After spending three years searching for the world's dumbest sports for my new book "Sports from Hell," I realized I missed some very, very stupid ones.
You very bizarre people proved that by sending in 140 exceedingly brainless ones as part of our contest: Send Us Your Stupid Sports. Most of them involved new and inventive ways to turn your liver into a Rain Bird sprinkler.
But these three had an exceeding quality of idiocy and yet still were woven into the fabric of sport, which is why I love them so and why all three of you will be getting a signed copy of "Sports from Hell," assuming you didn't screw up your e-mail addresses, which is highly possible.
In an effort to experience the thrill of Roman gladiatorial games, my friends and I developed a Sharpie gladiator tournament. Stripped to their shorts and armed with two burrito-sized permanent markers apiece, competitors would do battle for a minute. Whoever had the least Sharpie on his body after the minute was the victor. Unfortunately, this event destroyed the apartment we hosted it in, punctuated by me being arm-barred through a window by an opponent who outweighed me by 150 pounds. Also unfortunate was the tendency of the felt-tip to get mashed back into the plastic part of the marker. In the heat of the moment, no one would notice this, and most of us still have scars from lacerations caused by the damaged markers.
-- Nate Brooks (Atascadero, Calif.)
Nate, when this becomes a Rusty Crowe blockbuster and you're at the Oscar party, hammered, and want him to sign one of your scars, make sure he does it with one of the historic Sharpies. Then we'll send it to the Smithsonian.
Me and my friends from college played a game we liked to call Ouch! To play Ouch! you need a yellow plastic Wiffle ball, and a bat with all the rules written on it. The rules are, at any time any day, one person can take the bat and crack you one anyplace but the jewels and the face. At the time of the hit, the victim has two reactions: If he says "Ouch!" he gets no rebuttal on the perpetrator. If however, he does not say "Ouch!" he gets a free hit on the guy who hit him, picking ANY body part minus the face. It's a 24/7 game where technically nobody wins, you just have to try to eliminate ouch or anything of the sort from your vocabulary. Even if you win one round, surely enough the next day, you'll step out of the bathroom after your morning shower and CRACK! Right across your chest comes that bat, you never even saw it coming, he was hiding behind the door frame!
-- William Donahue (Chicago, Ill.)
The sheer male anvil-brained idiocy of this competition is what makes it great. One can see the gods on Olympus doing this on slow days. Who knew a guy's entire body could be within the strike zone? And the beauty of it is the very rules of the game prohibit it being passed on to your sons!
Growing up in Iowa, we played this game of driver vs. passenger where we would drive down the road and yell "Hey Cow" out the window at any animal on your side of the road. If it was a cow, one point for each head that turned towards the sound. Horses are a bit smarter so you get five points. Ten points for a farmer. Minus one for each sheep. They're dumb. If one turns its head, they all do. Lots of fun to play when I brought home city kids on break during college. We definitely look like fools when playing.
-- Jason Gardner (Indianapolis, Ind.)
How many points for a Hawkeyes fan?