The Walker vs. Anal Retentive, or It's In The Bag

by Ed Riley copyright 2002

Have you ever noticed how small the coaching community is in your own town? It's kind of like brothers and sisters. They can fight with each other, but don't let an outsider try it, because this will be the only time you will ever see coaches agree on anything. And they will agree to get the outsider!

So when a coaching friend of mine got whooped by 70 and 3 of her players were maimed by an outside team, it was time to do something. Normally I wouldn't get involved, but the coach that lost is such a nice person and is giving it everything she has, so that made it a rallying cry for help!

This coach took a bunch of the weakest 10th graders in the city and was trying to help them make their team next year. You gotta love it!

The team that beat her was coached by MR. Anal Retentive G.Q. Every hair of his was in place, his power yellow tie was perfectly tied, you could see yourself in his shoes, his polypester fake Armani suit swished when he walked, and his screaming at his players to run up the score, carried like he was using a megaphone! Just looking at his circus show was enough to make me want to have fun, so .........................

A month later my team was in a tournament and I found out that Coach G.Q. was in the same tourney. I made a couple of calls, called in a couple of favors, and arranged for my team to play his in the very first game. I also called the coach who had lost to him by 70, and had her bring her team to watch. What goes around, comes around, right? There's nothing that prohibits you from helping the cycle though, is there?

I had a meeting with my team the night before the game and explained the situation. Then, I asked for their help, which they gladly volunteered. They were all to go home and explain it to their parents as well, because I needed everyone involved if we were to pull this off. Needless to say, all of us looked forward to the next day.

I had my wife drive my daughter and myself in our van to the game an hour early. My team arrived, picked up the balls from me, and went in to warm up. Finally I started to make my slow trec to the gym.

I am a shrinking 6'2" and can do a good slouching hunchback when I want to. With my very thinning hair, I can look like Bozo The Clown in a wind tunnel with no problem. And that's how I designed my look for that game.

I had borrowed an ole timer's walker from a friend and was using it. The walker is the aluminum 4 legged leaning post that older folks use to help them walk. Well, I walked slow, like maybe, oh, 1' every 10 seconds! So it took me about 8 minutes just to make it to the inside door of the gym.

With 3 minutes left before warm-ups ended, I started my "monumental" trec across the court, 1' every 10 seconds. And for any of you older folks that might read this, my hat goes off to you. I respect your patience and your tenacity for forcing yourself to move, rather than becoming a couch potato. It's not easy going that slow, especially when I was pretending to almost drag one of my legs behind me, so my hat is off to you folks.

Well, the horn blew signifying that the tip off was getting ready to start. By that time I was only 1/2 way across the court and in the middle of the court. Both refs looked at me, as did Coach A.R., (Anal Retentive), and shook their heads.

My starting players explained to the refs that I was their coach and please be patient with me as I would eventually make it across the court to the bench. What were the refs going to say, NO? So 5 minutes later I made it to the bench.

Once I was at the bench I started to inch my way toward the coach of the other team. My daughter ran across to Coach A. R. and explained that I wanted to have the traditional handshake before the tip-off. Then she told him it would speed things up if he came to me. So here he came, all puffed up like a blowfish! I could see he was already frustrated with me.

As I shook his hand I tried to say, "Good-luck." Ever seen the movie, "The Other Sister?" Or, "I Am Sam?" Where they act like they are verbally disadvantaged, and talk almost like a Mongoloid? Add to this a fake set of Billy Bob Teeth, the ones that are brown, yellow, and missing a bunch. That was me with this coach. I made every screwed up face I could think of while stammering out, "Good-luck, coach!"

My players helped me to a seat on the bench. I huddled my players up and told them it was time to open up a can of Whoopin A*^ and to run this team till their tongues were around their shoelaces, because they were so hot and tired.

The game started and I must admit, the other team had some talent. But, what they did lacked in talent, they more than made up for in hacks, elbows, pushes, grabbing of jerseys, and the like. And the refs weren't calling a whole lot.

After the 1st quarter it was a tie game, and I waved the ref over. Slowly I stammered my simple request that they keep their eyes open for the elbows and uniform tugging.

Fellow coaches and players, how could a ref ignore a request from an individual like this? It would make them look like a self-righteous power monger and a total insensitive bad guy. So from the 2nd quarter on, they started calling the fouls. Hey, maybe I need to do this more often, huh?

Anyway, at the end of the 1/2, we were up by 8 points. You could hear him unleashing on his team from across the gym.

"How can you be losing to a bunch of losers like that," he said, as he pointed directly at me. "Their coach can't walk! He can't even talk! And you're losing to them?"

I didn't need to give my team a pep talk, Coach A. R. did it for me. My girls were so fired up that they could have chewed glass and never known it.

The 3rd quarter was fun to watch. My team ran Coach A.R.'s into the ground. Fast breaks? I felt like a spectator at U.K. when Coach Rupp introduced the fast break for the very 1st time, we scored at will. At the end of the 3rd quarter we were winning by 30.

At the end of the 3rd quarter I waited for a moment of silence, then in my loudest, slowest, most stuttering voice, I told my team to take it easy on the other team and that it wasn't nice to run up a score.

You could have knocked Coach A.R. over with a feather. His face went so red, so quickly, that I wasn't sure that the top of his head wasn't going to come off from his out-of-control blood pressure.

I must admit, I was a real jerk the last quarter. I used every timeout I had and delayed the game as much as I could. I was a baaaaaddddddddd boy! I just wanted my friend, the coach that lost to him, to be able to savor the moment!

The game finally ended and we won by 32 points. As I looked at Coach A.R., I saw a shattered ego. He couldn't believe that he lost to a person like me. He couldn't believe his team had lost by 32 points to a bunch of "losers" like us.

As we went through the lineup of high five's, I timed my last trick. Just as Coach A.R. shook my hand, I firmly pulled him close to me. Then I stuck a pin in the balloon full of water I had attached to my outside kneecap, covered by light nylon sweats. Water poured down my leg and soaked his closest shoe.

"Damn," I stuttered. "I hate it when my COLOSTOMY BAG BREAKS LIKE THAT!" That was all he could take. He looked at his feet to see how much pee and stuff had hit him, then he pulled away from me like I had the plague and literally ran out of the gym.

I do believe that what goes around, comes around. I also believe that we can hasten the process, just a titch at times. And yes, I am sure that someday I will get what's coming to me as well. I just hope it's as funny!