My Halftime Pep Talk: Making Amends

Okay, ladies, put down the orange slices and listen up!


Oh, those are your jerseys. My bad.

Anyhow, that was a solid first half. Great effort out there. Well, maybe not great, but definitely good. We were unlucky not to score, but we’ve kept them in check and we’re by far the stronger team.

Jacob, you’re getting sucked up the field a bit too far, so watch it. I want you to sit deeper in the midfield. Just like Claude Makelele. Did you watch those tapes I lent you or not?

Joshua, they have no answer for your speed, so fucking use it already. That pudgy little girl they have playing center back practically had a coronary trying to keep up with you. Go ahead, finish the job and put Fatty in a body bag.

And, Cody, I swear to God, if you stab at that ball one more time and let the winger get past you, I’m going strangle you with that ridiculous-looking headband. And don’t sit on my ball, you’ll make it lopsided.

Otherwise, we’re looking dangerous. Let’s just stick to the script, keep up the chatter and maintain possession. And don’t be afraid to shoot. The goals will come.

But before we get back out there, there’s something else I need to address.

As you may or may not know, I’ve been sorting through some heavy issues lately and as part of my court-ordered recovery, I’ve been enrolled in this 12-step program. Now, while some of the steps are kind of bullshit, I’m doing my best to stick with them and they’ve actually begun to yield results.

Austin, stop dicking around and listen. Maybe you’ll learn something and won’t look like such a fucking retard out there.

Where was I? Oh yeah, the steps. Anyhow, I’ve reached Steps 8 and 9, which basically say I’ve got to figure out who I may have hurt in the past and apologize for whatever it was that I did. So, even though most of you probably lack the cognitive ability to grasp this concept, as highlighted by your struggles to run a simple offsides trap, I’m going to give it a go.

Brandon, I want to start by apologizing for calling you ‘Brandi’ all year. I probably shouldn’t expect you to slide-tackle like a professional in your first season, but watching you stick out that little pale leg like you’re dipping a toe in the pool just irritates the living shit out of me. But, had I known the whole team would latch onto the girly moniker, and then all the kids at your school would too, I’d never had said anything.

But, seriously, try tackling like a man.

Zach and Matthew, let me kill two birds here with one stone. Actually, this sort of goes for all of you, but you two specifically. I really got into this coaching gig for the wrong reasons. Instead of wanting to cultivate your interest in this game, pass on all my years of knowledge and generally help y’all have fun and enjoy yourselves, I’ve instead used my position to nail available women. Namely, your mothers.

And older sisters.

And aunts.

And in Joshua’s case, a grandmother.

Tyler, the same goes for you, but take this $20 bill. When your Mom isn’t watching, slip it into her purse. Trust me, she has it coming. And that game you missed at the beginning of the season, when you were inexplicably grounded, was sort of my fault. I don’t want to get into all the sordid details, but I tried to talk your Mom out of it, but as you know, there’s no reasoning with that woman.

Chris, I’m quite remorseful for some of the rather rude and hateful things I’ve said about you behind your back. Technically, I’m not supposed make amends if it would further injure the person, so I won’t repeat the words that were used. Just remember that it’s okay to be who you are, no matter what anybody says. All I’m saying is that you should feel free to like who you like. This day and age, we should all be more open minded. I’m certainly going to try and do my part.

Oh, by the way, how’s your father’s nose? Can’t be all that bad, considering I saved him a few bucks on the deviated septum surgery. Give him my best, though. 

Cody, I was wrong to shave your head last month. If you wanted to grow a fucking rat tail, and your absentee parents were alright with it, it’s not my place to say you can’t. I really had no right to force the shears on you. Granted, you no longer look like an extra from ‘My Name is Earl’, but you should feel free to grow one for next season. I will say, however, that a Mohawk would be a much better choice. A Mohawk equals ‘awesome’. A rat tail equals ‘dirty scumbag’.

But, the open hair policy goes for everybody. Wear it however you want. Show up with a fucking Jheri curl. See if I care.

Mike, I should not have announced that you were adopted in front of everybody that night at Pizza Hut. I was unaware that you didn’t even know, and breaking the news was probably something better handled by your parents. Not your real parents, you’ll probably never meet them — they’re either dead or want nothing to do with you. I’m talking about the ones you live with now.

James, I’ve spoken with the police and your parents and cleared up that shoplifting ‘misunderstanding’. Just to be clear, from now on, you’re only supposed to follow my directions on the soccer field and nowhere else. Once you leave the game or practice, you don’t have to, nor should you, do me any ‘favors’ regardless of what I promises of playing time I make. It’s called ‘duress’, by the way. You may want to remember that, it’s not a bad SAT word.

Austin, I sincerely regret having… wait, is that my wallet? Are those my car keys? Give me those back, dumbass. What the fuck are you doing? You know what? I’m not apologizing to you for anything, you little douchebag. You’re just lucky you’re still on the team.

Oh, there’s the whistle. Okay, we’ll start how we came off. You guys can do this! Let’s twat these fuckers!

Now, huddle up and give me a “kill, kill, kill” on three!


2 Responses to “My Halftime Pep Talk: Making Amends”

  1. 1 Run Up The Score! June 6, 2007 at 2:34 pm

    This is absolutely tremendous.

    Incidentally, my girlfriend’s junior high school field hockey team used to break their huddles with the cheer, “Kill, Kill! Hate, Hate! Murder, Murder, Mutilate!” Mean bitches with sticks.

    Also, the Hot Blogger contest has already been a revelation, as I’ve discovered this fine Liverpool blog. Good deal (and good luck!).

  1. 1 There’s Always A #19 vs. #4 Upset (Or Two) « Run Up The Score Trackback on June 10, 2007 at 1:58 pm

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