The Coach's Wife

This is the tale of the Coach's Wife, Little League style.

The Coach's Wife.

She remembers to fill the water cooler and have it ready for every game. Despite some little stinkers who complain that the water is tap and not bottled. Yeah right kiddos, like she's going to fill the cooler with $10 of bottled water each game only to watch you spray your teammates in the dugout with the contents.

She memorizes the names and numbers of every kid on the team.So she can cheer for each child by name and yell encouragement from the stands. No matter how many dropped balls and muffed plays from kids in the field who would rather gaze at the sky than play ball.Because it is in FACT, only a game.

She gently reminds the kids in the dugout to pick up their hats from the ground, to pay attention to the game, to cheer on their teammates…good or bad. And all the while, she misses her husband, the family dinners, her downtime.

She resents the constant rush to complete homework and the stress of trying to make something in 15 minutes for her kids to eat so they can leave with the Coach. The same Coach who goes to the park an hour before the game to help any kids who want to take extra batting or fielding practice.

But still she sits in the stands. And watches. Watches her husband give a pat on the back, a shout of encouragement, hold his breath, hold his tongue. And in return?

One night a grandfather sits in the stands. His grandchild, a player on the husband’s team, leaves the dugout, once, twice, twenty times. To stuff his face with snacks from his grandfather. No other child snacks mind you. No other child leaves.

Because.....those are the Coach’s rules. And finally, the coach says something to the child leaving the dugout.“Hey buddy….let’s stay in the game okay?”

Then the coach’s son, who was batting a thousand, yes a THOUSAND, through the first five games of the season, fails to get on base on his next at bat.Even though he has already had two hits that game, he is VERY upset.

He feels like he has let his team down.They need the runs. He is angry with himself. He starts to cry. He comes out of the dugout to his mom, the Coach's wife, who gives him a hug and tells him that EVERYONE strikes out. It’s part of the game. He’s doing great, hang in there.

THEN....Oh then, the greasy haired grandfather with his nasty curled ponytail that reminds her of a pig’s tail...he says

“What???? Doesn’t the coach’s son have to stay in the dugout??”

In response? The coach’s wife gives her son a gentle pat on the back and tells him to get back to the dugout with his teammates.

The the coach's wife turns to the greasy haired shit of a grandfather and gives him a measured stare and says…nothing.

What she wants to say is “Listen here you jerk. My husband has said nothing for the past hour while your grandson chows down and flouts the rules, leaves the dugout and basically thumbs his nose at my husband and his teammates. And you have the cojones to complain that I am comforting my child who is visibly upset. Well SCREW you”

But she said nothing. Just gave him the death stare. And stood her ground. Remained in the stands and continued to cheer for the team. And the other team when they made good plays.

Because….. she is me....I am the coach’s wife.