Coach Dickbrain

I had this coach/gym teacher in grade school that was a piece of shit. He only played his favorites (except in basketball, in basketball he played the good players), he loved having his ass kissed by parents and students alike, and he was the most unfair, sadistic, illogical moron that he could possibly be. Here are some examples:

1) Gym class and square dancing. He was an athletic coach, yet he loved to make us square dance instead of playing dodgeball, hockey, basketball, or the spread-the-parachute-out-and-bounce-some-balls-on-it thing. Every fucking week he would cart this fucking record player out and we would all be forced to "get our hick on". To add insult to kicking us in the head, he would match the boys up with the girls. Since I wasn't an ass kisser, and my dad wasn't an ass kisser, I would get to hold hands and elbows with the chick with snot on her lip or the chick that smelled like cat litter. But invariably his favorite little butt licking asskiss "Jon R" would dosey-do with the best looking chicks with his cold, sweaty hands. Jon R. was the most annoying individual I have ever met. He ended up changing high schools mid year because another dude (who was a half his size) wanted to kick his stupid ass. What a girl.

2) Baseball. I lead the entire summer league in hitting for 2 years and when I played on his team, he didn't play me. I batted clean-up and played a flawless third base and short stop, yet I sat on his bench while we lost games. Eventually I quit wasting my time eating M&M's on the bench with J. Kersh and started playing guitar and pondering my own mortality while stewing in my room alone about shit that would eventually emerge as glorious sarcasm, sharp demented wit, and a neat little disregard towards the establishment. That disregard for the establishment later bit me in the ass and took out a huge chunk of it that still smarts to this day.

3) Track. In 7th grade his try outs for the 100yd dash consisted of this: 6 dudes lined up, and when he says go, we run and the 2 fastest guys get the gig. On try out day we were running on the street, not at the track, and on the street there are cinders. He starts us and I slip hard down to one knee, pause for a second in a "Aw, shit, I will do better next time" manner, and then decide that I can catch everyone. I did. And guess what? I won. And then guess what? I didn't run it at the track meet, instead I was his long jumper while the 2 dudes running the 100yd dash got 4th and 6th. So, in 8th grade I didn't bother with his foolishness - I played guitar and started leaning on this cool crutch I discovered call masturbation.

4) The Shoes vs. The Chips Incident. Holy shit, this thing. This was it. This was the incident that inspired me (and a few others) to wrap his house in twine at 1am in the morning. This is the incident that allowed me to, without guilt, put black powder in a plastic container that was wrapped in duct tape and set it off on his sidewalk. This is the incident that made me feel good about drawing a 15 foot very realistic penis on his blacktop driveway in white chalk in the middle of the night. This incident was the end of me even being remotely courteous to this asshole. We all had these flimsy lockers, and in my locker I had expensive basketball shoes that I never wore except at basketball practice; I could have just worn socks at the games because I never played the games. While I was busy swinging my partner round and round, someone got into the locker room and stole things out of some of the lockers; some of those things were my expensive shoes. I went to him after straw-chewing class and he literally shrugged and said "That isn't my problem." Fine. I can live with that, and I did. But what happened the next week is partly what made me what I am today. Jimmy "the ass kisser" Googleface had his locker broken into, and the thief took out his sandwich bag of chips, ate them, and put the empty plastic sandwich bag back into his sack lunch. Pretty funny, huh? The fucking world stopped spinning for coach dickhead on this spring Friday. We were all called back into the gym and he demanded that the person come forth or the punishment would be even worse by Monday. No one came forth and we all went on our merry way. Monday comes and Jim Martin and I are sitting on the bleachers waiting with hearts full of hope for dodgeball or a game where we had to run really fast. Coach Dicksucker walked in with a red dodgeball under one arm and stared at us until we were quiet. Once we were quiet he just stared at everyone, and stared and stared. Until finally, I asked if we were playing dodgeball. He looked at me, and in a tone that could never be described in words, said, "We aren't doing anything until the person comes forth and admits eating Googlygut's potato chips." Jim Martin and I nearly snapped our necks to look at each other in disbelief and we immediately started laughing, which made Coach Assface even more mad. He made us all sit in silence for gym class for the remainder of the school year, but I did get to talk to him one day about it. I explained that he didn't care about my expensive shoes, but he cared about Jimmy Googleass 6 cents worth of chips, which meant that I was worth less than I could have ever imagined in his eyes. The evil bastard never even flinched; he just waved a hand and turned to stare at, what I assume to have been, a picture of Satan's member so he would know how to better serve his master better in the afterlife.



Anyway, he was a dick.