Several of my high school classes were taught by people whose first name was “Coach.” I used to resent that. My biology teacher, for example, was obviously much more interested in the Ray High School baseball team than he was in coming up with creative lessons about frogs and such.
After I graduated, I became a sports writer and started having trouble getting coaches to return my calls about their teams. Sometimes they didn’t even want to visit with me for a few minutes when I caught them just before or after a game.
It’s easy to conclude that coaches are just a bunch of stupid jerks.
A couple of days ago, I overheard that the Sweeny High School teacher/coaches — the folks who have been at the school preparing for fall sports at least 4 hours per day since the end of July — will all have an extra shift of after-school hall-monitoring duty this year.
These days I think coaches are awesome. I’ve discovered it’s us who are the stupid jerks for expecting daily miracles from them. It’s actually surprising how often they manage to deliver on that expectation.
Thanks be to God for coaches — even the ones whose teams lose a lot.