The Pole Shift

British Bulldogs

Six teachers including Mr Knowles stood in the middle of the asphalt tennis court, their faces serious, aghast at what they were doing. As the thirty four students, ranging in age from twelve to fifteen lined up on one side, expressions changed. The children goaded the teachers.

                "Too old to catch us."

                "Too fat!" Laughter.

                 Mr. Knowles pointed at one of the heaviest kids, he spoke loudly:

                "You first! You have always been stupid and a failure as a student. You would have continued to fail into adulthood. You first." There was sudden silence, the game had begun. The boy was shaking, he looked for support, even sympathy,  but no one let him catch eyes.  The teachers spread out and spanned the width of the tennis court, the boy took a few faltering steps and Mr. Knowles boomed, "you gormless, fat,  four eyed, knock kneed prick of a student." The boy ran hard with a shout, he did not dodge but tried to tank. The teachers converged, hoisted him up and shouted 'British Bulldogs' in unison. The boy fell to the ground, then stood up as a bulldog himself.  He looked back at his once companions with something akin to hate.

                The teachers comforted the kid by telling him he could chose next. His eyes immediately went to Jimmy, but then slid away, instead he went for his best friend yelling:

                "I chose Michael!" Michael nearly vomited, then yelled:

                "Why, why would you chose me? You're my best friend!" The newest of the bulldogs did not reply. Michael paused for a moment, he began to turn away with a wail but then pegged forward at an alarming rate. He ran straight for his fat friend, then pivoted right and got past him, Miss Wright snatched at an arm but the boy slipped through to the far side of the court. Safe. Mr Knowles said:

                "Make a formation, cover any penetration." The seven bulldogs made a rough V.  The fat boy turned to his friend, and said:

                "Sorry Michael, I thought you would have more chance with less bulldogs." Michael thought, then nodded slowly. Miss Wright shouted:

                "You! The ranga girl. No need for your type in the New World. Your next."  The striking girl, no more than thirteen, looked at her feet. Then she trotted a few steps towards centre court. She looked at them all, shifting weight on legs. She darted to the far left  but coved only a meter forward , trying to draw the right side of the bulldogs across in which succeeded. With electric speed, the copper haired teenager wheeled to the right, out flanked Mr. Jobling the French teacher and got to the other side. The kids cheered, and Mr Knowles ordered the fastest of them to the flanks. He shouted:

                "One more choice of ours, then you may all run at will," he looked to the Maths teacher, "who do you chose Mr Leech?" The Middle-aged man looked like he had a grudge against all the kids, finally he said:

                "Daniel, why don't you have a go." The most athletic of the boys head shot up with a smile. He cracked his neck and touched his toes, fair locks fell across his face.

                "Glad to." He shouted back. He strolled directly to the maths teacher, so slowly the bulldogs were caught in two minds. Suddenly, Daniel bolted, he corrected his stride with a crow hop at the last moment, then delivered an all mighty right hook to Mr Leech. The blow found the shocked teachers jaw and put him on his behind. Daniel fended off Mr Jobling, and trotted to the far side, arms raised. The kids were slow to cheer, shocked it seemed. Mr Knowles said slowly, as if he were an old gunslinger:

                "So that's your game ,we'll alright then." No sooner had he spoke than the whole group of students made a run for the other side. People got in each other's way, fists flew. Initially the teachers were too confused to deploy a strategy, as if a school of fish had swirled by them, but one boy fell and was pounced on, another's arm was grabbed by Miss Wright, the boy was flung around as if she was putting out sheets to dry, then hoisted into the air with womanly strength.

                Jimmy flanked Helen, they both ducked arms, and Helen left a three nailed gash on Mrs Geurdy's cheek, the Music teacher not at all home on the tennis court.  Three students were caught, two boys and a girl. The caught students contemplated their future for only a moment, before they lifted their heads. The game had roused deep animal instinct, and they were all living in the very moment.

                The bulldogs numbered ten. They formed a tighter group, with Mr Knowles dropping to the base line of the now far side.  The old teacher was aflame, his grey hair ruffled, his complexion ruddy. He shouted:

                 "One more choice by the bulldogs, then it's a free for all." He paused then yelled. "Jimmy."