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Coach

I was curled up naked on the couch with Brian, reading the newspaper, when I saw the obituary. John Stevens, my old college football coach, had just passed away. Looking at the paper, I was reminded of a very fond memory of Coach Stevens. It was hard to believe that was almost thirty years ago, but I remembered it like it was yesterday.

Coach Stevens was a pretty terse guy. Every year it was inevitable that at least a couple of freshmen would quit the team because they couldn't stand him. He was inhuman, they said, just too cruel to enjoy the game. Most of the older guys said to stick with him, though. His viciousness came with the territory and you'd eventually come to see his good side.

I had had a rough freshman year. I didn't play much, was constantly quarrelling with my girlfriend, and had even considered transferring. When I told coach this, he sat me down and gave it to me straight. He wasn't going to guarantee me anything, but said if I stuck with him, he'd make sure he'd do all he could to help me improve and maximize my chances of playing. Coaches little talk led me to stick with it and now, nearing the end of my sophomore season, I was finally glad I did.

We had just won a close game we needed to win to advance to our conference's playoffs. I hadn't been playing much up till that point, but Coach had said he might look to use me a little if our running game got shut down. That proved to be the case as I grabbed six receptions and scored the go-ahead touchdown to pull out a nailbiter of a win.

I had gotten tied up doing an interview with the school paper after the game, so the locker room was mostly cleared out by the time I hit the showers. The shower stall was right next to Coach's office. I was the only one washing off when he leaned his head in.

"How's that hamstring feeling, Johnson?" he asked in his usual gruff tone.

"I guess it's starting to tighten a bit, Coach," I answered. "A couple days off will probably do it some good."

"Did you see McKinnery?"

McKinnery was our trainer and physical therapist. I'd mildly pulled my hamstring earlier in the season so I knew I should have made a point to see him, to have it massaged so it wouldn't tighten up too much. But I was so elated about the win I got caught up talking and it slipped my mind, and McKinnery had already gone. I told Coach this and I could see the look of irritation on his face. He spoke to me in a voice that said he shouldn't have to be speaking at all, that I should already be doing what he was saying...



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