We were getting ready for a show down against conference rival the Arnett-Mead Tigers. Coach was standing over us after every drill. After every missed tackle he began to ask us to search deep in our soul as to whether or not we wanted victory.
He was looking to motivate us. He wanted us to challenge ourselves in order to prove that we had it within ourselves to defeat our rivals in battle on gridiron. After every whistle he bated our egos.
“Are we not clear that in five days a group of men are gonna be comin down here to try and destroy you? Is that not… is that not clear?”
“These same men are gonna be comin down here and they are gonna use everything they have to hurt you.”
“They’re gonna attempt to do this in front of your mothers, in front of your fathers, in front of you brothers, in front of your sisters.”
Despite every question of our abilities and desire on the coaches part we could feel our confidence growing. There was no way in H-E-double hockey sticks were those fucking pussies from Arnett-Mead going to beat us. Friday night, come H-E-double hockey sticks or high water we were not going to lose to those no good bastard sons of mongrel dogs.
Fast forward – it is half time and the score board is reflecting the domination being dispensed at the hands of our opponents. Despite all of the hard work we had put in as a team our efforts thus far on the field have been less than spectacular. Despite coaches warnings earlier in the week we did not head his words as the Tigers had, thus far, come to destroy us and after two quarters of play they were doing their best to defeat us soundly with the score marked at 17-0 for the bad guys.
After all of the quick position meetings, coach gathered us all together for that sort of rah-rah rally you see in the movies. To this day I will never forget what he had to say. Before he started to speak he stood there with a seething in his eyes, the likes I had never seen before. After what seemed like an eternity he began to shout at the top of his lungs, “WHERE’S THE BLOOD?!?”
“You heard me, WHERE’S THE BLOOD?!? The way I see it, you pansy asses should be bleeding like stuck pigs the way they are beating you! Are you having a good time? Are you having a good time out there?!? You know who’s going to be having a good time tonight after this is over? Those boys across the field. That’s who! You know why? Do you know why? Because they are going to be bangin’ the hell out of your girlfriends tonight after they finish with you on the field. Yeah, that’s right, I said it. Those tigers are gonna be poking the tails of your girlfriends. You know why? You know why?!? I’ll tell you why. It because girls love winners and right now you all are a bunch of sorry ass pussies who look like they’re afraid of winning!”
Gunner Johnson, star linebacker, murmured “Yes coach?”
“Johnson, you date that sweet little girl Amy Price don’t cha?”
Johnson, “Yes coach.”
“Do you like it when she gets all close and touches your penis with her mouth? When she slides her tongue up and down the underside of your scrotum… well now picture her doing it to that Arnett-Mead quarterback right before he turns her around and takes her from behind! Do you want to see that happen?”
Gunner stood up, “Hell no!!!”
“Well then go out there and do something about it! All of you better go out there and do something about it! Peterson! I’ve seen the body on that girl of yours. Boy I bet they will pass her around like the last cigarette in a fox hole! Richardson! How about you, you want to watch little Tiffany get plowed over by their defensive line? They are penetrating your protection now, what are you going to do to stop them from hurting your QB1?”
Down the line coach went, attacking our manhood and questioning our desires. Each one of us to a man knew there was nothing standing between those monsters and our women but ourselves. There was no way in H-E-double hockey sticks that we were going to let them beat us now. To beat us on the field is one thing but to treat our women like Sabines, no fucking way!
We went out there in the second half and completely destroyed them. I personally broke two arms of two different Tigers on account that I pictured them giving my sweet Melissa the reach around. The final of the game was 42-17 in favor of the good guys. At the beginning of the week coach questioned our pride and, until halftime, that didn’t work. Having him talk about the deprivation of our women at the hands of our opponents, well that was all we needed to motivate us. I mean who wants to picture their girlfriend getting railed by their opponent?
Looking back after all of these years it seems kind of pointless. It turns out that most of our girlfriends were cheating whores anyway. Some of them were even dating guys from Arnett-Mead behind our backs. It seems they were in fact getting nailed, railed, and plowed by several Tigers at the time. Looking back it seems like it was all a waste of time.