When I was in high school, we had a football coach whose young son was wheelchair-bound. On Thursdays, the son would come to our walk-throughs and eat with us after practice. He was a pretty cool kid.

Coach drove an older side-loaded wheelchair accessible van. On one particular Thursday night, there was something going on at the school, so the parking lot was full, and all of the handicap spots at adjacent to our field were full. Five or six of us were just kind of dicking around waiting to gear-up when we noticed that Coach was circling looking for a spot to park.

We saw that one of the handicap spots had a late-90s Escort parked there, with a student parking permit and no handicap sticker. So we flagged down Coach, then we picked the rear of the Escort up and slid/ dragged it between the two handicap parking signs. There was maybe a foot on either side between the bumpers and poured concrete pillars.

Coach was able to back in, park, and unload his kid, and we all went to put on our pads, sniggering like dumb high school football players. About an hour into the walkthrough, a cop walks onto our field and asks for help to move a car. The owner had apparently walked out of whatever he was doing and decided the best course of action was to call the police. The officer found the situation amusing, but not amusing enough to refrain from writing the kid a ticket for parking in a handicap spot.

The perpetrators (those of us who moved the car) were ‘punished’ by having to do 100 yard running up-downs (and thus losing our place in line for food), but Coach ran it with us and it was probably the most satisfied I’ve ever felt with a physical punishment. 

On a similar note, that episode was probably the most practical application of dead-lifts I’ve had in my life.