April Fools and Sports Medicine

Written per Katherine Sheridan's request. 

Sports medicine is a growing career field, made possible by the expansion of biotechnology and medicine into the realms of professional sports, funded by professional sports teams and colleges--and, you know what, it actually sounds kind of boring. Until you pull a muscle or something. Or end up in a boot.

This is Boot, Destroyer of Track Seasons,  Scourge of Soccer, and the Reason TJXC Never Won States.

You see, female athletes have very fragile legs. And for some reason, TJXC was particularly unlucky in this department. I'm was the only girl on my varsity team who never had to wear one, which is probably because I never ran fast enough to get a stress fracture, or because I didn't stress out about things like summer jobs or my grades (at least, not as much as Taylor did).

In fact, foot injuries are so common that an entire varsity distance squad can one by one tell their coach that they can't run in the next day's meet, and he'll totally believe them.

It all started on one cloudy April Fools Day. Like most April Fools Days, this one took place in early April. There was a track meet the next day, which would end up being so windy and cold running wasn't worth it, but we didn't know this at the time. So there we were, jogging around the track, being good little girls, when all of a sudden, Lisa, team captain/West Pointer/champion runner/girl scout/environmentalist had a idea that the Lisas of this world aren't supposed to endorse, let alone conceive of.

"Let's play a prank on Coach James," she says.

Now Coach James, although he looks like a bulldog, happens not to be the most observant man in the universe, especially when faced with micromanaging a group of fifty sprinters. Coaching distance runners is fairly easy--you tell them to go run five miles, and they go do it. But sprinters are notoriously irresponsible, and must be told how exactly to move their legs.

The average sprinter, as seen by Coach James

The average Coach James

So we decided it'd be a good idea to, one by one, go up to Coach and tell him that we were all to injured to participate in the meet. We thought he'd catch on after the first four, but we underestimated just how easily distracted one adult watching over fifty teenagers can be.

Lisa, being our evil mastermind, went first. She'd had a lingering foot injury for all of her high school career, and Coach barely batted an eyelash (I don't think he has eyelashes to bat) before releasing her down to the athletic trainers. Kelly went next. This is when we discovered that she has excellent acting abilities, as she actually managed to whip up false tears and goad another girl into freaking out with her over a potentially pulled muscle. It worked quite well, because Coach is one of those men made vaguely uncomfortable by crying girls. Come to think of it, most men are this way.

The rest of the girls and I watched from a distance as Coach dismissed the other girls to the trainers. "This can't possibly be working," Margaret said. After all, these were the team's two top runners he'd just sent out. But there was a squadron of sprinters who hadn't worn the right uniform to discipline (keep in mind, this is on a team where the coach buys a new uniform every single year), and Coach James simply was not paying attention.

We sent in Stephanie and Katherine as a group, because Stephanie has the unflinching ability to giggle tremendously whenever she lies and was still surprised by her surprise party even after her sister accidentally told her about it. Katherine is a bit better at lying than Stephanie. My running shoes are better at lying than Stephanie.

And Coach swallowed it. "I can't believe it," Ronit said, disgustedly determining to raise the stakes. As we ran down a lane, she purposefully kicked over a hurdle and shouted "Ow!" at the top of her lungs.

Hurdles: the NASCAR of track and field. 

"Ronit!" we all shouted in unison, very loudly. "Are you all right?" Coach still didn't look up. Not even when Ronit, the star of the 4x800 relay, ran over and told him she'd tripped over a hurdle (keep in mind, she's one of the few coordinated people on the team), did he call us out. Ronit jogged down to the trainers.

"My turn!" I said, and screamed "Ow!" as loud as I could. Drawing on my comprehensive middle-school theater training, I limped dramatically over to Coach James. "Coach, Coach, I think I pulled my--"

"Go down to the trainers." He raised his voice. "And another thing! You've got to keep your pants on until it's time for you to race!"

I'd heard enough of the pants talk, so I limped across the field until I was out of sight and ran back down to the school building. Katherine, Stephanie, Ronit, Lisa, and Kelly were already there. We had a great laugh and continued running around the building. Rekha joined us, bringing our number to seven. Seven runners pulling out! Man, we'd fooled him!

All was well until fellow distance runner Jonathan Phillips comes racing down to see us. "You've got to get up to the track! Coach found out and he's really mad!"

"He threw his clipboard to the ground and cursed a lot," Jake added.

Lisa grew very pale. "What have we done?" she said.

We raced up to the track. Coach was still there. Only now, he was actually paying attention to us. You don't really understand what it means to have someone 'glower' at you until someone actually does it. "Were you girls playing a prank on me?" he said.

Lisa's eyes darted left and right. "Um . . . April Fools?" she squeaked. The fact that she's fundamentally fearless should tell you a lot about how angry he was.

"I called the meet director and pulled you all out of your races!" he shouted.

"No!" Kelly gasps. "Please, Coach, you have to fix it!"

I was kind of celebrating on the inside--those races are pretty grueling, and tomorrow was supposed to be cold. Coach pulled out his phone, punched in a number, and started grumbling to the man on the other end. "So, apparently, my girls team was playing some kind of prank on me and . . . wait, what do you mean the entries can't be re-done? What do you call that? Oh, right." He looked at us. "PAYBACK! April Fools!"

So it turns out that Margret and Rachel had gone to Coach after we'd left and told him they were suffering from 'April fool-itis'. They ran up and laughed at us. Kelly exhaled. Rekha hugged me. "We knew he was pranking us, right? You didn't look upset at all!"

"I can't wait to race!" I said. On the inside, I thought, April Fools.