Coach Goodspeed: A Short Story

Pulling in the gravel parking lot, I can already see spectators set up around the fields. As we walk towards our team, I see girls ripping through their bags to find a lost shin guard sleeve or asking a teammate for an extra hair elastic. After arranging my bag underneath me to save my shorts from the damp dew clinging to the grass, I start getting ready. I jump up for warm-up exercises, my sleepy eyes clearing. Once the referee signals the end of warm-ups, our team huddles together for the pregame speech. Positions are delegated, the starting eleven step onto the field, and the whistle blows.

Going into that game we had convinced ourselves that we had already lost before it even started. We were about as flat as a tabletop. While warming up we were pretty much just waiting for the game to end, so that we could just leave and just call it a year!” Once the game actually started something just clicked. We

I provide myself only twenty-four hours to dwell on a failure before creating a plan to overcome the obstacle and achieve success. Over this twenty-four hour time period I had the opportunity to reflect on my performance during the game, thinking about what I have done wrong and what I need to do better in practice the next day. The next day in practice the team moral was broken, we were all upset with our loss and needed to remember that the season is not over and that we need to get back out there and practice. This loss helped us to learn that we cannot take anything for granted; we went in with high hopes and made unfortunate mistakes that cost us the game. We must be humble, wise and learn from those mistakes in order to become

As coach listened he was also preparing of the biggest speech of the season. He said “We as coaches can only do so much as it is to teaching you guys what to do, you have to do the rest on the field. You have to try harder than you have ever tried before, you have to dig deep and show them what you got, now let’s go do this. TEAM on three, one-two-three.”

The red curtains open to reveal a blinding bright spotlight and a packed arena. Getting to the National Championship an immense amount of preparation. We had two minutes in front of the judges. We put our hands in the middle of our circle. For the last time of the season, we chanted “LHS cheer!”, and then we were off. The crowd was silent with anticipation. The routine felt like second nature and we ended up doing well. We made it to finals and ultimately took fourth place in the nation. It the first time in five years that our team had placed. It was a long journey getting to this point.

After meandering around for a while, it was our turn to practice. We trekked down the long corridors down to the field and performed to the best of our ability while out coach looked on, scrutinizing out every move. "Remember, there aren't many of us so if we want to place we need to make sure that the quality of the routine is outstanding," she reminded us. All of our grueling 6:00 practices weeks in advance had lead up to this. In just a few moments we were going to perform in front of the slew of stern judges. Rehearsing our routine beforehand, however, did little to fend off the anticipation we all

“For those of you who may not know, this is the final resting place for six members of the 1970 Thundering Herd. The plane crash that took their lives was so severe, so, so absolute, that their bodies were unable to be identified. So they were buried here, together. Six players, six teammates, six Sons of Marshall. This is our past, gentlemen. This is where we have been. This is how we got here. This is who we are. Today, I want to talk about our opponent this afternoon. They're bigger, faster, stronger, more experienced and on paper, they're just better. And they know it, too. But I wanna tell you something that they don't know. They don't know your heart. I do. I've seen it. You have shown it to me. You have shown this coaching staff, your

“Party at my house after the game!” I told my teammates jokingly as we got in position for what would be our last game of the season. All my teammates laughed. I felt almost as if the championship was guaranteed and all we had to do was kick the ball around for 90 minutes before collecting the trophy. “Whoot” the whistle blew, signifying the beginning of the game.

Saturday morning, and sweat is running down my face. Dirt is covering every inch of my body. Breathing hard I hear the coach scream “GO!”. Already tired I force my beaten body to run as fast as I could. I see my opponent come into my view, and I know what I have to do. Speeding my way towards the ball I tackle the kid in front of me. In the distance I hear satisfaction from my coach. “Nice tackle Dylan, you get better everytime I watch you.” applauds my coach. I thank him for noticing that I have been working hard throughout these two a day practices. Sprinting my way towards the  next drill I run my coach's words through my head which helps boost my confidence for what is to come next. I was halfway through the week filled with these gruesome two a days, but I knew from my improvement each day I would make it.

I woke up to my mom entering my room screaming, “ ITS GAME DAY!” Instead of waking up to my usual routine, sluggish and begging for more sleep, today was completely different. It was a beautiful and sunny Saturday in December. I still was in shock my school finally made it to the championship game. It felt like a dream as if my mother never woke me up by her yelling. I knew this was a huge game and something I would remember forever. Considering the high circumstances of this game I knew I had to be one hundred percent ready to play my best. My head coach, Coach Sphire wanted all of us players to report to the film room by noon that day. As time past by my team I had discussed many offensive and defensive plays, watched film, and prepared ourselves

Tonight is the night we show them why we are here, and we are going to prove that we deserve to be here. Today was 18th of November a special day for us football players. We were scared, excited, nervous, and thrill of this day. It was a cold and we day every team member had their jersey on representing himself high

It was the last game of the season. We had won every single game except for one. Our team had tied with Phoenixville, and today was the day that we would beat Phoenixville. Almost every day of the week we would show up for practice for 2 hours, and we have improved by a lot.

“How am I supposed to count on a guy who can’t finish sprints? Who can’t give the effort to be great?” our new seventh grade football coach screamed into my facemask, spitting in anger. This was my wake up call. To this very day I have the same coach, and I still have flashbacks to that moment when he challenged me like I had never before been challenged. This 30 seconds would change who I am forever.

“Of course not, today’s gonna suck” I replied. We both remembered the last time we went. “Probably not gonna be allowed to run the fifty five again, and I hate warming up there.”

The team was ready, we had been working extremely hard for the past seven months for this. We were all in great shape and very rested. A few of the returning players were meeting me at my house to carpool to the final game of the state championship tournament. Everyone knew that the hard work had paid off when we won the semi-final game the preceding day.