FLASH NONFICTION
CoachLOS ANGELES 16 April 2010 |
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When I was in high school, my family was sports-centric, and although I didn’t really care about sports—at least not in the way they did—I was on the varsity tennis team; before that, I took tennis lessons. My first tennis instructor was a cocaine addict. The cartilage between his nostrils was raw and he’d constantly sniffle and press his fingers there. My second instructor reminded me of Bob Newhart, both in appearance and personality, and my ensuing crush, combined with a crippling shyness, rendered me near worthless on the tennis court. In high school, my tennis coach and I got along well. Years later, I learned that he’d been fired due to being convicted for growing marijuana at his house. There was controversy regarding how the police had obtained a search warrant, rumor being that disgruntled and influential parents were behind the bust.
My best friend’s high school varsity volleyball coach was a fanatic with an outstanding record for winning. The young women—including my friend—worshipped him. I didn’t like him, mainly because he’d taken my friend and replaced her with a zealot. The volleyball team did everything together: they ate together in the quad (they had a special diet); they wore matching clothes; they kept their hair in side-ponytails.
My friend and I argued about her coach. I told her that he was humorless, and that the only time I’d witnessed him laughing was when a spiked ball hit an opposing team member on the head—and then it was a maniacal freak laugh. She said I couldn’t understand because I wasn’t a “team player.”
My friend received a partial volleyball scholarship to college. Years later, her coach became sexually involved with one of his volleyball players, and that volleyball player got pregnant. He married her and continued to coach. His marriage ended when his former team member/wife had an affair with another of his volleyball players, and subsequently decided that she was a lesbian. He retired. My friend defends him to this day.
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Boy first it’s Catholic priests, then high school teachers and now tennis coaches. What is the world coming to? (I know the answer)
I know, huh?
All of my high school coaches were draconian females with leathery skin and perma-scowls. This eliminated the possibility of coach-student fraternization.
Except for the softball coach.
I had no female coaches. Never really thought about it before. I had one female p.e. teacher–she was great. She caught me ditching one time and just let it slide, didn’t tell on me. Just gave me a–GET IT TOGETHER–look.
Even my softball coaches were male!
Side ponytails? Hahaha
I replied to your comment–but I replied in a separate comment deal! Sorry, still not very good at this…
Yeah–it’s weird how teammates start resembling each other, on purpose and just through physical closeness. Is there a name for that phenomena? It’s like an image synchronicity, similar to when husband and wives start looking the same. Or my absolute favorite: when people look like their dogs.
No doubt. I know I sort of look like my dog. We’re a lot alike, actually. She’s black – I like to wear black. She checks her water bowl constantly – I check my email constantly. She likes bratwurst – I like bratwurst…
I don’t know if there’s a name for it, but there should be. The Twinkie Phenomenon? The Similarity Index Movement (or “SIM” for short)? Assimilation by Association?
Hm. How’s the shedding situation?
More similarities than differences, I’m afraid, although… I am proud to say that my breath is considerably better than hers.
Even with the mutual bratwurst preference?
Touche, touche.
It is here where I shall point out, however, that *my* toothpaste is not chicken flavored.
How very sad. Do you think she would mind sharing?
Poor thing. Her teeth are just about rotted out of her head, which leads me to believe that her toothpaste is not very good. I will stick to my Tom’s spearmint, thank you very much.
Victoria, I don’t know how to explain it, but I just looked in the mirror and my hair has spontaneously gathered into a side ponytail. I can’t explain it.
Erika, in your honor, I vow to wear my hair in a side ponytail for the rest of the day.
Uhm, that didn’t last long. Took down the ponytail after this comment from my 9 year-old son: “Mom, please. That looks really weird. What are you doing?”
HAHAHA
lol!!
I’m gonna put on a side ponytail wig!
Dare you to wear it to the nearest bar and order a pear cider!
Why you always gotta call me on my lies? I dare you to fly your ass out to Bakersfield, kidnap me, take me back to Colorado, and help your family dig the next fake “Bigfoot lives here” cave.
I had a semi-reverse situation.
Back in 1980, Buffalo State wanted to start women’s track, but had no coach. They asked me, an anthropology professor, to be the coach for the first “club” year. I had never coached before, but I agreed. If it worked out, the college would give the program varsity status and hire a real coach for the next season.
I only had one miler and it was clear she had a crush on me. I kept my distance. Our final meet was one I thought we could win — it would be our only win.
The miler wanted some extra training/sharpening before that meet. The Saturday before the meet, I did it for, or actually with, her (at the time, I was a faster miler than she was). As we were leaving the track, she made what I understood as a move on me. I slid away.
She didn’t show at the last meet. We lost by fewer points than we’d have gotten had she run the mile.
I had no intention of continuing, so it didn’t hurt my coaching career, which, as planned, ended with that meet. But it did hurt my women, hungry for that win. It made me realize how fraught the coach/athlete thing can be.
The college considered the season a success anyway, and went ahead to and hired a real coach and started a varsity women’s track program.
Yes, I agree. That coach/athlete thing can be complicated and fraught. There’s a terrific short story about a coach/athlete relationship called “Life Expectancy” by Holly Goddard Jones. It’s in her book Girl Trouble. I thought it really portrayed the complications and the physicality of the relationship well.
I’ve ordered “Girl Trouble.” It looks very good.
I see that the stories are set in Kentucky. I’ll use that to hook to a book I read not long ago, “The New Valley,” by Josh Weil, three novellas set in the Appalachian part of VA. Ann Pancake turned me on to it. They are wonderful pieces, with the center one, “Stillman Wing,” being exceptional.
I think I just replied to your comment with a new comment! Sorry about that. I can’t seem to get used to this responding deal.
I read “The New Valley” and enjoyed it very much! I might have to read “Stillman Wing” again! I think you’ll like Girl Trouble. I was impressed..
Thanks to Amazon Prime, I can start reading it (GT) Wednesday.
What I liked so much about Stillman Wing was the way Weil handled time perception.
I mentioned Ann Pancake and now I’ll do it again — if you’re interested in Appalachian writing, but don’t know her work, you might want to look at her novel “Strange As This Weather Has Been,” or her collection “Given Ground.”
I’ve heard of Ann Pancake–but I haven’t read her yet. I’ll definitely check out her work. Thanks for the recommendations!
Wow, who knew volleyball was that exciting? On a side note, I’m relieved to know I wasn’t the only girl with a crush on Bob Newhart…
That’s very funny. It must be a writer-thing?
I like to think we’re just classy broads who early in life demonstrated excellent taste with our preference for older male comedians.
“and that the only time I’d witnessed him laughing was when a spiked ball hit an opposing team member on the head—and then it was a maniacal freak laugh”
And suddenly, the picture I have in my head is completely and totally fleshed out…
He was a piece of work, that’s fer sure…
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