Steam was coming out of the coach’s ears and there was fire in her eyes. It was her first day back and she was extremely mad. I had the feeling that there were going to be some changes around here. I felt like the prey just as they were about to be feasted upon. Never had I felt more alone or confused.
“Robbie! Get over here!”
What does she want to talk to me about? Was this about last Saturday? Who was I kidding? Of course it was. The closer I got to her the faster my heart pounded. As I got to her I felt like I was going to have a heart attack. My heart was pounding out of my chest! I didn’t like this at all. Confrontation definitely was out of my comfort zone.
“Sit down” she said calmly, but I knew this was no calm matter. The way she stared at me, those eyes piercing into my sole, eating me from the inside out, sitting there ready to snap.
“What’s this about?” Even though I knew what she was going to say. I had done something wrong, and I knew it, but I didn’t feel bad.
“Why didn’t you run the eight hundred at the meet on Saturday?”
Of course I knew the answer. Why would I want to run it? The four hundred is my race. Colleges were looking at me for my four hundred. The eight hundred race happens right before the four hundred in every meet, so running it makes it impossible for me to get a good time in my race. I had my reasons, and she wasn’t going to understand.
“I don’t know” I’m going to start a fight with her.
“You do know! Now tell me!”
I wondered why she cared so much. It not like I was the star eight hundred runner on the team. I wasn’t good at the race. I always felt like my coach didn’t care about me. She didn’t want me to succeed. All she cared about was her favorite athletes on the team, and of course, I wasn’t one of them. For once I wanted to be able to prove myself as the true four hundred runner I was. So I made a choice and took a stand by scratching in the eight sh...