Note: This story is an attempt to recall the matter-of-fact and semi-humorous attitude toward corporal punishment I observed growing up. Although the scenario I imagine here is not from personal experience, the spirit in which the action takes place definitely is. If it rings a bell with any readers, I would be happy to hear about it. -JK
Walt Murdock sat at his office desk with a problem. He was going to have to discipline his baseball team. He pushed his Badgers cap back to scratch his bald spot, considering what ought to be done. The season wasn't going right, even though it had started out well. The boys had let some early victories go to their heads, and now you couldn't tell them anything if their lives depended on it. 'They think they're pros now,' Murdock thought, shaking his head.
After a spate of absenteeism and low-effort practices, he had promised the athletes that if they lost their next game against Barton, there would be a penalty. Now he actually had to come up with one. He had already tried just about everything: extra laps, longer practices, restriction of privileges; nothing seemed to be getting through to them. How was he going to teach his guys that motivation and team effort counted?
"I know just what this would have earned when I was in school," Walt thought. Back then, behavior like this would have got a player introduced to the Board of Education!"
He wondered why everyone flew off the handle at the idea of corporal punishment for athletes. As far as he was concerned, a few swats on the butt from their coach was not going to hurt anyone. They might not like it much at the time, but it did them good. "Teaches boys to deal with adversity and take responsibility--and be a good sports, too" thought Walt.
He leaned back in the chair as his scouting days came to mind. His scoutmaster Mr. Jacobs had used a paddle. "The Fanny Warmer," Walt remembered. It was always kept handy, especially at scout camp. Not just to keep us in line, but for the games and recreation too," he recalled with a chuckle. Some of the races and team competitions at camp had involved that paddle for the losers!
These were just the kind of values we should be instilling on our athletic teams, Walt thought with conviction. A good lesson by the seat o' the pants was exactly what these young men needed. What if he just did it? He had some clout with the school, since a winning team was priority one in this part of the country. What if he talked to all the boys' parents first--especially the fathers? As a grim smile broadened on his face, Coach Murdock began to hatch a plan.
Walt was surprised to find that most of the parents were all for his proposal, who said maybe a little heat to the seat wasn't such a bad idea. In the end even those who were uncertain agreed that it should be tried. One dad wanted to know if only certain boys would get it, and Murdock assured him that every player was going to get swatted, no exceptions. Before long it was settled, and three of the team fathers offered to help him set up the little event.
Jeff Henske's dad Ralph had a wood shop, and Walt met with him to make a paddle. They made it 20 inches long and 4 inches wide, about half an inch thick. They used a tough but lightweight wood. The two men agreed the Board should have holes in it to increase the sting. After a few coats of varnish it was ready.
The next night Walt's three helpers came over to see the results. "Here it is," he said after passing out the beers, "the instrument of doom."
"A-ha," Dan Warner said, trying its grip and popping it across his hand a couple of times. "This oughta get their attention," he said cheerily. Everyone agreed: it was going to be both appropriate and effective. After a couple of beers a couple of guys started to joke about testing it out. Henske figured that as the maker, he should be the one to find out what it felt like on the receiving end; so he bent to put his hands on his knees. Whack! He straightened up mighty quick, as everyone laughed. Yep, Thursday afternoon would be a practice the team wouldn't soon forget.
That was Tuesday night, and the next day Walt announced to his players that because of their bad attitude and poor performance, they were in trouble. Thursday would be "P-Day" for the team; "P" for Punishment. Anyone not present and on time for the activity would be permanently dropped from the roster. No exceptions. The boys wondered what was in store for them, since the Coach hadn't specified. "Probably just extra laps," Steve Warner shrugged.
"Hey, you gonna be there for 'P-Day?' Josh Hanson asked Brent LaSalle, the Badgers best pitcher, as they were getting dressed after practice Wednesday afternoon.
"_f_u_c_k_in' A," said Brent, snapping his friend with a towel. "Piece of cake."
"OK losers," yelled Coach after blowing the whistle to end Thursday's practice, "get your little fannies in the shower!" The players got hustled double time off the field and into the locker-room, and Dan Warner, Ralph Henske and Brent LaSalle's dad Pete helped them along with a few playful kicks in the butt. They had discussed with Coach Murdock whether the boys should be spanked before showering, but had decided to let them clean up first. None of young men concerned had a clue what was waiting for them yet.
The towel counter was locked, and the team was told to report to the wrestling room after showering to get a towel. Soon the guys were filing in their birthday suits, unaccustomed to walking down the passage nude. They had to be careful walking on the cement floor too because of all the dripping water.
Just as it started to dawn on them that there were no towels there, Brent LaSalle's dad locked the doors.
"Line up around the edge of the mat, boys" Mr. Henske said. As they did so, feeling awkward and anxious now, Coach Murdock took something out of a duffel bag.
Young jaws dropped when they saw what he was holding.
"Gentlemen, we've tried everything else; now we're gonna get to the seat of the problem," Coach Murdock said and gave his palm a swat. "We're gonna have a little paddling party. Everybody on the team's invited; step on up and report for licks!"
The team couldn't believe their eyes. No way could this be happening--yet there they all were in their bare asses, about to get swatted with a paddle! As the protests (and some laughter) died down, the Coach said "Settle down, young bucks. You've all had this coming, so let's be good sports about a little team punishment!"
Nobody could deny that, and soon the team got seated around the edge of the mat for an experience some had thought about but no one had ever thought could happen for real.
"Addison, Keith--front and center!"
Addison walked up, embarrassed and scared.
"Stand on the X here, son." Keith got on the X mark taped on the middle of the wrestling mat. He was a big boy who wrestled, a senior as tall as the coach, and he was breathing fast in agitation. Walt guided him around so that he was facing the other way. "You'll live through this," he said. Then he addressed his players.
"This team seems to have trouble paying attention, so in this exercise we're gonna practice the Listening Position: heels together and touching your toes! If at any time a player's hands leaves his feet during his lesson, he gets to start his paddling over! Is that clear!?"
"Yes, Sir!"
"I SAID IS THAT CLEAR!??"
"YES SIR!"
"Bend over, Addison!"
Keith bent down, and no sooner had he grabbed his ankles than the sting of the paddle on his wet butt gave him quite a surprise. Ow! And OWW! the second one was worse! And what really surprised him were the wide-eyed grins all around him. _s_h_i_t_, these guys seemed to be enjoying this! Whaack! OWW! Mr. LaSalle and Mr. Henske were calling out the count, with the guys laughing as Coach Murdock paddled. OWW! Swwwat! "Oww, dammit!"
"Keep your position, Addison!" warned the Coach.
"Yes Sir!" he wailed.
Each time the Board smacked him, Addison jumped and a lot of the guys laughed.
Whaack!!
Aa-howw!! What was so god_d_a_m_n_ funny, this hurt!
That was seven, there were three more to go.
"Better make these last ones count, Coach!" smirked Mr. LaSalle. "_f_u_c_k_!" thought Addison, "what did I ever do to him?"
On they came, and each swat was a revelation to young Keith, who didn't know his butt could sting so hot!
Addison got to straighten up and go back to his seat.
"Axelrod, David! Get your butt up here!"
Jeff and Davey Axelrod were juniors, and they were twins. Somebody said they ought to have to take their swats together, and the Coach agreed.
"Okay Jeff, you too, on the double!"
Jeff trotted up beside his brother, just as the door opened and Dan Warner entered followed by Hank Axelrod, the twins dad. Jeff and Davey turned to look behind them imploringly, hands over their privates, but there was no rescue in store.
"Go ahead Coach," said their dad, nodding. "They turned 18 this month, now they think they own the _d_a_m_n_ place."
Coach took the Board of Education and lined the boys up side by side, then had them grab their ankles. "Two hard paddlings, coming up!"
Down the roster he went: Bates, Bradley, Channing, Delvecchio, Elroy; lessons were learned as the boys experienced a little old fashioned style discipline. Walt was pleased with the paddle: light and easy to handle, but sturdy enough for a painful and embarrassing swat. Ferrington, Haig, Hanson, Hornberger. And as he spanked, he knew he was providing a useful and lasting memory for his players.
Jorgenson, Kellenberg, LaSalle. When Brent came up for his, he had extra grief to deal with, because his dad had to blab about it being his birthday. Mr. LaSalle had a party hat that said "Birthday Boy," which he made Brent wear while he got the paddling, and told everyone how appropriate it was for him to be in his birthday suit. Then the men, Axelrod, Warner, Henske and LaSalle joined in a growly Happy Birthday while Coach swatted his behind.
"HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO YOU!"
Swwatt!
"HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO YOU!!"
Swwatt!
"HAPPY BIRTHDAY, DEAR BRENT-TIE!!"
Swwatt! Swwatt! Swwatt!
"HAAAPPY B-I-I-IRTHDAY TO-O-O YOU-OOO!!"
Swwatt! Swwatt! Swwatt! Swwatt! Swwatt! The tearful yells and exclamations of young Brentie were quite the source of levity (for some)!
One by one the players got their bottoms warmed, with many sniffles and sobs. He wasn't brutal, but their coach did make sure they got a _d_a_m_n_ good lesson. He took care that the paddle met each bare heinie ten times, right smack in the middle. The team watched in sinking anticipation as the punishments progressed, the licks ringing off the wrestling room walls.
"This is what it's like to attend a team swat party!" Mr. Axelrod told them severely. "Don't worry, everybody gets a turn!"
Coach Murdock saw that the punishment was having its effect, because the boys' faces were as red as their sore behinds! When he was done, he made the boys stand and put their hands on top of their heads.
"In the next exercise--" said the Coach, and the groans of protest and dismay were pitiful to hear.
"IN THE NEXT exercise," repeated Murdock with a chuckle, "we're going to have some fun. This drill teaches coordination and skill in following directions. Drill formation!"
The players got in their formation for calisthenics like they did every day on the field. But they'd never done it like this before! Kevin Hornberger saw the red swats and paddle holes on the butts of his teammates. He wondered what his own butt looked like. It stung like hell, when was this gonna be over!? But now Coach was explaining something. He put his paddle on the stool and with a giant grin on his face like he'd been waiting to do this for years, stretched his big arms out wide. As a matter of fact, he had been looking forward to doing this ever since he remembered one of Mr. Jacobs' favorite scout camp games.
"Follow my motions exactly, gentlemen," he instructed. "I clap, YOU clap." He demonstrated by bringing his arms together so that his hands met with a smack. "I miss, YOU miss!" He repeated the motion, but let his hands just miss each other. "Easy enough?"
"Yes sir Coach," came the sullen replies.
"Good. Here's the fun part. When the music plays, we exercise." Mr. Henske brought a little cassette player and set it on the cement. "When the music stops, boys who don't _f_u_c_k_ up get to stay in the game; boys who do... pay a penalty!" Then he picked up the paddle.
Those poor guys, you should have heard them groan!
"Mr. LaSalle Salle will do the honors."
Pete LaSalle took a couple of practice swings with the Board. "Penalty Box open for business!" he said. "Step in and grab your ankles!"
"Ok men," he hollered, "ready and... exercise!"
Henske started the cassette player and the wrestling room was filled with the dopey strains of "Pop Goes the Weasel" as the boys hesitantly and nervously tried to follow the coach's moves, fearing the music would stop and they'd get caught out. Clap! Miss! Miss! Miss! Clap! Miss! Clap! Coach Murdock began to do jumping jacks, swinging his arms, and the team had to follow suit. Now they didn't have time to worry so much and began to relax with the exercise; boy it sure felt dumb doing jumping jacks in the nude; on the other hand it was kind of fun--when Snap! the music stopped. Three unlucky boys were caught, and the eagle eyes of Mr. Henske, Mr. LaSalle and Mr. Warner quickly pointed them out. Of course, many more had failed but hadn't been detected.
"Jeff Axelrod! Steve Warner! Brandon Haig! Front and center!"
Mr. LaSalle lined the losers up in front of the team. "Let's see some sportsmanship!" he said.
Each boy got a hard lick and then had to sit down. Then the music started. The game continued and more boys got paddled for bad coordination. After ten rounds only Josh Hanson and Kevin Hornberger were left. Coach tried and tried, but he couldn't make them mess up! After the twelfth round he gave up and told them they could each give each other one lick. Josh and Kevin's eyes got wide. They couldn't wait to swat butt! Coach told Kevin to get down in position and grab his ankles, and showed Josh how to use the paddle right, a good swing with follow-through and snapping his wrist at the last. Josh gripped the paddle and swung way back--- Oh man, he really let Kevin have it. WHHACK! Hornberger popped up like a shot, angry. "Dammit Hanson!"
"Don't worry Kevin, payback time. Josh's turn on the hot seat!" Josh bent down, looking back nervously. "Hold your ankles!" Kevin told him. He gripped the paddle and stepped back to give his friend a swat. WHHACK!! Hanson had to yell, and straightened up real fast grabbing his butt. He was sucking in air through his teeth, eyes watering. Then Coach made them shake hands. Breathing hard and sniffling, the boys went to the matt and carefully sat down, smarting real good.
"Gentlemen we're about done," he said. "Just one more exercise for team spirit. Line up and face the wall! Mr. Henske, Mr. Axelrod and Mr. Warner will now go down the line and give you something to remember them by."
Walt handed the butt-warmer to Mr. Henske. "Make them count," he said. One by one, the dads went down the line. Whack! Smack! Pop! The bending boys grabbed their ankles and gritted their teeth as they got swatted; and Axelrod, Henske and Warner raised some welts. Years later, Brandon Haig recalled that it stung bad and how embarrassing it was. Pretty soon it was done. The Coach congratulated them on taking their punishment and said he hoped they wouldn't have to have another swat party anytime soon. Then he told them to get their clothes on and clear out. The slate was clean.
Two weeks later Coach Murdock held a meeting at his house for the team dads, and all agreed that the plan had been a success. Not only were practices and team skills progressing to his satisfaction, but the parents reported the boys attitudes at home greatly improved.
Carl Hanson mused with a chuckle, "Just took a few licks with the Board!"
"Yup," Bill Hornberger agreed, "They knew they had it coming and found out that we gave a _d_a_m_n_, and for a few days they got reminded every time they sat down!"
The Badgers had a pretty decent season, and Coach Murdock never had to take them to the wrestling room after practice again.