Panting and sweaty, I slowly made my way off of the football field over to the sidelines. Our coach was yelling whatever bullshit he usually does when we finish our practice. Today in particular the air was heavy as we had one of the biggest games of the season tomorrow, and things weren’t looking good for us.
“MATTHEWS”, he bellowed, I looked up, his eyes piercing directly into mine.
“WHAT THE FUCK are you THINKING BOY?! If you play like that tomorrow, you can kiss your spot on the team goodbye, and say hello to a spot on the bench!”
God I’m so sick of his shit. On any other day this is just normal coach BS, but he’s been so hard on me lately and it makes almost no sense. I was about ready to break. Actually no, I AM going to break. I was just gonna keep on walking past him but when I stepped close to him I pointed my finger straight into his face and said,
“Well if it’s so easy to just play better why don’t you get out there and play?! … Oh wait,” I pointed at his stomach, hanging over his belt with his shirt tucked in. “Maybe we have to play so hard because you’re not pulling your weight and actually giving us some solid coaching!”
I didn’t bother looking at his reaction, I knew it wasn’t pretty. I had already stormed off the field, heading home for the day. What the FUCK was up with him. I could do a way better job of coaching this goddamn team.
I was fuming so much when I got home that I just walked straight by my parents and slammed my door shut. I furiously disrobed and got into bed, taking almost an hour for sleep to take me as my thoughts swirled at a million miles and hour.
When I woke up the next morning, something didn’t feel … right. First of all, I wasn’t in my room. My room wasn’t white, also my bed not this large. I rubbed my forehead, and then the rest of my head, feeling the smooth skin atop my head … Wait, what?! I brought both of my hands to the top of my head, feeling all over as I scoured for any hair, ABSOLUTELY ANY hair.
“What the FUCK” I yelled, clamping my hands over my mouth when I heard my voice. I leaped out of bed and went to the nearby full sized mirror that was in the bathroom attached to this bedroom. This bedroom who I feared belonged to someone I knew. When I got to the mirror I was shocked. In front of my was my coach. My shirtless coach. I ran my hands over my belly and moobs, giving each of them a cautious shake. I could NOT believe what was happening! I ran my hands over my silver mustache, I’m my 50 year old football coach.
Nearby on the nightstand a phone buzzed. It was a text from my old number
So I thought a lot about what you said after practice yesterday… You were right, I haven’t been pulling my weight. I’m going to start right away! Except I’ll really be pulling your weight, and you’ll be pulling mine! … if you know what I mean. Enjoy being 50 years old, single, fat, and in a washed up football coaching job for the rest of your life! Also … nice package under your shorts … mine was never this impressive! …Well, I guess it is now 🙂 See you at the big game!
My hands shot down into my pants, oh god. He’s uncut? How on earth am I going to get used to this…
Stuck as Santa 