THE COACH
He enters, places his keys, cigarettes etc. on the table. Sits down.
All right, everybody, let’s just get going. You people know what I’ve come here to probably say. This should all come as no surprise. The phrase, of course, you are familiar with. It was a ‘building year,’ this last year was. We suffered some losses, yes, we suffered some, last season, and we had to start out all over, in a fashion; we had to come at this thing as if it were a – you folks in the press can tell me if this is a pleonasm – a new beginning. We made some changes here and there and here and we made these, mainly, mostly, with the fans in mind, because we wanted the fans to be happy, in our minds we wanted the fans to love us. And I think they should be happy, in my mind I think they should love us.
Listen, last year was not the easiest year. The plan was that it would be for building, for rebuilding, for replacing what was lost, replenishing what was gone, and trying to reverse a routine of losing that had grown in-grown and somehow strangely proud. Our strategy was, in theory, to betray that which has become merely habit, to betray our very fear, the very thing that’s kept us alive, the thing that says to us: Don’t cross the street without looking both ways first; Don’t speak your mind and certainly never your heart.
Brief pause.
But habit’s a hard habit to break.
Brief pause.
And was it only habit that kept us from dropping to our knees in the middle of the street and sobbing and begging ‘Can somebody help me, please?’ Was it just mere routine that kept us on our feet, with our mouths shut and our hands in our pockets?
One night after practice – some of you might appreciate this – I found myself standing in the unforgivable light of a grocery store, staring at my reflection in a freezer, and realizing: ‘You’re not having a bad day – this is just what you look like, now. This is who the years are making you.’ The praying kind probably would have prayed. I just wanted to grab a courtesy phone and beg into it: ‘Could someone come to the front of the store and clean up the spill that is my life on this earth? Could somebody please just somehow help me through this punishing crushing nauseating sorrow?’
Brief pause.
So that’s what this last year was. We had to look hard at a few things and, surprise surprise, we found that they looked hard back. But in many ways, I think we have to be happy. We sold some hot dogs. We got some sun, some fresh air. We played some close games – some of them, even, we were still in until right up to the end. It was the life, it really was, and, granted, yeah, no, this was not the greatest year. Some people are saying it was barely even a shambles. I’m sure there’s a more charitable view, but, okay: fair enough. Fair enough.