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The Greatest Geek Upset in Football History
Funny Football Jokes,
Geek Jokes, School Jokes
Everybody is talking NFL Football. But
screw the NFL!!! Let me tell you
about MY proudest moment in Football.
8th Grade Gym Class.
Mr. Chi (short for Mr. Chiarelloyoyoyofuhgedaboudit) held a tournament
with A TROPHY for the winner!
Now, this is 8th grade. When you're a 13 year old boy you
else to live for besides the glory that can only be earned while wearing
a smelly blue t-shirt with orange letters stating I.S. 181.
So who cares?
YOU! Because this was the GREATEST UPSET of
ALL-TIME! In any sport. In any country. On any planet. We were
the 5 million to 1 underdogs.
This would be like a Dentist beating an Ice Cream Truck Driver in a
popularity contest judged by 8 year olds.
This would be like my Uncle Stu the accountant beating 50 Cent in
a freestyle rap battle.
This would be like Mother Theresa beating Paris Hilton in a skank-off.
Because we were the "Exceptionally Gifted" Class. E.G. as they called
it. Or as the other kids called us, "Nerds."
Sure, our football team had its stars:
Jay Williams: Skills: comic book knowledge, candy
Matt Tracter: Skills: analogies, role playing games, strange
Benny Weiner: Skills: advanced algebra, spitting while talking
Gary Hinkelstein: Skills: chess, state capitals, advanced acne
Me: Skills: reading comprehension, memorizing television
getting up quickly after tripping over myself
For gym class, Mr. Chi didn't create "fair" teams. No. He did it
strictly by homerooms.
You see, this was before integration. Us dorks were kept
separate and unequal. We couldn't even use the same water
fountains as other kids (because they would hold our heads in the
water.) And we had to ride in the front of the bus near the driver
(Well, that was our choice because we were scared of the kids in the
So you had the mainstream classes with their mix of smart kids, athletic
kids, and slackers. And you had the E.G. class with our mix of smart
kids, socially retarded kids, and the completely uncoordinated.
And then there was the L.D. class. Learning Disabled. Yes, they had a
team, too. What they lacked in God-given intelligence they made
up for with experience. Because most of them were about 30 years
old. Seriously, these kids had chest hair in 4th grade. Because
in 4th grade they had driver's licenses.
Anyway, our E.G. class lost at every sport: basketball, softball,
We were the worst. Our only team that dominated was our Math
(Note: I was on the Math Team and we won Math Team
jackets. I refused to wear mine in public because it was that fake
smooth satin with huge yellow silk-screened words across the back: NY
DAILY NEWS MATH TEAM
No way I'm walking around the Bronx
in that. So my DAD decides HE'S going to proudly sport it. So now
whenever I'm out with my parents, my dad is chain smoking, with his
jeans falling off his ass,
wearing a cheesy junior high school math jacket.)
Our team didn't have strength. But we had incredibly large out-of-shape
computer dorks. YOU try to move those guys.
I'd like to say that I was the leader. But no. I was only semi-athletic.
I could catch the ball, but there was a good chance I would trip over
myself while running with it. (Though, not to brag, I did
get back up on my feet rather quickly.)
The leader was the only kid in E.G. who was fully accepted with the
mainstream kids. Because he was athletic, smart, and had touched a
He was our quarterback. He made the plays with the
help of our math teams geniuses. The invented the inverted-rhombus play!
The Pythagorean Post!
We had been winning the entire gym season. It was amazing. Now this was
We looked at that trophy, radiating in all its glory. Man, how we NEEDED
that 6 inch plastic gold statuette with the faux marble base
engraved with the word "Winner."
Winner. That's what we wanted to be so badly. Because, up to this point,
that was not exactly the word the other kids used to describe us.
If only we could execute the Trapezoidal-convergence passing play that
we talked about in class.
It all happened in SLOW-MOTION. THE TEAM LINED UP. Our Quarterback LOOKS
LEFT, LOOKS RIGHT.
The evil players on the other team are much
larger. They SNEER. Smoke shoots out of their nostrils. They grind their
They wanted to KILL us. These are the kids who knocked over our lunch
trays on purpose. The kids who played punchball at recess... with our
groins. The kids who teased and tormented us.
The RECEIVERS RUN A TRAPEZOID PATTERN. THE DEFENDERS BUMP INTO EACH
OTHER AND FALL DOWN.
It's THE WINNING TOUCHDOWN.
Mr. Chi blows the whistle! Damn Mr. Chi, why are your shorts so short?!
We won! We won! I canít believe it!
THE LOSING TEAM IS CRYING. THEY ARE SHAMED. They lost to a bunch of
losers. I mean, WINNERS!!!
Joey Rodriguez said it all: "If we donít have sports... we have
It was amazing. In the hallways, girls started looking at us. At not
just because our hair was sticking up.
I told my mom of our incredible victory. I could tell she was proud of
MOM: WHAT?!! YOU'RE PLAYING FOOTBALL! YOU'RE GONNA GET
YOURSELF KILLED! REMEMBER HOW YOU GOT HURT WHEN YOU WERE PLAYING
SHUFFLEBOARD WITH GRANDMA?!!! OH MY GOD! I'M SO WORRIED NOW!!
Okay, mom was no help. So I told dad. He was more encouraging.
DAD: Wow! You know, I was quite the athlete in my day, too.
Doubles Champion 3 years running. And just last week I bowled a 177. Did
I ever tell you about the time I tried out for the United States Olympic
Lawn Darts Team?
ME: That's great, dad.
But it didn't matter. Because we knew what we had accomplished. For the
rest of the year, it didn't matter to me when they bounced the
basketball off my head. I even smiled while taking a Whiffle ball
bat to the nuts. Okay, that was more of a grimace.
Big voice football announcer with dramatic classical music:
It was a magical season for the E.G. class of I.S. 181 in the Bronx. The
greasy hair Geeks triumphed on the grid-iron. Knowing the true meaning
of teamwork, the dorks bonded over their shared experience of social
isolation, poor sense of fashion, and intense desire to finally touch a
This was the greatest upset in American football history. A triumph of
brains over brawn. Good over evil. Suspenders over a horizontally
striped shirt? What the hell were you thinking??!!
We salute you... The New York Giant Dorks.
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