So Midwestern

How weird would it be to coach your mom's hockey team?

That's the setup we have on my squad: the kid of one of my teammates is our coach.

He's a nice kid. Straight out of college. Really knows his stuff. We just need someone to run our practices. (Otherwise we just end up putting on our equipment, standing on the ice and gossiping for an hour.) And tell us, nicely, what we're doing wrong in games. Both of which he's very good at. I wish he didn't have a girlfriend. I'd be all about setting him up with Meg.

We had practice tonight.

I was lugging all of my damn equipment into the rink. I hate carrying in my bag. It is big and bulky and I get stuck in doors.

I get to the hallway where the locker rooms are and I kick open the door. Right on the other side, thisclose to getting hit with the door? Coach/Child of Teammate.

"Woah!" He says.

"I'm sorry," I say. "I nearly hit you in the junk!"

That's what I said.

I'm sorry. I almost hit you in the junk.

Seriously.

I know that I'm closer in age to him than I am to his mom and whatever. But really.

Needed: censor and/or ability to think prior to speaking.

Labels: hockey