Summary

The text recounts a high school football coach's unconventional method of teaching his team about toughness and resilience, using an incident with his young son to illustrate his point.

Abstract

The narrative focuses on a high school football coach known for his tough demeanor and colorful language, who, after a disappointing loss, uses a personal moment with his son to teach his players a lesson about manliness and perseverance. Despite his harsh criticism, the coach's influence on his players is profound, fostering a deep respect and love for him. The story highlights the complex role of athletic coaches in shaping the character of young athletes, emphasizing that their impact extends beyond the playing field into broader life lessons.

Opinions

The coach's influence on his players is significant, affecting their attitudes and outlook on life.
The coach is perceived as physically tough and emanates an unyielding attitude, which he aims to instill in his team.
The coach's language is direct and harsh, but his actions reveal a nuanced approach to mentorship.
The players have a strong affection for the coach, despite his gruff exterior and demanding coaching style.
The coach uses a surprising and humorous incident involving his son to convey a serious message about toughness and identity.
The coach's reaction to his son's nail polish suggests a flexible and pragmatic approach to parenting and coaching, despite his outwardly rigid expectations.

Inspirational Athletic Coaches

Coach was the toughest, most out of shape 50 year old I ever saw.

#51 Real Estate Man

More than most people in a position to be influential in your child’s character formation are athletic coaches.

Good, bad or indifferent, your kid’s coach usually has, at least, some influence on your child’s outlook on life issues far more than just competition on the athletic fields.

This little yarn is not going to solve the larger discussion of forces exercised and received, conscientiously or unconsciencely by your child. It’s just one story of many that I remember about my high school football coach who yelled, cursed and berated his team on a daily basis year round .

And I loved him.

Real Estate Man’s story:

Coach was, possibly, physically the toughest, out of shape 50 year old I ever saw. Although he wasn’t imposing in stature, he had an energy about him that emanated “I back down from no one.” If he had one goal, even more than winning, it was inculcating that attitude in his players.

Coach usually brought his 5 year son to our high school football practices. The kid was a miniature knock off of his father. Stocky lil fella, use to run around the practice field while the team was slaving away: blocking and tackling, 1 on 1 drills, killer wind sprints — you get the picture.

We had lost our last game played the night before to a winless rival we were favored to beat. The team was gathered around the coach listening his “corrective criticism.”

Coach (in an elevated voice): “Chickenshit mother fuckers , you guys stink (this was before suck became the go-to word to insert there). You’re a bunch of pussies!”

After Coach went on like this for 5 or 10 more minutes he would calm down. Anger at his team for “backing down” having been vented he would often soften a bit.

Coach (in a normal voice): “I still think you’re all a bunch of pussies. You want to see a real MAN,” Coach questioned?

Before we had a chance to answer.

Coach (still inside the huddle of players shouts at his son, who’s occupying himself whacking one of the goal posts at the other end of the field with his elbow):”SON, GET OVER HERE!”

Coach Jr. looks up, his 5 year old’s attention now on his father and the group of players surrounding him. He starts to run the length of the field toward us, his little piston legs pumping as fast as the wings on a hummingbird.

He physically pushes his way into the huddle of adolescent football playing boys and looks up at his father.

Coach Jr. (joyfully excited): “DADDY, DADDY LOOK!” Jr. holds up his 2 hands, gleefully showing his father all of his fingernails which are meticulously painted with pink nail polish. Each and every one of them, pink.

Coach (seemingly unperturbed but with a quizzical look on his face):? “What’s this shit kid?”

Coach Jr. (still enthusiastic): “MOMMY DID IT, DADDY!”

Coach (seemingly not affected by this unexpected turn of events): “Go in the locker room and wash that shit off kid.”

Coach didn’t miss a beat. As his son was running into the locker room he looked around at us, smiled and said “You ladies use the red polish tonight.”

We loved that guy.