Ok, so I'm an asst coCh of a 10u baseball team. Had a game tonight. I sorta sit off to the side and watch. I'm more of a practice coach.
Anyhow, I notice a dad bitching at the head coach and cussing at an asst coach in front of the boys. He called a coach "shit for brains".
Sooo, guy takes his kid and leaves the game in the 2nd inning. Calls coach a deuche? And I say " if you'd called me that, I'd be punchin your teeth in (. Building up biz). So guy comes back, gets in my face, I out him in a choke hold, and he gives. Takes his boy home. Sad deal. Soooo, I sent an email to aPologize for the whole thing , and the guy says he
Ll believe I'm sincere if I send it to all the Parents. Reeally?
What would y'all do? [Reply]
The worst guy I personally know wasn't even in athletics in HS. Not a single sport and he was a complete tool, and he's convinced his kid is an all world 5 tool,5 sport superstar. They definitely aren't teaching that kid anything but to win at all costs, including cheating. They're going to raise a future asshole. [Reply]
Originally Posted by frazod:
I've been in lots of fights. A few I've won big time, a few were bloody draws, and most of the rest didn't amount to much. But there was that one time.... :-)
Senior year. Got in a shoving match at lunch with a guy who was picking on one of my friends (really small guy who never fought). The bully in question was well hated, and a fight between us was set for Friday night at the fairgrounds. Fights like this are prime entertainment in small towns, and a good chunk of the high school showed up to watch. Prior to the fight, I listened to Eye of the Tiger (this was 1983) over and over to get psyched out. A friend picked me up. My friend convinced me that I needed to relax (MORON) and handed me a pint of Southern Comfort and a joint. I hit both doob and bottle hard, and was completely f#cked up when we reached the fairgrounds. My friend's van door slides open, I stagger out amid a cloud of pot smoke, take a swing at the guy, miss by a mile, fall over, and then get beat bloody in front of EVERYBODY. I was lucky I didn't lose any teeth, but I had two black eyes, and bruised and blooded everything on my face.
My friends cleaned me up as best they could and dumped me off at home. I was still drunk and high, and scratched the hell out of the front door trying to open it. Finally, I got the key in, turned the knob, pushed open the door and fell flat on my face on the living room floor. When I opened my eyes, I saw my stepmom's toes in front of my face. I looked up at her and said "AW, F#CK."
So, on top of getting a humiliating asskicking in front of the entire school by a complete asshole, I got grounded for two weeks for getting drunk and fighting (luckily no one detected the pot, or I'm sure I would have got a second beating that night).
The good news - apparently the bully wasn't particularly impressive in beating my semi-conscious body, and somebody else kicked his ass shortly thereafter. He quit bothering people. I also challenged him to a rematch, which he declined. Further, I didn't make excuses - I took my lumps and post-fight abuse like a man. So I learned two important life lessons - never fight when you're drunk/high, and if you get your ass kicked, be honest about it.
Originally Posted by stevieray:
people today tend to live vicariously through their kids athletics....and let's not pretend that kids haven't been exposed to violence in our culture.
This reminds me of an incident that occurred back when I used to coach little league up in Canada.
I was an assistant coach and for the most part I was in charge of teaching the kids how to hit. I was really good at giving them instructions that I could relate to; in fact I was so good that they started calling me "Hitman."
Anyhow, there was this constant loudmouth dad. I think his name was Shawn or Michael or something like that. He was always generally disrespectful and he thought he was God's gift to women with his long lair. All of the other parents hated him too. He would parade around and call himself "Sexy Boy" and talk about inappropriate subjects with his friend Hunter.
Well, one day he took it too far and started disrespecting Canada (he was from the USA). I told him that I'd had enough of his crap and to not mess with the Hitman. He challenged me to throw down. I went to take off my awesome pink shaded sunglasses (it was the mid 90s) and hand them to one of the kids so they wouldn't get broken in the fight. Well, when I turned around Shawn grabbed a folding chair and swung it at me. I happened to see him out of the corner of my eye so I had time to duck. While he was off balance from his miss, I gave him a quick kick to the stomach. As he was doubled over from the kick, I landed a quick uppercut that sent him sprawling. I hastily climbed the dugout fence and jumped down on him with a flying elbow. This kept him down, but he was still mouthing off. I decided to apply a move my dad Stu taught me. It was a leglock we called "the Sharpshooter." I got the Sharpshooter locked in. After about 5 seconds, Shawn had had enough. He tapped out and vowed to never come back. All of the other parents in the stands were cheering me. I reminded Shawn that "I am the best there is, the best there was, and the best there ever will be." As soon as I said that, the announcer guy played a cool heavy metal song over the loudspeakers.
After that debacle, I moved on to another less successful little league. I retired quickly afterward though and I was never able to replicate the success I had in the original little league. [Reply]
This reminds me of an incident that occurred back when I used to coach little league up in Canada.
I was an assistant coach and for the most part I was in charge of teaching the kids how to hit. I was really good at giving them instructions that I could relate to; in fact I was so good that they started calling me "Hitman."
Anyhow, there was this constant loudmouth dad. I think his name was Shawn or Michael or something like that. He was always generally disrespectful and he thought he was God's gift to women with his long lair. All of the other parents hated him too. He would parade around and call himself "Sexy Boy" and talk about inappropriate subjects with his friend Hunter.
Well, one day he took it too far and started disrespecting Canada (he was from the USA). I told him that I'd had enough of his crap and to not mess with the Hitman. He challenged me to throw down. I went to take off my awesome pink shaded sunglasses (it was the mid 90s) and hand them to one of the kids so they wouldn't get broken in the fight. Well, when I turned around Shawn grabbed a folding chair and swung it at me. I happened to see him out of the corner of my eye so I had time to duck. While he was off balance from his miss, I gave him a quick kick to the stomach. As he was doubled over from the kick, I landed a quick uppercut that sent him sprawling. I hastily climbed the dugout fence and jumped down on him with a flying elbow. This kept him down, but he was still mouthing off. I decided to apply a move my dad Stu taught me. It was a leglock we called "the Sharpshooter." I got the Sharpshooter locked in. After about 5 seconds, Shawn had had enough. He tapped out and vowed to never come back. All of the other parents in the stands were cheering me. I reminded Shawn that "I am the best there is, the best there was, and the best there ever will be." As soon as I said that, the announcer guy played a cool heavy metal song over the loudspeakers.
After that debacle, I moved on to another less successful little league. I retired quickly afterward though and I was never able to replicate the success I had in the original little league. [Reply]
Originally Posted by loochy:
This reminds me of an incident that occurred back when I used to coach little league up in Canada.
I was an assistant coach and for the most part I was in charge of teaching the kids how to hit. I was really good at giving them instructions that I could relate to; in fact I was so good that they started calling me "Hitman."
Anyhow, there was this constant loudmouth dad. I think his name was Shawn or Michael or something like that. He was always generally disrespectful and he thought he was God's gift to women with his long lair. All of the other parents hated him too. He would parade around and call himself "Sexy Boy" and talk about inappropriate subjects with his friend Hunter.
Well, one day he took it too far and started disrespecting Canada (he was from the USA). I told him that I'd had enough of his crap and to not mess with the Hitman. He challenged me to throw down. I went to take off my awesome pink shaded sunglasses (it was the mid 90s) and hand them to one of the kids so they wouldn't get broken in the fight. Well, when I turned around Shawn grabbed a folding chair and swung it at me. I happened to see him out of the corner of my eye so I had time to duck. While he was off balance from his miss, I gave him a quick kick to the stomach. As he was doubled over from the kick, I landed a quick uppercut that sent him sprawling. I hastily climbed the dugout fence and jumped down on him with a flying elbow. This kept him down, but he was still mouthing off. I decided to apply a move my dad Stu taught me. It was a leglock we called "the Sharpshooter." I got the Sharpshooter locked in. After about 5 seconds, Shawn had had enough. He tapped out and vowed to never come back. All of the other parents in the stands were cheering me. I reminded Shawn that "I am the best there is, the best there was, and the best there ever will be." As soon as I said that, the announcer guy played a cool heavy metal song over the loudspeakers.
After that debacle, I moved on to another less successful little league. I retired quickly afterward though and I was never able to replicate the success I had in the original little league.
He leaves out the part where he kicks the ass of the Little League Commissioner after said fight. [Reply]
Originally Posted by stevieray:
people today tend to live vicariously through their kids athletics....and let's not pretend that kids haven't been exposed to violence in our culture.
didn't a ref just recently die from an attack?
Yes and it was girls soccer of all things. A player kicked him in the temple and killed him over some bad calls. 2 lives lost. [Reply]
Excellent.
Bugs has some good stories about me. Maybe he will read this & post a few?
Like the time I fought a entire family in his moms front yard & won. I can still picture Bugs mom ringing out the rag full of blood over & over after I got done beating on Micky's face. This was before he started coughing up blood. :-) [Reply]
Originally Posted by mikeyis4dcats.:
personally, I think you should resign your coaching position. you are not suitable to be a role model for young children.
This. You're also lucky you didn't catch a fade from that lunatic. How would you explain that to your child? Best thing to do would be have the parent escorted and banned from games in the future. [Reply]
Originally Posted by Silock:
I can't believe that grown men still get into fights, let alone at a youth sporting event.
You can't believe "grown me still get into fights"? What Planet are you from where they don't? Get a ball and get into the game dude. There's grown men who will blow themselves up because they don't like girls in Bikinis and Beer. Jeessuuus. [Reply]
