Coach May
February 18, 2010 § 15 Comments
For the past two weeks, I’ve been tennis coach to a group of boys from my son’s school. I took lessons as a kid, but it’s been years since I’ve played an actual game. Not knowing what to expect, I feared the worst but have been pleasantly surprised.
They’re a good group of kids. One in particular, we’ll call him Bo Jangles, has provided ample entertainment. He’s actually a decent tennis player, but has a bit of a focus problem. Every practice begins with stretches and laps around the court. I run with them to discourage stragglers and add the “incentive” that if they let a mother of 3 beat them, the can run a few more. I like hustle.
I run at the back of the pack, just to keep an eye on them, and noticed early on that Mr. Bo Jangles likes to eat while running. And I mean he actually carried a bag of Doritos’s in his hand, popped one in his mouth, and talked to his teammates. At first I didn’t believe it was happening, my eyes were probably playing tricks on me. Then he tilted his head back, shook the remnants of the bag into the back of his throat, all while running. I envisioned a tiny particle of chip goodness lodging itself in the back of his throat.
“Mr. Bo Jangles,” I shouted. “You cannot run and eat at the same time. You’ll choke.”
“But I’m hungry.”
“Then please make sure you eat a snack before practice starts.”
End of discussion. I think. Clearly, I’ve underestimated the correlation between calorie consumption and a 14-year-old’s metabolism. Mr. Bo Jangles needs to ingest food in 4-minute increments or he’ll die of starvation. Inevitably, he runs to his gym bag when I’m distracted or between drills and returns with a mouth full Twinkie.
Not me.
“Mr. Bo Jangles, if you’re going to choke and die, I’d rather you not do it at tennis practice. Please (pause for emphasis), stop eating.”
The other day, I had them form a chair with their bodies against a wall. “Wall squats” they’re called. (Thanks Trish, Penelope, and Lydia) It’s a killer exercise for the legs.
“Coach May?”
“Yes, Mr. Bo Jangles.”
“Can I eat while we do this drill?”
“No.”
“I’m not moving. We’re just sitting against this wall here.”
“No.”
“Fine.” He rolled his eyes and I added an extra 3 minutes, which I do with them. Thank you.
Today, I was quite pleased with Mr. Bo Jangles’ progress. I only had to ask him to step away from the gym bag once at the beginning of practice. About halfway through, I saw him chewing. It didn’t look like gum.
“Mr. Bo Jangles?”
He swallowed. “Yes?”
“Were you eating?”
“Yes.” He hadn’t been to his gym bag in at least 40 minutes.
“Where did you get the food?”
Mr. Bo Jangles put his hand in his shorts pocket and pulled out a few strips of Beef Jerky. They were linty.
“Can I have those?” I asked.
He handed them over and now my hands smell like beef jerky. Practice continued and exactly 4 minutes later, I caught our friend chewing again.
“Mr. Bo Jangles?”
He looked down.
“Where are you getting this food?”
He looked over at his friend. “From Joe Bob Harry.”
“Mr. Joe Bob Harry, are you providing food for Mr. Bo Jangles?”
He nodded and pulled two handfuls of beef jerky from both pockets.
“Is anyone else smuggling beef jerky in their pockets?”
Every team member handed me a wad of beef jerky covered in yellow tennis ball lint. Every single one of them. And every one of them ran laps.
This has been the greatest difficulty, but I’ve loved coaching them. They don’t make fun of me when I completely miss a ball or use toddler vernacular on them. Tennis players “play clean up” quite nicely. They’ve actually educated me on some new terms the kids are using these days. Just yesterday, for example, I’d asked them to do what I called during my extra-curricular stretching tenure, the “butterfly.” We sat on the ground, placed the soles of our shoes together, and pushed our knees to the ground. I leaned over and put my forehead against my shoes.
“Coach May?”
“Yes, Mr. Bo Jangles,” I said into my shoes.
“No one really calls it the butterfly anymore.”
“What do you call it?” I asked, raising my head.
“The crowd pleaser.”
This is hilarious! As the mother of two teen boys (well. one is in his early 20′s now) I can sooo relate to this! Glad you’ve had fun. I find that teens get have a worse rep than they deserve.
Really? It’s the crowd pleaser now? I must be getting old. ‘Cause it wasn’t when I was 14. Now I’m wishing I had come up with that name at the time. Very clever…
Please write a book. Your sense of comedic timing in writing is pretty darn impressive (he says while eating Cheez-Its not pulled from his pockets).
Denise, these teens are certainly a credit to hudlums everywhere. I mean…
Simon, you are old.
Eric, I like you.
Thanks for commenting!
This was a great, hilarious post. I hope to hear more about the misadventures of Mr. Bo Jangles.
I’m more likely to keep peppermints and/or other forms of candy in my pockets besides beef jerky. What’s more impressive is that he had the entire team stuff their pockets. Hysterical!
This was hilarious!! So this is what I have to look forward to, huh. Next week he’ll be five and then it’s no time at all before he’s pulling chips out of his shorts at soccer practice. Great.
Thanks Jamey, Matt, and Penelope!
Penelope, the neverending joy of finding treasures in pockets is something I look forward to. I’ve found shark teeth, sticks, insects (I died a little on the inside after that one), opened and used suckers, and chunks of concrete. Nothing should suprise me.
Were the insects alive or dead? Please tell me dead. Please.
I could totally see my little guy putting a partially-sucked piece of candy in his pocket for later. Ugh.
I know who I’ll be going to when these treasures start surfacing, Harley! You can keep me sane.
I am here for you.
Harley – This is awesome. You should have no trouble writing YA after this experience. Though we might all wonder why some lovely teenage girl would fall for one of these boys. It is totally AWESOME that he had the entire team sneak beef jerky in for him. HA! I would pay money to watch you play the heavy.
Also – last line=HILARIOUS.
I’ll play the heavy with you if you want. DROP AND GIVE ME 20!
This is hilarious! Oh, to be a fly on the wall at that tennis court…
HA!
Why do I have a hankering for lint-covered jerky now? Curious.
Coach May,
I do believe that you may be able to meet your students halfway with the Food + Athletics problem. Follow the attached link and I think your problem will be solved. By the way, tennis is for those who couldn’t play volleyball!
http://www.theonion.com/content/video/new_wearable_feedbags_let