Unwelcome Burden

 “Second place is insignificant,” the coach always told them. “No one remembers the losers.” He was an intense man. Maybe he meant well, nor maybe he just wanted the glory of building them up from nothing. He drilled the team over and over, pushing them, hectoring them to do more, to be better. The boys hated him.

Last year the coach had just let them play pick-up ball whenever they wanted; they’d had fun even if they’d finished dead last. This year they were winning, getting better, and had a good shot at a regional championship, maybe even provincial. It wasn’t fun though, now. It was a chore, work. 

Sure, some of the guys had gotten into it. The desire for championships and scholarships had taken over, and they weren't the same guys they were last year.  For the other guys, the average players, the boys who were just there for fun,  the team had become one more weight to carry.


-- 30 --

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