"I'm gonna remind you guys once more why you're here," Coach Richard Schwartz addressed the nine of his football players who sat in the classroom of the high school gym. They gazed at him sleepily, most still resentful at having to be there on a Saturday morning. "You failed the academic proficiency test last week and should have lost your athletic eligibility. I say should have, because after I practically begged the school board, they agreed to give you another chance. I promised them that your grades would come up, and believe me, they will. That's what we're going to spend the next few Saturdays hard at work on. Right?"
Coach Schwartz received only groans from his players as they contemplated the dreary prospect of the six Saturdays before them. Expecting this response, he continued. "To help you guys along, we're going to play a little game."
This sparked the jocks' interest, and they watched as Coach Schwartz walked over to a desk, opened a drawer, and pulled out his all too familiar paddle. Each of the boys had signed his name many times to that 14'' by 4" piece of wood, which was thick enough to leave a memorable impression, but thin enough so that the coach could swing it through the air with fiendish ease. The football players shifted uneasily in their chairs.
"Don't worry, guys," Coach Schwartz mocked, "You won't feel this if you can answer a few simple questions." He indicated a stack of notecards on the desk. "I'm sure none of you watches Jeopardy, but since this is my variation, it doesn't matter. Here are the rules. You come up here, I pick a card, tell you the category, then ask you the question. If you give the right answer, you get to sit back down. But if you miss it..." He waved the paddle in a simulation of one of his butt-blistering swats. "Get the picture?"
This demonstration really woke the boys up.
Knowing he had a literally captive audience, Coach Schwartz went on. "To make sure you play along like good boys, I have some notes in my pocket. If you behave, you get to take one to your dad, saying you cooperated, and there'll be no further punishment. Now, if this evening, your dad doesn't get the note he's expecting - well, I'm not responsible for the consequences. You guys know better than I do what they'll be, but I know your dads and so I have a pretty good idea. And they won't be pleasant, am I right?"
The jocks squirmed and blushed as they easily recalled the various forms of butt-tanning their fathers employed without hesitation.
"Yeah, that's what I thought!" Coach Schwartz smiled. "So let's get started. Bryant - up here."
The team's center rose and walked unsurely to the front. of the classroom. "Bend over and grab your ankles, mister!" Coach Schwartz issued his well-known command. The young man obeyed readily, sticking his jean-clad butt up toward the coach.
Schwartz looked at it. "Yeah, I've seen that way too many times!" he joked, then picked a card from the pile on the desk. "Okay, Bryant, the category is state capitols." He stood beside the boy and placed his paddle against the awaiting rear end. "The answer is "This is the capitol of New York" Now think carefully, son. Remember what's at stake." He rubbed the paddle around the seat of Bryant's jeans. "And by the way, you won't be penalized if you don't phrase your answer in the form of a question. Got it, Bryant? You know this one, big guy. The capitol of New York?"
"New York City?" the jock answered hopefully.
"Bryant.." the coach sighed and raised his paddle.
"No?" Bryant asked.
Crack! The paddle smacked his butt.
"Ow! _d_a_m_n_, Coach!" the jock yelled.
"But you will be penalized for swearing. I'll let you off this time since I didn't warn you. Sit down, Bryant, if you can. I'm afraid all you boys will be standing up before the morning's over," he quipped. "Ford, up here now!"
Ford, on his way forward, exchanged a sympathetic glance with Bryant who was headed back to his chair, rubbing the seat of his pants.
"In position, Ford," Coach Schwartz ordered, then touched his paddle to another well-presented jock butt. "You know the capitol of New York?"
"Albany, sir?"
"Very good, Ford. You can sit back down. Williams!"
Ford gratefully took his seat as the team's quarterback shot to the front and bent over.
"Good boy," Coach Schwartz smiled, then picked another card. "Let's see what we have for you. Oh, a daily double already!"
"What's that mean?" Williams asked from somwhere near the ground.
"I'm about to explain. It means that if you give the wrong answer, you get two swats instead of one."
"Hey, that's not fair!"
"But if your answer is right, you get to skip your next turn."
"Oh," Williams responded, unappeased.
"The category is science and the answer is 'This is the planet closest to the sun' ''. He touched the paddle to the seat of the quarterback's jeans.
"Wait, I know this! It was that day last week when I didn't fall asleep in Mr. Lucas' class! It's Mercury!"
"Right you are, Williams. You can sit down. Hammond!"
Hammond's task was to name the fourth president of the United States.
"Uh, lemme think - Washington, Lincoln --it's Reagan!"
Crack!
"Ow! You mean it's Carter?"
Crack! He received another lick for his second wrong answer.
The game proceeded smoothly, with the coach's paddle cracking more often than not at the jocks' answers. Then it was the turn of Troy Garner, the halfback. Coach Schwartz was expecting trouble, and he got it.
When Troy was summoned, he got up ever so slowly and began a deliberate saunter toward the front of the class. Coach Schwartz pointed a chunky finger at the floor. "I want your butt up here today, Garner!"
The jock not only didn't hurry, but smirked at his coach before he finally bent over.
"Okay, wise guy. The catergory is literature."
"Oh, boy," quipped Garner.
"The answer is 'This is the author of The Pit and the Pendulum'.''
"Duh. Hemingway."
"Sor-ry!" He was more than happy to give Garner's butt a particularly stinging swat.
At last the session came to an end, with every jock butt tingling from at least two licks. The boys still squirmed in their seats, but not from nervousness now.
Coach Schwartz said, "Now we have a study period. Look on your desks and you'll find some papers with the material we've covered this morning. Later we'll have the delicious sandwiches the lunchroom workers prepared for us, then we go to round two - double jeopardy!"
The boys all looked at one another.
"Yeah. And if you thought the first half was tough..."
Lunch was over all too soon.
"Let me explain double jeopardy, guys. It's like before, except the questions are harder."
"Ohhh..."
"Fraid so. And..." he paused dramatically, "this time before you bend over, you have to pull your pants down."
Cries of "Oh, no!", "Please!" and "Coach!" followed.
"Sorry, fellas. You have to play along. Remember I have these notes for your dads in my pocket. It's up to me if he gets one this evening. Got it?"
A chorus of resigned groans sounded.
"Good! Then let's start the round. I hope all you guys wore underwear! Up here again, Bryant!"
Bryant returned to the front.
"Drop 'em!" the coach ordered.
Bryant began to undo his belt and jeans. Then he looked up pleadingly at Schwartz. "Coach..."
"C'mon, son," the coach urged.
With a sigh, Bryant pulled his jeans halfway down his thighs and bent over.
Normally, the sight of a guy's exposed underpants would have produced at least a few chuckles; but Bryant's teammates, realizing they would soon be in the same predicament, maintained a scared silence.
Bryant could escape the swat if he could name the westernmost province of Canada.
He couldn't.
Crack!
"Oh oh oooh!" He barely restrained himself from swearing.
"Feels a little different with your pants down, doesn't it, son?"
"You can say that again!" Bryant pulled up his jeans and began rubbing his rear end through them. He returned to stand by his desk, unable to sit.
"Ford!" Coach Schwartz called.
"Hey, Coach, remember? I got a daily double question right. You said I got to skip my next turn."
"So I did. Taylor!"
Taylor decided to pull a fast one. "You said I could skip my next turn too, Coach."
"So I didn't. Get up here!"
Taylor ran fast.
"Drop 'em and over!" came the command.
The teenager promptly complied. A hole in his briefs revealed a spot of pinkened butt cheek.
"First," said Coach Schwartz, "You're gonna get a penalty swat for lying."
"Coach..."
Crack!
"Oh hell!"
"And now you're gonna get a another penalty swat for swearing."
"Oh - oh - Coach -"
"Okay, son, I'll let you off since you're not gonna know the next answer anyway."
Sure enough, he didn't.
Crack!
"Ow! Oh my butt!"
Pretty soon all the jocks were standing by their desks.
Schwartz again had a problem with Garner, having to threaten him with withholding the note that would get him off the hook with his dad. At last, Troy strolled up to the front and dropped his pants. Coach Schwartz was almost sorry when he got the answer right.
The second round drew to a close. The coach announced another study period, and then - final jeopardy. His players anguished over what that could possibly mean.
Then, an hour later, he spoke again.
"Use a little logic, guys. If in double jeopardy you had to pull down your pants, then in final jeopardy..."
The horrible truth dawned on the football boys.
"That's right guys, you have to pull down your underpants too. That means if you get the answer wrong, there's gonna be nothing between you and this piece of wood." He twitched the paddle.
The jocks gulped and looked at one another.
"There's only one question, guys, but three licks if you miss it. You heard me - three big smackeroos!"
"On the bare butt?" Williams asked unbelievingly.
"On the bare butt. Thank you, Williams, I couldn't have put it better myself," Coach Schwartz joked.
"Do we still get a note for our dad?"
"I promised you would if you cooperated, didn't I? Now, you write your answer on a piece of paper. I'll write the question on the blackboard."
The jocks shivered in anticipation of what obscure question the coach would ask as the last event of the day. When they saw it, they gave a sigh of relief and gratitude to their coach. He had written "Name a movie which features the character Luke Skywalker."
They quickly wrote their answers down, even Troy, who did so with his usual smirk.
Coach Schwartz moved around the desks, checking the answers. With three possibilities, how could even a jock miss? To each boy he said, "Okay, here you go," and gave him the much worked for note with his name on it. Reaching Troy at the very end, he said, "Please tell me you didn't so something stupid, Garner."
He looked at Troy's sheet of paper. It said "_f_u_c_k_ you."
Coach Schwartz tried to joke. "Hey, I never heard of that movie. Is it on video?' Then his mood changed, and he sighed "Garner..." through clenched teeth.
Troy only smiled at him.
Finally Coach Schwartz held up the note with "Garner" written on it. "I guess you realize this means you won't be getting a note, son. Your dad isn't going to be too happy..."
"You said I'd get a note even..."
"I said you'd get one if you cooperated!"
"Well here's what I think of your note!" Troy snatched it from the coach's hand and tore it to pieces.
Coach Schwartz somehow kept his temper. "Have it your way, Garner. But you've still got licks coming, so..."
"No way, man!"
His teammates had been whispering among themselves, and now two spoke up. "We'll take care of this, Coach." They grabbed Troy and bent him over. He struggled as two other guys began pulling down his jeans. "You asked for this, you jerk!" they warned. Ford grabbed hold of Troy's underpants and pulled down, ripping them in the process. Troy's naked butt, decorated by a red blotch on each cheek, bounced amid the crowd of boys. "Okay, Coach, there's his butt - do something about it!"
"Thanks, guys, I believe I will."
Crack!
"Ow! _d_a_m_n_ it, that hurt!"
Crack!
"Yeoow! Be careful, that's my butt back there!"
Crack!
"Shiiit!" Troy yelled. The guys let go and Troy fell to the floor, grabbing his burning butt.
Coach Schwartz regained his composure after this satisfying exercise. "I hope you'll do better next week, Mr Garner." He looked at the clock. "Okay, boys, your dads should be waiting outside to take you home."
A few minutes later he was escorting the guys out the door. Troy was still trying to adjust his pants into a comfortable position. "By the way, Garner, I saw your dad yesterday at the barber shop."
Troy sniffed and glared out of his red eyes. "So?"
"Yeah, he was picking up a razor strap he had ordered. Said his old one was worn out and he needed a new one for this weekend."
Troy froze.
"Funny thing. He was already ordering a new strap because he said he intended to wear out the new one in just a few days. Bye, son." He pushed Troy out the door and slammed it.
Troy began pounding on the door. "Wait, Coach, how about another chance? What was that question again?" Suddenly from somewhere behind him Troy heard his father's voice. "Son, you better have a note from Richard for me, because if you don't..." Troy began pounding again. "Coach, just a few lines for my dad! How much is it worth to you? You want to paddle my bare butt some more? Coach..."