Pretty Fly For Some White Guys
My kids and I played a game of Bounce or Fly after dinner tonight, and each time my eight year old son took his turn kicking, he’d offer me a high five. Jesus, I can’t remember the last time I was involved in something so forced and awkward. The two of us might be the whitest people on the face of the planet. We’re “Shopping At The Gap” White. “Fluffernutter On Wonder Bread” White. How white are we? We’re “Tiger Woods” White.
Why is Tiger Woods so fucking white? It’s like he was so busy practicing out on the course as a kid that he missed a class or something. I mean, I see his skin color, so my mind tells me that he’s not white. But then just about everything he does screams “White Guy”. I mean, look at this shit:
What. The. Fuck?
Anyway, that was my son and I. We couldn’t get our high five shit together at all, which made me feel ridiculous. But if there’s one thing whiter than fucking up a high five, it’s practicing high fives, and so I let it pass without comment. When we were done playing, I went out and bought a Toyota Prius.
I don’t know if anyone else played Bounce or Fly, but it was a recess staple in grade school. The idea is simple: One person kicks the ball high in the air, and everyone else scrambles to catch it on a fly, or on one bounce. Whoever does gets to kick the ball next.
That description, however, omits a crucial detail: Violence. When I was growing up, there were no rules other than what constituted a good catch. That meant you were free to fucking maim anyone that got in between you and the ball, and being eight year olds, we took that shit to heart. But, and this was important, violence that was regarded as over the top would be met with similar violence. This ensured that we policed ourselves and kept the game civil and ultimately safe.
Hahaha, just kidding. It ensured that the violence escalated at the drop of a hat until chainsaws were involved. The game was fucking awesome. I remember one kid in my class named Mike came to school one day with a note, which he gave to the teacher before recess.
“What’s this?” our teacher asked.
“It’s a note from my mom. She doesn’t want anyone to play Bounce or Fly during recess because it’s too violent.”
“Why does everyone have to stop playing? You can choose not to play if you don’t want to.”
Mike kind of hemmed and hawed, then finally said, “Everyone plays Bounce or Fly. If I don’t play, I’ll have nothing to do.” Looking at the rest of the class, the boys all actively plotting a Revenge Wedgie of epic proportions, Mike became desperate and lifted his shirt up. “Look! I have bruises!”
“Oh, suck it up!” said the teacher, who instantly became a whole helluva lot cooler in our eyes. “If you don’t like it, don’t play.”
Mike was right, all of the boys played Bounce or Fly during recess, and after a few minutes of watching from the sidelines he quietly slipped into the field of play. We beat the ever-loving shit out of him that day. Hahaha! Sorry, Mike! I hope you eventually got used to that wheelchair.
Needless to say, we played a much less violent version of the game this evening. In fact, my son complained loudly when his sister knocked the ball out of his hands right as he was getting ready to catch it. I had to explain that knocking the ball out of an opponent’s hands was a good strategy.
Five minutes later we were dealing with karate chops to the larynx.
No, not really. It didn’t get testy because the age range of everyone was so great that anyone who got out of bounds risked having daddy throw them on the roof, and I made sure they knew it.
But as fun as it was, the high five thing was dispiriting. I felt ineffably lame when I went inside, the whitest man on the planet. Or at least I did until after the boys went to bed and my daughter asked me for help with her math homework. Then I felt Asian.
Mike’s mum must have been the original instigator of helicopter parenting.
At least one primary school here has recently banned kids doing somersaults and cartwheels during recess, because the kids could get hurt. Yesterday I watched two little girls, who I think were in Out of School Care, practicing cartwheels and some kind of cheerleader move that looked fairly difficult and included one kid leaping on the other kid. They were having fun, no one died or lost an eye, and when one little girl finally got a cartwheel right, she was thrilled. That’s the way it should be.
Ps: I was waiting for the bus, not hanging around an elementary school watching kids.
Pps: Try a fistbump; you are less likely to miss, Whitey.
hahahahaha….fist bumps rule!
No, we’re so white that a fist bump would just result in someone getting punched in the face.
High-fives are my pet-peeve. When offered one, I leave the offender hanging.
Don’t accost me with that shit. I don’t do camaraderie.
You a very cool to do that with your son!
Leaving someone hanging when they offer a high five doesn’t make you white, it makes you Albanian. (I don’t know why, but those are the rules.)
I am so confused. How do you get a high-five wrong, Dogs?
My husband does the fist bump followed by a hand slap thingy. It drives me crazy. Personally I don’t want any of it – no handshake, high-five, or fist bump. Let’s just nod at one another and not swap germs, thank you very much.
What? We’re going to need a video of the fist bump/hand slap thingy. And don’t leave us hanging like Rose, up there.
How do we screw up a high five? Well, I used to be pretty heavily into sports, and over time I overcame my whiteness to a certain extent. But you add an 8 year old white boy to the mix, and it’s back to square one with that shit. We couldn’t be whiter if we wore Dockers.
When I was in high school, we’d play something called German Ball – not for recess, gym. It was violent to the point that even though they had co-ed gym classes, the girls were all allowed to say, “yeah, fuck no – I just finally got these braces off.” or, “no way am I bruising my tits, they’re new.” and sit the period out.
It was like indoor kickball/dodgeball on steroids, to my recollection. That’s NJ for you.
German Ball? Did you have some bitter, aging WW II vet for a gym teacher?
“Ok, lissen up everyone! We’re gonna play German Ball. Just run around trying to kill everyone. Oh, uh, Rabinowicz, you’re probably gonna want to sit this one out.”
We played WARBALL in school. Pretty closely related to the dodgeball of today. It eventually got banned despite how much we enjoyed it due to a few “concerned” parents. I hated adults that day.
Check this game out. Shrovetide. 1 ball, hundreds of players, the goals are 3 miles apart, and the game is played on the streets of the town in which it is played, and a game can go on for DAYS.
I love the rules (these are the real rules)
Committing murder or manslaughter is prohibited.
The ball may not be carried in a motorised vehicle.
The ball may not be hidden in a bag, coat or rucksack, etc.
Cemeteries, churchyards and the town memorial gardens are strictly out of bounds.
Playing after 10 pm is forbidden.
To score a goal the ball must be tapped 3 times in the area of the goal.
Mike deserved that. I still remember when gameboys got banned because some kid
kept losing in Pokemon.
(I accidentally submitted the first part of this message. I hope I don’t fuck up your stats or whatever.)
Oh, yeah, my stats are fucked now. You’ll be hearing from my lawyer.
That kid Mike was a total queef, and straight A’s or not, somehow he was so stupid that he didn’t understand why people wanted to beat his ass after trying to get our game banned.
As for Pokemon, I remember in the mid 90’s Pogs were a thing, and they got banned from school because kids were beating the everloving shit out of each other over them. I wish I had video of that.