference!"
Walburn obeyed automatically, as he had so many times before. Conrad once again assumed his paddling stance, but this time he meant business.
Crack!
"Ohhh - shiiit!"
"Walburn! Not only did you not count and thank me, you said '_s_h_i_t_'! That means two more licks!"
"Coach, please... I mean, One! Thank you, Coach Conrad, sir!"
"All right, I'll let that one go. That lick must have hurt. But if it happens again..."
Crack!
"Shiiiit! I mean, Two! Thank you, Coach Conrad, sir!"
All the watching boys laughed.
"Too bad, Walburn. Back down!" Walburn had shot up to rub the seat of his gym shorts. Tears were forming in his eyes. "Get ready for two more big ones!"
Walburn grabbed his ankles again, and Conrad asked, "You wanted some red-hot butts, Walburn. Is yours hot enough for you?"
"Oh, yessir, yessir!"
"I'm glad to hear it. And you're so keen on red butts, too. Maybe I should make you pull your shorts down so we can see..."
"Oh, please, Coach, not on the bare!"
"Sissy. Okay. I'll give you break since I'm such a good sport. Which is more than you were!" He added, "It won't make much difference anyway." He raised the paddle and asked Bradley, "Got any complaints abouut my paddling policies now?"
Bradley smiled, folded his arms across his chest, and leaned comfortably against the wall. "Not me."
So Coach Conrad went back to work. Sure enough, the protection offered by Walburn's shorts was negligible against the two absolute sizzlers Conrad gave him with the Butt-Buster.
He paddled the other four jocks similarly, although somewhat less severely.
At last he put down the paddle and spoke to the winning team. "Okay, fellas, let's give the guys on Bradley's side a great big hand. They deserve it."
The boys applauded enthusiastically. All except the five punished jocks, who continued to dance around and grab their rear ends.
Conrad yelled at them, "Hey you jerks! Get your hands off your butts and clap!"
The five managed a bout of feeble applause.
"You call that clapping? Try again! And if I don't hear it, you're going to hear the paddle again - nice and loud!"
Bradley chuckled at the vigorous applause that followed.
"And now," Conrad went on, "I'm buying banana splits for everybody!"
All but five of the boys cheered him. Conrad told the still-dancing jocks, "I'm even gonna treat you guys to ice cream. Of course, it looks like you'll have to stand up to eat it!"
The paddled boys didn't want to go anywhere in their present condition, and as everyone else began to file out, they went on hopping around.
Bradley was perfectly satisfied with the afternoon's outcome. As he stepped outside, he met a large crowd of students, attracted by all the commotion in the gym, waiting by the exit. For their benefit, he turned and called back to Walburton and company, "Hey you guys! Get your little red butts in gear and come enjoy the ice cream or else!"
So the five jocks had to walk past the amused gazes of their fellow students. Bradley's taunt, and the boys' moist eyes and red faces prompted much speculation, which the humbled guys didn't want to confirm, so they tried to keep from rubbing their rear ends. Needless to say, they failed miserably.