Good Coach or Bad Coach? | Teen Ink

Good Coach or Bad Coach?

May 18, 2015
By amcv619 BRONZE, Dover, Massachusetts
amcv619 BRONZE, Dover, Massachusetts
1 article 0 photos 0 comments

I can hear the crowd cheering as I race by; I’m almost there and then it happens. A girl on the other team comes and sweeps me off my feet. Of course they say it was an accident, that’s how soccer referees are, always calling bad shots. I try to get up, but it hurts worse than any pain imaginable. I don't remember so it may or may not be true, (probably not), but my best friend, Kate, told me I was crying so hard it sounded like I was dying. My coach and the referee come over and help me up. My mom then drives me to the hospital and I have to miss my team lose against those cheaters; of course I don't mind all that much. When we get to the hospital they tell me I broke my leg in two places and that I am out of soccer for the rest of the season, which stinks...a lot. This means I won't have a place on the Varsity team next year. I have crutches and a grey plastic cast that I have to wear for six weeks. It isn’t the worst thing in the world but it could be better. It’s not like soccer is my life or anything. I also enjoy other things too, it’s just that it’s a very big part.
My brother, Shawn, has always been the big athlete of the family. He plays three different sports. He’s six feet tall and is all muscle. He has very light brown hair and blue eyes. Everyone expects me to be just like him and I try to be, but it’s not that easy. I'm so committed to trying to be as good as him I usually skip homework to practice. Which is probably why he's also better at school than I am. Since I’m a Junior I'm going to be applying to college soon and everyone keeps telling me the only way I'll get in is if I get a soccer scholarship. Now I can throw all of that out the window; with the time off and recovery I won’t be ready when the scouts come. If I'm really lucky I can pull my grades up just enough to get an okay GPA.
I try to talk my way out of going to school on Monday, but my parents won’t hear of it. They tell me, “You’re making this into something it’s not, they won’t hate you they'll understand that it was the other girl’s fault.” That’s easy for them to say they’re old, they don't remember what high school is like.
As usual, I’m right. I get to school and all I get is dirty looks, but I can handle it, until Jessica comes up to me. There are only three Juniors on the soccer team: me, Kate, and Jessica. Kate and I don’t like Jessica, but it’s fine because she doesn't like us either. She usually hangs out with the Seniors because apparently having big brown eyes and long brown hair is pretty. I think that’s the only reason they hang out with her, or in other words allow her to hang out with them. It used to be the complete opposite; in middle school Jessica and I were best friends and Kate was the outcast. I don't know what I was thinking. Jessica and I have all the same classes this year for her to torture me all day. In math she is oddly nice to me. Before I can say anything she flips her hair in my face.
“The whole team is so sad that you can't play for the rest of the season. I know it will take me a while to get over it.” she says with a smirk.
“What are you planning? It’s not like I won’t be back next season, and I’ll still be better than you.” I say with a scowl.
“We’ll see about that. Coach might finally realize that I’m the best and put me as captain. You never know, he might even decide you’re not good enough for the Varsity team at all.” She turns away from me like she won the battle.
“Only in your dreams would that ever happen.” I snap back at her. Would it? I think to myself. Is she right, could all those things happen. I assure myself that they won’t because she’s even dumber than me.
The next morning I decide I will block out anyone (such as Jessica) who decides to try to knock me down with those pathetic attempts of insults. Who am I kidding, even I know I don't have that much confidence. I take a quick look at myself in the mirror before I leave for school and what I see is horrible and pathetic. I see a five foot seven girl with light brown hair and emerald eyes. This girl used to be a jock, she used to have everyone like her, she usen’t to have a cast on her leg and she used to have more confidence in herself. I used to think that since I played a sport I would be fit and never hurt myself. Well this definitely brought me down a few pegs. It kind of puts the whole world in perspective. It shows me that anything can knock me down at anytime whether I’m prepared for it or not. That statement doesn’t help either, so I throw my bag over my shoulder and go to school.
In English I am called down to the gym to have a meeting with the Varsity coach, who is probably going to tell me to get better grades. Coach’s real name is Eugene, but it doesn’t work for him at all so everyone just calls him Coach. He’s basically one of those stereotypical coaches. He is around six foot with grey hair, always wears a baseball cap and chews gum whenever he can. He isn’t cruel or mean, and he treats us as equals so most people like him. He told us to come to him at any time that we have a problem. I’ve never taken him up on the offer but I guess he’s making that decision for me. I walk in and sit down. He’s sitting across from me and staring at me. It’s not one of those creepy stares, but one of those stares where it looks like he's trying to figure you out. He does that a lot, look at us as if he is trying to figure us out. Some people think he’s being a creep, but I don’t. Then again I don't know why he does it either.
“ Okay. Stapleton what do you need?” he asks after a while.
“ I thought you needed me?” I ask.
“ In a way you need me,” Coach says looking me dead in the eye and continues, “ I know that you're not very good at school and that the team was the only way you can get into a good college.”
“ Hate to break it to you Coach, but everyone knows that.”
“ I’m being serious here. Are you planning to try out next season because if-”
“ Wait what do you mean if I’m planning to try out? All Juniors on Varsity are guaranteed a spot next year and especially the Captain.” I say.
“ Yes thats true, but you have to understand that the Junior Varsity team is getting pretty good and they will be trying out. I can't have someone on the team or as Captain that can’t even make a single goal, Bridget.”
“That’s not fair! That girl was twice my size!” I scream, “ You can't blame me for her being too aggressive! So either you give me a spot on the team or else I’ll bring this up with the school committee!”
“And say what? That I won’t let you play because you may or may not be ready? Or could it be that you should get special treatment because it ‘wasn’t your fault’? You won't win, Bridget.” Okay, I admit I probably wouldn’t win but I couldn’t back down now. So I keep going.
“ I will win and make sure of it or-”
“ Listen, I never said you weren’t going to be part of the team, all I said was you have to try out to play. You still have some sort of spot on the team next year, you just won’t be playing.”
“ What do you mean, that I’ll be the water girl?”
“ No-”
BRRRRING BRRRRING! The bell rings, which means he has a class. So he tells me to come back tomorrow morning. I’m not sure if I want to after the way he treated me. He is acting different. I don’t have time to figure it out, all I know is that I don’t like it.
I have study hall next and I am not in the mood to do anything so I go to the nurse. Since I have a car usually I would be able to drive home but since my leg is broken I can’t. So I have to drive home with my brother and go to school on the bus. I tell the nurse I have an awful headache so she lets me lie down until school let out.
When I walk in the door my mom is sitting on a stool glaring at me.
“ Do you have anything you want to tell me Bridget?” she asks still glaring with her arms crossed and her short blonde hair tied back. She always does this when she gets mad. For some reason she thinks it makes her look scary. Don’t get me wrong it does, but the first time she did it, Shawn, Dad and I all made a pact to never let her know because then she would go mad with power.
“ Ummmm…no. I went to the nurse today because I had a bad headache that’s all” I say trying not to mention the whole Coach thing.
“ Really nothing happened during english? Like Coach calling you down and you screaming at him like there’s no tomorrow!” She says now standing which is less intimidating because Mom is only 5’ 5”.
“ How did you know about that, and by the way he was the one who was being completely unfair!” I say a little louder than I intend.
“ Well he told me that you screamed at him. Yes he may TREAT you as an equal but you are not AN equal. You got that?”
“But mom-”
“Do not ‘but mom’ me missy. You WILL go to that meeting tomorrow morning and you WILL apologize. You WILL also take any spot he gives you on that team because you need it. Do I make myself clear?”
“ But I only yelled because-”
“ I said do I make myself clear!”
“ Yes”
“ Now go to your room!”
I’ve never seen her so mad before. Sure, me and Shawn have gotten the old “shut up” or “enough, I’ve had enough”, but never like that. I swear I can see steam coming out of her ears but I am not about to tell her that. So I go upstairs and wait for Dad to come home. My dad is the boss of the house, although my mom doesn’t see it that way. He stands at 6 feet with brown hair like me and blue eyes like Shawn. It’s an hour till Dad comes home, so I do my homework, but only barely because I am still stuck on everything that happened today. I think people are taking this thing a bit too seriously. Where are the people that said I was being over dramatic about it? The roles have switched and it was not in my favor.
I hear the garage door slam, which means Dad is home and not happy. I just hope Mom didn’t over exagger-
“ Bridget get down here now!” Dad yells, in what I hope is his fake angry voice. I’m not totally convinced he is faking because both real and fake angry voices sound the same for him so I’m just taking a guess.
“ Yeah Dad, what is it?” I ask coming down the stairs although I already knew what it was.
“Your mom called me and told me what happened today.” Dad says.
“ Okay, so I went to the nurse. Why is everyone getting so caught up on that? I mean sure I usually don’t. So you might be worried, but it’s okay your favorite child is still alive and kicking.” I joke. Which my mom doesn’t find very funny but my dad is trying not to laugh.
“ Ah-hem,”clearing his throat swallowing the laugh, “ This is serious. Why on earth would you ever scream at your coach?” Dad asks turning sort of stern again.
“ You weren’t there dad, he was the one who started it. He started saying about how I might not have a spot on the team next year and how even if I am on the team I may not be captain and how it was my fault for missing that goal and how that team is the only way I’m getting into a good college….and….and….” I say on the verge of crying.
“ That’s not what he said on the phone.” Mom says a little less stern than how she portrayed early on.
“ Are you telling us the truth Bridget because if you are I will “talk” to that coach myself and make him see whose fault it really was.” Dad says with closed fists. What was happening? First they were being too dramatic about my injury and now they are being too dramatic about this.
“ No, dad it’s fine I have just been having a really bad day.” I say as I go upstairs...slowly but surely. I finish my homework and go to bed without dinner. I need to be alone until that meeting tomorrow so I won’t try to bite his head off or at least want to.
When I go downstairs to have breakfast the whole atmosphere has changed. The kitchen was bright which rarely ever happens because just outside the window there is a big oak tree that usually blocks the light. The sun is shining in on our breakfast table making the sugar on my frosted flakes glisten. No one is up which is weird, but it’s Wednesday. So Shawn is probably at his before school practices that happen every Wednesday. I usually don’t see my dad in the morning because the office is usually very busy. So that just leaves me and my mom. Mom is usually up by now and sitting drinking her morning coffee in her baby pink bath robe and her favorite slippers with her glasses perched at the end of her nose reading today’s headlines in the newspaper. Today she’s not there which is probably why it’s so peaceful. I decide not to think too much about it. I find a note under my spoon that says:

Had to go do some things before the mall got to busy. See you later. Have a great day!
Love,
Mom
Well that solves that problem.
As I walk into school I’m greeted by Kate “Hey. Do you want me to walk you there so you don’t punch someone in the face on the way?” she asks sarcastically.
“ Walk me where?” I say with a smile.
“ The meeting with Eugene, I’m calling him that now because he’s making me mad so he deserves to be called that ridiculous name of his.”
“ Oh right, thanks for the reminder” I say flatly.
“ No problem” Kate says in her peppy voice. Kate is the kind of person that is always smiling, but no one cares. In fact she gets a compliment on her smile everyday. She is around the same height as me with long blonde hair and hazel eyes. She’s one of those girls who is a jock, but also a girly girl at the same time which is a deadly combination yet somehow she makes it work.
“ I didn’t mean it like that.”
“ I know but I was trying to be polite and a nice person, but seriously what are you going to do about the meeting?” She asks and for the first time in probably forever she is serious and a bit stern.
“ I don’t care anymore he can put me on the team or take me off all I know is everyone, even you, is taking this thing way too seriously.”
“ I’m not worried on whether or not he puts you on the team, I’m worried that you won’t try to argue your way in.”
“ Oh don’t worry about that. I said I don’t care what he does, I never said I wasn’t going to fight my way in.” I say with a  smirk which then puts a huge smile back on Kate’s face.
I then walk the long hallway either leading me back to my regular life or to my doom. Which ever one it is, I am ready for it. I’m not angry anymore, I am ( I hate to admit it) scared of what was going to happen to me if I don’t make the team, it is too late to bring my grades up. My whole life revolves around soccer and me being the best at it, but how can I be the best on Junior Varsity? Its simple, I can’t. I know I said my life isn’t revolved around soccer but it really is. As I am walking I bump into Jessica, who glares at me. She will not stop until she gets what she wants. I wonder what she will do in her spare time instead of making my life horrible when I’m off the team.
I walk up to Coach’s office, take a deep breath, and walk in. There he is in his same baseball cap, and his gum smacking around in his mouth. While I’m sitting down I glare at him. I’m waiting for him to finish what he was saying but instead he just looks at me like he always did, but he doesn’t talk this time. I then realize someone is sitting next to me and glaring at me with their arms crossed and blonde short hair pulled back. I start to sweat because if she saw everything that just happened she would take Coach’s side. It was just my luck because it was her and she did see everything that just happened.
“ What’s the matter there Bridget, you forgotten who your mom is?” Coach asks with a little chuckle.
“ Hello Bridget. How are you today, because I was feeling pretty good until I saw my daughter not giving her own coach the respect that he deserves.” My mom says still glaring at me.
“ Mom why are you here? I’m old enough to deal with this myself and I-”
“ It doesn’t matter why I’m here. Now, I want you to apologize.” She says once again cutting me off because that is what she loves to do.
“ I’m sorry Coach I handled that situation poorly.” I say to him and then turn to Mom and gave her the ‘are you happy now look’ which she returns with ‘ very’.
“ It’s alright champ everybody makes mistakes.” Coach says with a smile. Champ? Who is this person, I mean this is the coach I know, but what about the one who was talking to me yesterday? The one who blamed me for missing that goal? The one who was mean and rude, where is he? I’m not complaining about it or anything, but come on he’s making me look like the bad guy. Maybe not, maybe he was just having a bad day and I just happened to be the one in his way. Then again teachers are suppose to be professional and put their problems aside when they are talking to students.
“ See Bridget I knew you were reading too deep into this.” Mom says with a plastered smile across her face. Now I get it. She probably came in before, explained why I was upset and he covered it up by me being too emotional.
“ I guess that could have happened right coach? I mean it’s not like you would ever frame a student for being upset about something you did, because I know if I did that I would feel so much guilt. So of course I read the situation wrong. I’m the one who should be sorry and feel guilty. Right coach?” I say not taking my eyes off of Coach the entire time. I then turn to my mom and say “ Wait ,mom don’t you have a doctors appointment today?”
“ Oh gosh, yes I do I should get going. Thank you for letting us clear this all up Eugine.” She says exiting the room.
“ I hate when people call me that.” Coach mutters under his breath while snapping a pencil.
“ So tell me what you really want to tell me now that she’s gone.” I snap at him.
“ Okay, listen Stapleton. I was only being mister nice guy for your mother. Now I’ll give you a choice just because I’m that nice.” He says with a fake smile.
“ What if I don’t want to do any of them?”
“ Well that’s your decision. So do you want to hear them or not?”
I sigh and say, “ Okay, give them to me.”
“ Okay let’s start with number one, you can walk out this door right now and never look back. Number two, you can let this season end for you, accept it and try out next year. Lastly, you can take the job I’m going to offer you, which will guarantee you a spot on varsity but it won’t guarantee playing time. So now the choice is yours. What will it be?”  He says leaning back in his chair.
After a minute or two of thinking I lean forward with my elbows on my knees, look him in the eye and ask “ What’s the job?”



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