Letter to my coach
The cursor blinks, repeatedly,And I can’t find the words to put on the page.To write a letter to you,Brings me sorry, loss, anger, and rage.
For four years, you were my coach,My idol, the one I’d do anything for.I loved you, and obeyed you,Yet you abused me on the floor.
Our relationship started backWhen I was only thirteen years old.I remember you in the classroom,Then on court, where players you’d mold.
I stayed quiet in back of your class, Starting highschool, I was just another kid.But when basketball season started at school,Hustling and shooting was something I did.
So your interest in me grew after that,And you were super kind, and caring to me.You did so much extra for our team,From your time, to teaching plays in the key.
I remember first year in the small gym,You believed in me and worked me hard.Mid-game, with parents and kids watching,I missed a simple layup as your point guard.
You called me over to the sideline,With the game still running on behind us.“Down and give me ten pushups”,And I dropped, and did, with very little fuss.
Freshman year came and went With our team winning lots.Between you and players the closeness grew,Especially to those who were hitting their shots.
That winter you took us to a tourney,An overnight trip in a town full of snow.Nothing happened there but ball and laughs,As things were fun as we continued to grow.
I felt you really did care for us,And you knew, we did for you too.You were often kind to the team,And nice to those that you knew.
With a tournament in your community,You gave us the keys to your own home.It was close enough to hang out in,Between games, we had space to roam.
We would hang out in the PE office,Getting equipment and supplies with you,You made me feel like I was a favorite,But you were grooming me as I grew.
It was sophmore year when I felt a bitOf a change to our relationship.Was growing into myself,a woman,Started having feelings I didn’t grip.
We would catch rides in your car,For games, or whatever that day’s trek.You would have Clarence Carter - Strokin’ Playing more than once on your tape deck.
Sat shotgun one ride and the song was on,And I remember you turning to me.Eyes locked on each other for a long time,As my teammates sang along out of key.
We even played part of the song for you,For announcements on the PA at school.The whole building heard, and you loved it,And gave a nod that it was all cool.
A week before playoffs I got quite sick,And stayed home with a fever for days.You showed up there with a Pistol Pete book,Chatting up my parents and giving praise.
When bball season was done, you talked me Into track to throw javelin with you.Meeting early mornings on the school field,Was peaceful, and sometimes just us two.
Holding up my arms for proper technique,To widening my stance with your feet,Standing close holding the javelin high,Constant touching created some heat. But I can look back now, and see it so wrong, Inviting me downstairs to a room of some sort.At the school, just you and I, lights off, TV on,Watching film to help me improve at my sport.
Sitting side-by-side in the darkened room, I felt special and a favorite to you. Nothing more than an arm around my shoulder,Or hand on my leg, was nothing new.
I trusted you and confided in you,And visited you each day in your class.The grooming continued each year,Up to this point you never made a pass.
Junior year we went south to a tourney,Even at the time I thought it was strange,You ran a practice for us on the beach,With all girls in bikinis and not changed.
Was that not wrong at the time?Did you not think that was wrong?Young bikini clad girls running plays,In the sand to prepare and get strong?
You ran the practice with your shirt off,Chest strong and glistening in the sun.Moving players around by pointing,Again, for you we would jump and run.
Then came summer all 17 years old,When you gave our team the invite.To your cabin on a lake that summer,Just a few from the team went for a night.
I was one of the few and so excited,As we were going to do my favorite things.Get pulled behind a boat barefooting, Tubing, skiing, and all the fun it brings.
I went down hard barefooting, as you hadMe sit on a surfboard, then try standing.But for you, I did anything you asked,Until on the lake, I had an epic crash landing.
You, without your shirt on again,Wearing your small 80s swim trunks too.It was pouring rain outside that day,Us drenched, and water rolling off of you.
You carried me from the dock to your cabin,And gently laid me down on your bedroom floor,The others kept busy outside,As you went and closed the inside door.
You asked me if you could touch me,To massage my back and help.Loved the touch of your hands on me,I said yes, I wouldn’t yelp.
You then asked me if you could straddle me,That I was ok with you on top.Again I said yes, just us on the floor,Hormones ragging, didn’t want it to stop.
Your rubs started slowly and central,But slowly slid down to my sides.Hands wandering from the target,I gave in and let you be the guide.
I lay face down with my bikini on,Your hands slipping under the straps,And you didn’t have much to hide that day,Player coach relationship lapsed.
I felt you grow larger on top of me,And got excited myself with back pain.You would lean in with some long hand strokes,Asking if I was good, as my back had sprained.
If I had turned over we wouldn’t have stopped,It was this moment I often think about.Our wet bodies touching, and you straddling me,That moment we both wanted it no doubt.
Then you suddenly got up and left the room,You must have realized it went too far.Not much eye contact after that day,As I think you knew you left me a scar.
At this point, I still wanted you more.Wanted you, my idol, it was clear.But a few weeks later, you told the team,You weren’t coaching us our final fifth year.
Was it due to that night at the cabin,That for the team and me, changed it all? You realized you had got too close,Time together outside of basketball.
There were other times, you must remember,When you and I had crossed the line,Back in time, it was a different era,One turned a blind eye, it was fine.
I then felt lost without you as my coach,And really felt abandoned by you too.I missed the connection that we had,And felt what we had was far and few.
Thinking we had something special?I was truly brainwashed by you back then.You had groomed me for wanting more,Shaping the start of my lust for grown men.
The next few months in my senior yearI didn’t cope well with your “leaving us” news.Took to risky behavior with others,Drinking, partying, and substance abuse.
Much of the end of the year was a blur,My grades dropped, but I still got scholarships.I realized I needed to get some help,What I got off on were not healthy trips.
Another teacher that year helped me withSubstance abuse, but didn't know the truth.I never told them about your special touch,Which really messed me up in my youth.
Why did you push it so far?And not see it as illegal and wrong doing?I was just a young athletic girl, Which made it so easy for your wooing. Made high level teams thanks to your time,But after that summer you damaged me.I quit the game, and gave up my scholarship,Played another sport, to just try and get free.
Then, it was less than one year later, A deadly virus, or so they say you had.And died quite young in the hospital, which was quite sad as you were a dad.
I went to the hospital to see you that week, To visit you when you were sick.You were in ICU and they didn’t let me in,As machines helped keep your heart tick.
Your funeral down by the water,Was so emotional for me, it hurt.My friends gave support and held me tight,As I buried myself in their shirts.
End of the funeral, your close friendCame over to me to say,“There were two girls he loved like daughters,You were one”, they said that day.
Really? Cause you don’t treat daughters like that,I wonder who was the other one?And I pray it wasn’t like our relationship,With more stories with her that could stun.
After you passed, I went back to my game,Basketball at the college stage.I needed to play as I grieved for you,Maybe it was time to turn a new page.
But life was fast back then and with substancehabits I learned at highschool,They continued through my college days,Where some were quite hard and cruel.
The over partying and late nights out,Were rough while playing sports and work.I thought it was all fun and play,Until I went out with a couple of jerks.
I was sexually assaulted more than onceIn my twenties, due to partying hard.Once traveling alone, and another badly,By two men when I let down my guard.
I was completely controlled by them,In a place I should never have been.Left crying and shaking and broken,Only now have I shared this scene.
But I blame you for it all coach,For the road that you took me down.Taking substances for dealing with you,And eventually leading to my breakdown.
I became a teacher, not due to you,But due to others that did so much good.I love seeing kids improve and grow,Absorbing education as one should.
But when I got a job at my old school,Coaching the senior girls basketball team,It all came back to me like yesterday,Many years had passed, but it was extreme.
The sound of the bouncing ball,On the old creaky gym floor,The feel of the leather in my hands,And the bang of the gym doors.
Your picture was hung upOn several school walls,I would cringe and shudder,With memories in the halls.
I feel your presence around the school,I have flashbacks of you in the gym,Sometimes yelling on the sidelines orTeaching us the miter drill on the rim.
I redesigned and moved around,The office area of past years.Hoping new space, new memories,Would help me stop shedding tears.
This year my senses really took hold,And my mind took over my body control.It was time to deal with this past trauma,Finally addressing what has scarred my soul.
So I reached out for help as I couldn’t work,And this was so hard to do the first time.Anger to you grew with each therapy sit,As you are not here to discuss your crime.
Talking to others, I learned a bunch more,That sadly, I was not your only one.You seemed to have a thing for younger girls,Even when married, that didn’t stop your fun.
I feel others may have known at work,Switching things for your coaching and all.Prior to me, you with a past student,Different era back then, you didn’t fall.
But this is a new era now,One of truth and quiet no more.Dead to me in more ways than one,Leaving behind the cabin floor.
You will not define my what is next.You will not control my thoughts.Moving on educated and strong,I won’t let your ghost call the shots
I am going to work in the building,Where all those memories really are,To prove I won and can beat you,And to rid myself of all your scars.
Truth is, I hate going to work right now,I revisit our history each day.Your pencil tucked behind your ear,Your ghost in the gyms that I want to slay.
You’ve affected my teaching and coaching,You’ve negatively changed me there,Can’t enter the gym without feeling buzzed,Jerseys, and games, are drowning me I swear.
Today, I think you would be remorseful,If you were even alive to talk,I think you would be apologizing,Hearing the long effects of the shock.
This letter is part of my therapy,Some words to you, to give closure to me.But it hasn’t helped me at all just yet,I just want to be rid of you and free.
I’ve been told with time things get easier,And I will vouch to also do more.To help ensure nothing happens again,With athletes and the coaches they adore.
I have children now myself,And they have a love for their sports too.I have and will always coach their teams,To ensure no coach abuses them like you. And it still hurts. lettertomycoach@gmail.com
For four years, you were my coach,My idol, the one I’d do anything for.I loved you, and obeyed you,Yet you abused me on the floor.
Our relationship started backWhen I was only thirteen years old.I remember you in the classroom,Then on court, where players you’d mold.
I stayed quiet in back of your class, Starting highschool, I was just another kid.But when basketball season started at school,Hustling and shooting was something I did.
So your interest in me grew after that,And you were super kind, and caring to me.You did so much extra for our team,From your time, to teaching plays in the key.
I remember first year in the small gym,You believed in me and worked me hard.Mid-game, with parents and kids watching,I missed a simple layup as your point guard.
You called me over to the sideline,With the game still running on behind us.“Down and give me ten pushups”,And I dropped, and did, with very little fuss.
Freshman year came and went With our team winning lots.Between you and players the closeness grew,Especially to those who were hitting their shots.
That winter you took us to a tourney,An overnight trip in a town full of snow.Nothing happened there but ball and laughs,As things were fun as we continued to grow.
I felt you really did care for us,And you knew, we did for you too.You were often kind to the team,And nice to those that you knew.
With a tournament in your community,You gave us the keys to your own home.It was close enough to hang out in,Between games, we had space to roam.
We would hang out in the PE office,Getting equipment and supplies with you,You made me feel like I was a favorite,But you were grooming me as I grew.
It was sophmore year when I felt a bitOf a change to our relationship.Was growing into myself,a woman,Started having feelings I didn’t grip.
We would catch rides in your car,For games, or whatever that day’s trek.You would have Clarence Carter - Strokin’ Playing more than once on your tape deck.
Sat shotgun one ride and the song was on,And I remember you turning to me.Eyes locked on each other for a long time,As my teammates sang along out of key.
We even played part of the song for you,For announcements on the PA at school.The whole building heard, and you loved it,And gave a nod that it was all cool.
A week before playoffs I got quite sick,And stayed home with a fever for days.You showed up there with a Pistol Pete book,Chatting up my parents and giving praise.
When bball season was done, you talked me Into track to throw javelin with you.Meeting early mornings on the school field,Was peaceful, and sometimes just us two.
Holding up my arms for proper technique,To widening my stance with your feet,Standing close holding the javelin high,Constant touching created some heat. But I can look back now, and see it so wrong, Inviting me downstairs to a room of some sort.At the school, just you and I, lights off, TV on,Watching film to help me improve at my sport.
Sitting side-by-side in the darkened room, I felt special and a favorite to you. Nothing more than an arm around my shoulder,Or hand on my leg, was nothing new.
I trusted you and confided in you,And visited you each day in your class.The grooming continued each year,Up to this point you never made a pass.
Junior year we went south to a tourney,Even at the time I thought it was strange,You ran a practice for us on the beach,With all girls in bikinis and not changed.
Was that not wrong at the time?Did you not think that was wrong?Young bikini clad girls running plays,In the sand to prepare and get strong?
You ran the practice with your shirt off,Chest strong and glistening in the sun.Moving players around by pointing,Again, for you we would jump and run.
Then came summer all 17 years old,When you gave our team the invite.To your cabin on a lake that summer,Just a few from the team went for a night.
I was one of the few and so excited,As we were going to do my favorite things.Get pulled behind a boat barefooting, Tubing, skiing, and all the fun it brings.
I went down hard barefooting, as you hadMe sit on a surfboard, then try standing.But for you, I did anything you asked,Until on the lake, I had an epic crash landing.
You, without your shirt on again,Wearing your small 80s swim trunks too.It was pouring rain outside that day,Us drenched, and water rolling off of you.
You carried me from the dock to your cabin,And gently laid me down on your bedroom floor,The others kept busy outside,As you went and closed the inside door.
You asked me if you could touch me,To massage my back and help.Loved the touch of your hands on me,I said yes, I wouldn’t yelp.
You then asked me if you could straddle me,That I was ok with you on top.Again I said yes, just us on the floor,Hormones ragging, didn’t want it to stop.
Your rubs started slowly and central,But slowly slid down to my sides.Hands wandering from the target,I gave in and let you be the guide.
I lay face down with my bikini on,Your hands slipping under the straps,And you didn’t have much to hide that day,Player coach relationship lapsed.
I felt you grow larger on top of me,And got excited myself with back pain.You would lean in with some long hand strokes,Asking if I was good, as my back had sprained.
If I had turned over we wouldn’t have stopped,It was this moment I often think about.Our wet bodies touching, and you straddling me,That moment we both wanted it no doubt.
Then you suddenly got up and left the room,You must have realized it went too far.Not much eye contact after that day,As I think you knew you left me a scar.
At this point, I still wanted you more.Wanted you, my idol, it was clear.But a few weeks later, you told the team,You weren’t coaching us our final fifth year.
Was it due to that night at the cabin,That for the team and me, changed it all? You realized you had got too close,Time together outside of basketball.
There were other times, you must remember,When you and I had crossed the line,Back in time, it was a different era,One turned a blind eye, it was fine.
I then felt lost without you as my coach,And really felt abandoned by you too.I missed the connection that we had,And felt what we had was far and few.
Thinking we had something special?I was truly brainwashed by you back then.You had groomed me for wanting more,Shaping the start of my lust for grown men.
The next few months in my senior yearI didn’t cope well with your “leaving us” news.Took to risky behavior with others,Drinking, partying, and substance abuse.
Much of the end of the year was a blur,My grades dropped, but I still got scholarships.I realized I needed to get some help,What I got off on were not healthy trips.
Another teacher that year helped me withSubstance abuse, but didn't know the truth.I never told them about your special touch,Which really messed me up in my youth.
Why did you push it so far?And not see it as illegal and wrong doing?I was just a young athletic girl, Which made it so easy for your wooing. Made high level teams thanks to your time,But after that summer you damaged me.I quit the game, and gave up my scholarship,Played another sport, to just try and get free.
Then, it was less than one year later, A deadly virus, or so they say you had.And died quite young in the hospital, which was quite sad as you were a dad.
I went to the hospital to see you that week, To visit you when you were sick.You were in ICU and they didn’t let me in,As machines helped keep your heart tick.
Your funeral down by the water,Was so emotional for me, it hurt.My friends gave support and held me tight,As I buried myself in their shirts.
End of the funeral, your close friendCame over to me to say,“There were two girls he loved like daughters,You were one”, they said that day.
Really? Cause you don’t treat daughters like that,I wonder who was the other one?And I pray it wasn’t like our relationship,With more stories with her that could stun.
After you passed, I went back to my game,Basketball at the college stage.I needed to play as I grieved for you,Maybe it was time to turn a new page.
But life was fast back then and with substancehabits I learned at highschool,They continued through my college days,Where some were quite hard and cruel.
The over partying and late nights out,Were rough while playing sports and work.I thought it was all fun and play,Until I went out with a couple of jerks.
I was sexually assaulted more than onceIn my twenties, due to partying hard.Once traveling alone, and another badly,By two men when I let down my guard.
I was completely controlled by them,In a place I should never have been.Left crying and shaking and broken,Only now have I shared this scene.
But I blame you for it all coach,For the road that you took me down.Taking substances for dealing with you,And eventually leading to my breakdown.
I became a teacher, not due to you,But due to others that did so much good.I love seeing kids improve and grow,Absorbing education as one should.
But when I got a job at my old school,Coaching the senior girls basketball team,It all came back to me like yesterday,Many years had passed, but it was extreme.
The sound of the bouncing ball,On the old creaky gym floor,The feel of the leather in my hands,And the bang of the gym doors.
Your picture was hung upOn several school walls,I would cringe and shudder,With memories in the halls.
I feel your presence around the school,I have flashbacks of you in the gym,Sometimes yelling on the sidelines orTeaching us the miter drill on the rim.
I redesigned and moved around,The office area of past years.Hoping new space, new memories,Would help me stop shedding tears.
This year my senses really took hold,And my mind took over my body control.It was time to deal with this past trauma,Finally addressing what has scarred my soul.
So I reached out for help as I couldn’t work,And this was so hard to do the first time.Anger to you grew with each therapy sit,As you are not here to discuss your crime.
Talking to others, I learned a bunch more,That sadly, I was not your only one.You seemed to have a thing for younger girls,Even when married, that didn’t stop your fun.
I feel others may have known at work,Switching things for your coaching and all.Prior to me, you with a past student,Different era back then, you didn’t fall.
But this is a new era now,One of truth and quiet no more.Dead to me in more ways than one,Leaving behind the cabin floor.
You will not define my what is next.You will not control my thoughts.Moving on educated and strong,I won’t let your ghost call the shots
I am going to work in the building,Where all those memories really are,To prove I won and can beat you,And to rid myself of all your scars.
Truth is, I hate going to work right now,I revisit our history each day.Your pencil tucked behind your ear,Your ghost in the gyms that I want to slay.
You’ve affected my teaching and coaching,You’ve negatively changed me there,Can’t enter the gym without feeling buzzed,Jerseys, and games, are drowning me I swear.
Today, I think you would be remorseful,If you were even alive to talk,I think you would be apologizing,Hearing the long effects of the shock.
This letter is part of my therapy,Some words to you, to give closure to me.But it hasn’t helped me at all just yet,I just want to be rid of you and free.
I’ve been told with time things get easier,And I will vouch to also do more.To help ensure nothing happens again,With athletes and the coaches they adore.
I have children now myself,And they have a love for their sports too.I have and will always coach their teams,To ensure no coach abuses them like you. And it still hurts. lettertomycoach@gmail.com