Coach: (n) a person who teaches and trains the members of a sports team

The same tenacity and grit which is necessary to make one successful can just as easily be used to commence a life of crime.

This is the difficulty the adults in our lives face when they train us, and of course, coach us.

They certainly know that initiative, spunk and creativity are essential for forming the building blocks of a prosperous lifestyle. Yet in the moment, these particular attributes, especially when spoken from the nasally nastiness of adolescence, can be obnoxious.

So our instructors often have to find out whether our conduct, being sweet and kind, is a foretelling of goodness or brain death–and if our unwanted opinions prophesy greatness or the possibility of time spent “upstate.”

Let me give you an example.

During a football game, when we were losing 48 to nothing, I ran to the sideline and said the following to my coach: “Come on, coach! This defense you put together for us is just not working!”

I was fourteen at the time, and he was probably in his mid-twenties, trying desperately to survive the humiliation of being drummed by his rival on this field of debauchery.

I noticed that my coach’s face began to twitch. His eyes expanded. The veins in his head popped out, and his countenance became crimson as he slowly said, “Please sit down. Our defense is fine.”

I noticed that he avoided me for the rest of the game, as I avoided many tackles.

Fortunately, he did not personally address my inadequacies and focus on them because of my snippy, snarky comment. He restrained himself, and therefore, I believe I grew up using my precocious nature for good instead of joining forces with the villains to destroy Batman.

It’s not easy being a coach. You don’t always win, but end up stuck with your team, no matter what the score. You can’t blame them or you look like an idiot. You can’t accuse the referees or you appear to be a sore loser.

All you can do is teach what you know, and hope, by the grace of God, it’s enough.



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Batman: (n) A comic strip character that first appeared in 1939.Dictionary B

I have never been much of a follower of superheroes.

I think I’m adverse to the concept–the whole notion that people become superheros because they’re been granted powers. Therefore it is expected of them that they do extraordinary things since they possess inordinate abilities.

I guess that means that all of us slouches are supposed to stand back in awe as the superhero flies through the air, bends steel bars or, I guess even scores touchdowns.

I just don’t like it.

A superhero is a hero who becomes super.

My first question is, how did he get to become a hero?

I would assume it’s because he did something heroic. Of course, it could be a she. So why did he or she do something heroic?

That’s a simple answer. There was some situation or need that required intervention.

So why do these superheroes intervene? Because they believe that things can be better.

So why do they believe things can be better? Because they haven’t given up on who they are and on the people around them.

So I guess Batman woke up one day and said to himself, “There’s not much I can do, but there is much to be done, so let me start doing something.”

After responding to that same calling for a long time, he found himself in a position to do something unexpected, and when it was achieved, he became a hero.

Then more challenges were sent his way, and rather than rejecting them, he decided to take them on.

And then one day, he was deemed “Super.”

Do I believe there’s a superhero inside every one of us?

No, I believe there’s a superhero inside people who have not given up on the human race. 

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