Throughout my extensive athletic career I have encountered a number of coaches. The majority of these coaches have been advocates for nothing less than perfection and winning. However, there was one coach who not only encouraged winning, but he also made it a point to become a friend and mentor to his team. He touched my life in a way that no else is yet to replicate. He was cemented into my heart, thus leaving me emotionally traumatized, feeling cracked down the middle, when he was suddenly removed from my life.
“Coach V” as he was lovingly referred to by the team was an assistant coach for my travel soccer team for as long as my memory allows me to remember. He was always the first to arrive at practices and the last to leave with a child like jubilance. He would stay after the practices had concluded and scrimmage with the girls. Following the scrimmage, Coach V would treat us to ice cream in an attempt to neutralize the extreme heat of the scorching summer days. He was full of energy and cheerfulness, or so it seemed, as his admirable demeanor was simply disguising his horrific sadness, as make-up would a blemish.
As I moved from middle school to high school, and I was faced with many decisions, some trivial in the big scheme of things, and others quite crucial, Coach V was always by my side to assist me. I considered him a second father, just as he considered me a second daughter. He would go out of his way in an effort to ensure every girl on the team was in high spirits. I recall Saturday mornings when practices began at 9am, Coach V was awake at 7a.m. driving around the county picking up team members who did not have transportation to practice. Coach V did this out of the goodness of his heart and his love and devotion for the team and the sport.
As described thus far one would picture Coach V as a friendly, energetic child stuck in an adult body, running around interacting with others. When it came to ‘game time’ these characteristics were suddenly accompanied by an incredibly competitive demeanor. He knew how to motivate us for the game without the employment of yelling or harsh tactics. I myself, can say that I honestly played every game for that man. The look on his face, and his endless excitement after a winning competition, was enough for me to play to my fullest potential.
An example of the bond that Coach V and I shared was when our team was playing in a soccer tournament. I had been nominated for the Sportsmanship Award our of every player at the tournament. Once this award was handed to me, I look straight at Coach V, and the happiness seemed to engulf his eyes. Following the awards presentation, I took Coach V aside and handed him my trophy. Clearly a trophy from a teenage girls’, soccer tournament seems quite irrelevant to a forty year old man, however it was the words I told him that would paste that trophy into his memory forever. I simply said, “You have inspired me to play my hardest without making enemies while on the field. You have told me time and time again; do not let the other players’ bad attitudes throw you off your game.” He was speechless as I believe it touched him in a way that was simply a reciprocation of the way he touched my life. I appreciated and respected him with all of me.
I do not believe that there are words to describe my undying love and respect for this man. I have never uttered a negative word about him. Coach V is a person that one is lucky to have formed a bond with. I can only hope to encounter another human being with such a kind-heart as his.
It was at a point much later in my life that I realized how much Coach V meant to me. I remember that week as if it was last week, although it was about five years from this date. The memories of Coach V play like a slide show in my mind, however it always seems to begin with the last time I saw him. I was leaving school, when I saw Coach V picking up his daughter, whom was in my grade and I had grown up with. He pointed to me, and waved, as he approached me. Once he had made it close enough , as he stepped up on the curb he put his arm around my shoulder and began to talk; it was this conversation, that I continue to play over and over in my head, often as I lay restless attempting to sleep.
“Hey, I know that this past season was my last chance to be a coach for you, since you are going off to college next year. I just wanted to tell you that it has been a pleasure coaching you and watching you play. I wish you much luck in the future, and I’m sure you will be successful. You know where I live, so if there is anything, I mean anything at all don’t be afraid to stop by, I am always here for you.” I didn’t know what to say. My heart flooded with a concoction of happiness, thankfulness, and sadness, for I wouldn’t see him as often when I went off to school. If only I had known that this would be the last time I would ever speak to him.
It was a Monday evening. My mother had just picked me up from the daycare that I worked at part-time. It was exactly 6:22p.m. when we pulled, what seemed to be excessively slow, and my mother looked at me with tears filling her green eyes. I remember the confusion that infiltrated my mind. I wondered, what could be wrong? Having not encountered many deaths of loved ones in my lifetime, I found myself mal-prepared for the emotions I would soon be plagued with. My mother looked me in the eyes, and said with her voice crackling, “Coach V died.” With that simple statement my heart began to race, my head began to pound, and my eyes instantly began to stream with tears. I felt a chill through my body that I will never be able to forget. Although the fact that he had died, I was still perplexed, wondering how? Why? Was he in the hospital at some point and I was unaware? I said to my mother, my voice very weak, “Was he in a car accident or something?”
It turned out the joyfulness portrayed by him was simply shadowing his depression which ultimately claimed his life in the form of suicide. He had hung himself in his home that morning, once his children had unsuspectingly left for school. This is something that still I am yet to understand. How could he have seemed so exuberant and full of life when in reality he was crying and losing his appreciation for life? I immediately felt guilty. I asked myself over and over why I didn’t notice, and why I didn’t do anything to intervene. I have now found that suicide leaves one with a feeling of emptiness, and a million unanswered questions that even in time, will never be answered.
My one regret is that I could have said goodbye to this person who meant so much to me, and had touched my life in a way that is yet to be matched. This soccer coach, who only cared about the purity of the game, and the players, was gone. And with this, I decided to end my pursuit of soccer as a hobby. I find it too difficult to play because I still see him on the sidelines encouraging us, and I still hear him yelling my name and telling me, “Go, you can get that ball, RUN!” If I could say one thing to Coach V it would be, thank you for all you have done for me, and I love you. This however is an understatement, as no words are sufficient enough to portray my gratitude towards Coach V.
