Originally titled "Halftime" and posted on MMSA Stories on September 15, 1999. This came really close to being a regular series.

This dude in America had this experience:

In my house growing up, there was a very unique religion practiced every Sunday from September through January. It was the religion of football. I'm talking American Football here. None o f that pansy, foot-fairy SOCCER garbage, but real, kick ass American Football.

My entire family lived for the coming season, because every year brought new hope that our beloved Eagles would finally make us proud. And we weren't the only ones – every Sunday, Philadelphia would shut down for four hours as all eyes in town were glued to television to see the home town heroes win one for all of us working class stiffs.

Dad was a classic example of the hard working, no-nonsense working class person that Philadelphia was comprised of. He usually had to put in 10 or 11 hour work days to feed me, Mom, and my three brothers (two older – one younger), so Sunday was the one day that he (our provider and savior) got to rest. The last thing he wanted to do was discipline me or any of my brothers.

By the time I was nine, he had already devised a system that would optimize his football viewing and his fatherly-paddling duties. My older brothers, Lyle and Burt, had tested Dad every known way two boys could, and so by their teens (when I was nine), Dad had learned all of the tricks, so he knew how to keep me in check. Thanks to Lyle and Burt, I got away with very little.

All of us boys were spanked by Dad. Mom only spanked us when we were really young, and even then it was just quick, sharp swats. When we were about eight, Father took us in hand. He was never abusive, or excessive, and never did he use anything harder than his, big, thick hand (which – trust me – was hard enough!) At the same time, we were all spanked on the bare ass, usually forced to strip totally naked, regardless of who was present.

That was the part we always hated. Dad didn't care who saw us in our birthday suits, and it was the knowledge that any punishment we received would NOT be in private is what kept us (pretty much) in line. Naturally, being boys (and being so many boys!), we slipped up. I guess it averaged to about one of us a week. Sometimes we would get by for two or three weeks with no one having a sore hiney. Sometimes it would be all of us, all in a row. It just depended how bored we got.

If we did something that required a spanking, Mother would wait until Dad came up (usually about seven), and tell him then. He would waste no time with speeches, and we were equally expected not to waste his time with pleading or promises. We were to strip off everything, and drape ourselves over his legs.

He would then get busy with spanking us. Like I said, it didn't matter if anyone else was in the house. If one of us was getting our seat tanned, it was usually an excuse for the other three to come in and watch and giggle and exchange witty, childish banter. Sometimes Mom would say, "Oh, you boys. You shouldn't tease your brother like that. Don't you remember how you feel when you are getting a spanking?"

What Mom never understood (but, if his occasional smile was any indication, Father obviously did!), is that we knew quite well how horrible that was to be spanked in front of the entire family (and sometimes neighbors and friends), and the knowledge of THAT feeling is also what helped keep us in line. We were actually doing each other a favor when we laughed and pointed at each other crying and wiggling during the spanking, because it would further remind us that this was something that none of us ever wanted to have repeated again!

And was there ever crying!

Dad was a, big, strong, tough man, with huge hands that still covered Lyle's bare butt when Lyle was well into his teens. He also believed in taking him time – most spankings averaged at least five minutes, but sometimes they managed to make it a full fifteen minutes.

Can you imagine that? A steady stream of hard, painful, and deliberate spanks on your naked nine year old ass for a full fifteen minutes....the whole time, your brothers (and maybe some of their friends) are laughing and teasing your situation? And nothing at all you can do abut it, because (like I said) Daddy was a very strong man.

The only time he never spanked us on the spot was during an Eagles game. Even if they were losing 45 to 3, he would still be watching the game.

Evidently, Lyle and Burt (when they were younger), got away with murder on game day. Sometimes Father would be so happy (if the game went well), he wouldn't spank them at all. And sometimes if they lost, he would go grumble and pout and forget about it all together. Lyle and Burt affectionately referred to this time as the golden years!

Ha!

Not being a stupid man, Dad figured out what he would need to do, and so he instigated the half-time spanking. If any of us boys were in need of getting our rumps good and whacked, and it would interfere with Dad's game watching, we would be required to report to him at half time and he could get it over with then and there. He wasn't too fond of it, because it broke into his bathroom time and reading the Sunday newspaper time, but as he said, "A father's got to do, what a father's got to do."

Needless to say, we weren't too fond of them either!

After the spanking, like all other spankings, we would have to stand in the corner with our hands flush to our naked sides. On most spankings he would let us go get dressed after five minutes. After half-time spankings, however, we almost were never allowed to get our clothes on until the end of the THIRD QUARTER. That was the worst – that could almost last an entire half hour, or more!!!

Standing there naked, hands to the side, a raw, red and angry ass facing the rest of the room. Tears were streaming down the face (Dad always encouraged us to cry – " never hold it in, boy. Real men can cry!"). Sometimes our friends were invited in to see the after effect (always under the pretense of watching the game with the family!)

I'll never forget one time when my younger brother Todd was 10 (and I was 12). He got it good during the half time of one Eagles/Redskins game, for cussing within the ear shot of Mom. After the spanking, right at the start of the second half of the game, Todd was made to do his corner time, when Burt came in to ask father if his friend "Skip" can come in to watch to rest of the game. "Of course he can," Dad said, focusing his attention on the impending kick off.

"Well, I just wanted to make sure it was ok, since Todd is doing his corner time and all," Burt said, in fake sincerity – (he was loving every minute!)

"Of course it's fine, boy," Dad said again.

"Great!" Burt said, turning to leave, before coming back around asking (coyly), "How about John, and Mike, and Ray, and Billy, and Stu? They were all playing football outside with Skip?" "Sure, invite them all in," Dad said, as the kick off was starting. "We'll make a party of it."

"Yes!" Burt said, punching his fist in the air, and shooting a killer look over to poor, naked little Todd.

"But Daddy!" Todd blubbered.

"Todd!" Dad snapped. "You know better than to say a word while in the corner!" "Daddy! It's not fair....!"

"TODD!" father raised his voice again.

"Burt....Burt just invited them over so they c-c-could make fun of me!" Todd was now sobbing almost harder than when he was getting is little, rosie cheeks slapped.

"That's it, boy!" Dad snapped. "Corner time for you is the rest of the game!"

Lyle and I gasped....wait until Burt and the other found out!! Dad had never done THAT before!! "DADDY! NO THAT'S NOT FAIR!!" Todd said to my astonishment. Stupid kid, I remember thinking. He'll learn soon enough.

"You want fair, you will get fair after the game, buster!"

That was the first time that Todd really learned not to push Dad. He not only held to his promise of keeping Todd, naked, sore and trembling in the corner for the entire game, but when the game was over (and the Washington won), Todd got a second spanking for the day, followed by another half hour of corner time. All to the delight of me, my brothers and as many of our friends as we could get over (yes, there were PLENTY of jokes at Todd's expense about him being an honorary RED-SKIN now).

Despite the Eagles loss, it was quite a day for all there.