Varieties of Coaches

Those who give minute instructions

Orchestrating every move

Those who hurl abuse

Taking every failure as a

Personal affront

Those who shrug, and turn away

As soon as things go south

Those who live and breathe to

Argue with the ref

Or mutter, bark and shout

In Babelicious tongues

The ones, over-committed, who

Are doomed to dash between a dozen strips

And mine, parked in my line of sight

Talking on his phone

To someone else’s mom

Sometimes giving signals that I swear

I’ve never seen before

Gesturing as if he’s

Trying to land a plane

Distracting me from what is going on

Upon the strip, which sometimes

Often

Is exactly what I need