Our soccer coach in college also happened to be a minster at a church near campus. He was a great guy and a good coach but was a bit forgetful and often running late to the practice field. In the beginning of the season, all of us girls gave him a hard time about it, but after the first 10 times he forgot to bring something important to practice (like his whistle or, say, THE TEAM SOCCER BALLS), we picked up the slack and started doing things for him so he wouldn't be so crazed.
This didn't stop him from wearing mismatched socks to our games, but we wanted to choose our battles.
We always got our practices off to a good start with stretches and running a couple of laps around the field (which really bought Coach a good 20 minutes to flip the mentality switch from his day job to his night job), after which we'd circle up at center field and find out which drills we were going to be doing.
One particular evening, I noticed something about him didn't look quite right. We all got settled at center field and just before he addressed our team, I said, "Hey Coach! You have something on your forehead!"
Everyone started giggling.
I said, "What's so funny? Nobody else was going to say something to him? If his zipper was open you'd want him to know!"
Coach smiled and said, "Which one of you wants to explain Ash Wednesday to our Jewish fullback?"
Wednesday, February 25, 2009
Making an Ash of Myself
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6 comments:
Ha! That's a great story, Jules!
AME! I didn't know it was you when I read your comment in my email. I'm used to you being Melly. I assume your mom started charging money for that moniker?! ;)
Nah, I changed it a while ago so I'd personally benefit from all the fame and fortune likely to come my way. Ma deserves so little of the credit, you know. :)
Ha!
I appreciate people who tell me when I have a visible booger in my nose or when my zipper is down or when there is food in my teeth or when I've still left the size tag on my clothing or when my nipple is hanging out (okay I'm kidding about that one, but still). You are that person and that is why I like you. You big Ash.
Someone wiped off the ash from my 6th grade teacher because they assumed she had dirt on her forehead. I don't know why a 6th grader would care about dirt on anyone's face since we were constantly dirty and always smelled like sweat and wood chips.
I'm curious on this nipple slip Linds...please, give us details. Also, how exactly did the size sticker end up on your little toe the other day?
Too funny. And seriously, the priests in Chicago must have really been ash-happy yesterday. I swear some of the people getting on the elevator with me looked like they'd walked into walls and bruised their entire forehead.
Signed,
The excommunicated Catholic
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