The Nailing Rules
When my kids were growing up, one of the games we played every summer was badminton. It was an easy way to get them out of the house and the sets were cheap and ubiquitous. When play first started it was all the oldest kid could do to even make contact with a slowly descending shuttle cock. However, doing my very best, I could sort of aim for his racket. If I heard even the faintest ping from his strings it was a sign of tremendous prowess and it deserved much praise. Yay! Let's get Roger Federer a juice box.
Over the years their skills improved to the point that we could almost have a game. Not a REAL game, but a let's-see-how-many-times-we-can-hit-it-over-the-net-bullshit kind of a game. This required dad to be able to lob those birdies with a draftsman's accuracy. If I could maintain a parabola as smooth as the arc of protractor I could expect a return. That was good! Ok, boring, but at least we were headed in the right direction.
Finally, the first son became old enough to put up a fight. When the boys ages were 14, 10, and 6 we didn't have to patty cake it as much any more. Sure, there were still PLENTY of lobs, but when there was a juicy shot that seemed to just be hovering over the net, I would take the opportunity to spike it. Hell, I had been waiting years for this, so why not? There were of course protests, but that was just tough.
One day one of my slams hit Ryan.
Ryan: That's not fair!
Me: Yes it is.
Ryan: You can't do that!
Me: I just did. As a matter of fact there is a rule in badminton that if you hit the other player with the shuttlecock you get an EXTRA point.
Ryan: You just made that up!
Me: Nope. It's a rule. It helps weed out the losers.
Play resumed.
The teams that day were Ryan, Corey, and Collin on one side and me the other. The new rules added a dimension to the game that made it fun for the first time in years. Ok, fun for the first time ever. After that my returns of serve rained down on the boys like pieces of hot shrapnel. Then one of my slams hit Collin in the eye. He crumpled like he was stuck by an sniper's bullet. Then he just laid on the ground whimpering. The rest of us stood there waiting for him come around. After about 10 seconds I went over and picked up the birdie and told his brothers to just try to play around him.
Play resumed.
Collin decided that the indignity of the continued play was far worse than his "injury". He stood up and holding arms straight down with two clenched fist yelled: "HEYYYY! I! GOT! HIT! And you don't care if I was hurt, or feel sorry for me, or ANYTHING!!" As soon as he stomped off to find his mom, his brothers and I cracked up.
Play resumed.
Seconds later the storm door was almost ripped off its hinges when mom comes raging out like a PMSing T-Rex. She yelled at me, Ryan, and Corey. I wasn't really listening to what she said, but I'm sure it had to do with Collin being wittle bitty. We waited for her to finish. Then she left with Collin so he could get an ice cream served with sprinkles of sympathy.
Play resumed.
It was then that the International Nailing Rules of Badminton were codified.
A body nailing was worth one extra point. This included a hit to the foot or even a slight graze. It was discussed if a hit to a cowering player should be worth more, because if you were going to be a big sissy you ought to be penalized. It was decided that because of the size of a cowering target, a hit was still just worth a point.
A nail to the head was worth an extra two points. This included head, neck, ear, or even like Collin experienced, a hit to the eye. I mean come on, the least you can do is get your damn head out of the way. So a head nailing was 2 points.
Finally, the grand slam of points was when you got nailed in your junk. You know, a nail to the crotch, balls, testicles, nuts, what have you, that was worth FIVE extra points and was subsequently the winning shot of many games.
We called that one "the genitalia nailya".
We started to love badminton.
Over the years their skills improved to the point that we could almost have a game. Not a REAL game, but a let's-see-how-many-times-we-can-hit-it-over-the-net-bullshit kind of a game. This required dad to be able to lob those birdies with a draftsman's accuracy. If I could maintain a parabola as smooth as the arc of protractor I could expect a return. That was good! Ok, boring, but at least we were headed in the right direction.
Finally, the first son became old enough to put up a fight. When the boys ages were 14, 10, and 6 we didn't have to patty cake it as much any more. Sure, there were still PLENTY of lobs, but when there was a juicy shot that seemed to just be hovering over the net, I would take the opportunity to spike it. Hell, I had been waiting years for this, so why not? There were of course protests, but that was just tough.
One day one of my slams hit Ryan.
Ryan: That's not fair!
Me: Yes it is.
Ryan: You can't do that!
Me: I just did. As a matter of fact there is a rule in badminton that if you hit the other player with the shuttlecock you get an EXTRA point.
Ryan: You just made that up!
Me: Nope. It's a rule. It helps weed out the losers.
Play resumed.
The teams that day were Ryan, Corey, and Collin on one side and me the other. The new rules added a dimension to the game that made it fun for the first time in years. Ok, fun for the first time ever. After that my returns of serve rained down on the boys like pieces of hot shrapnel. Then one of my slams hit Collin in the eye. He crumpled like he was stuck by an sniper's bullet. Then he just laid on the ground whimpering. The rest of us stood there waiting for him come around. After about 10 seconds I went over and picked up the birdie and told his brothers to just try to play around him.
Play resumed.
Collin decided that the indignity of the continued play was far worse than his "injury". He stood up and holding arms straight down with two clenched fist yelled: "HEYYYY! I! GOT! HIT! And you don't care if I was hurt, or feel sorry for me, or ANYTHING!!" As soon as he stomped off to find his mom, his brothers and I cracked up.
Play resumed.
 |
| Collin's description to his mom. |
Seconds later the storm door was almost ripped off its hinges when mom comes raging out like a PMSing T-Rex. She yelled at me, Ryan, and Corey. I wasn't really listening to what she said, but I'm sure it had to do with Collin being wittle bitty. We waited for her to finish. Then she left with Collin so he could get an ice cream served with sprinkles of sympathy.
Play resumed.
It was then that the International Nailing Rules of Badminton were codified.
 |
| Step 1: Get your head out of the way. |
A body nailing was worth one extra point. This included a hit to the foot or even a slight graze. It was discussed if a hit to a cowering player should be worth more, because if you were going to be a big sissy you ought to be penalized. It was decided that because of the size of a cowering target, a hit was still just worth a point.
A nail to the head was worth an extra two points. This included head, neck, ear, or even like Collin experienced, a hit to the eye. I mean come on, the least you can do is get your damn head out of the way. So a head nailing was 2 points.
Finally, the grand slam of points was when you got nailed in your junk. You know, a nail to the crotch, balls, testicles, nuts, what have you, that was worth FIVE extra points and was subsequently the winning shot of many games.
We called that one "the genitalia nailya".
We started to love badminton.
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