comp essay 1 - Frank Turchioe Once a Coach, Now a Friend...

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Frank Turchioe 1/31/07 Once a Coach, Now a Friend As I walked into the dark, musty locker room, the smell of old sweat and dirt filled my nostrils. I had the taste of blood in my mouth and a pounding headache. You could hear the clattering of lockers and the click-clack of cleats on the old hardwood floor. There were a few brave souls talking to each other, but the rest of us remained silent so we did not anger the coaches. Suddenly, the voices stopped. I looked to my left. Walking into the locker room was the toughest looking man I had ever seen. Looking at his bloodshot eyes and the pulsating veins in his forehead immediately gave you the impression that he was furious. As he sat down, the chair sagged slightly under his large, yet solid, body. Coach Dematteo, was dressed in a suit, which made him look more like a character on The Sopranos than a coach. He also wore a hat in remembrance of his brother who had passed away a few years earlier. As he sat in silence, I looked around at my teammates’ faces. On the freshmen’s faces I saw a look of terror. On the upperclassmen’s faces I saw a look of respect and admiration as they waited for advice or a motivational speech for the second half of a game in which we were getting badly beaten. Then, he began not to speak, but to scream in the gravel-toned voice of coaches everywhere. “I have never been so embarrassed to be a coach in my life! You’re all playing like cowards! They’re walking all over you! Do something about it.” After he said this, there was a long pause as he composed himself. Then, he said, “A coward dies a thousand deaths in his life. The courageous die only once. Don’t be a coward,” he paused, “Now let’s play some football!” As I sat on the cold, metal bench, with sweat
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running down my face, I realized that he was right. I made myself a promise. I promised
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comp essay 1 - Frank Turchioe Once a Coach, Now a Friend...

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