After Resigning as Assistant Baseball Coach, It Was Time to Turn the Page...

Previously, Chapter 9: I Stormed Out of the Locker Room, Angry as Fuck...

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After being summoned to the principal's office, I immediately broke out in a cold sweat. On the way, a lot of things were going through my mind. What would I tell my wife if I was actually pink-slipped and my teaching career was over? 

Earlier in the year, I got into a verbal dustup with one of the other plumbing instructors, a guy who had been there a while, had professional status, and was a card-carrying union member. Although that guy instigated the confrontation, the union pressured the Principal into putting a disciplinary note in my file, but he chose not to make it a permanent one. He said if I behaved for the remainder of the year, he'd remove it. I considered him a reasonable guy and someone I could trust.

I waited on a long, narrow oak bench outside the Principal's office that could seat three, maybe four misbehaved youths. It was heavily varnished, with beautiful spindles and a sculpted seat, making it kind of comfortable. But the experience was reminiscent of when I was school-aged and in some sort of trouble. However comfortable, the bench was still a hot seat, and I felt like everyone in the office was looking at me and wondering, "Now, what has he done?"

When the secretary announced, "You can go in now…" I took a deep breath and held it like I was preparing to swim underwater for an unspecified amount of time. When I walked in, the Principal had a welcoming smile on his face, not one I'd expect from a potential bearer of bad news. Then he said demonstratively, "Take a seat, Vinnie…"

I sat in one of the two chairs in front of his large glass-topped wooden desk, which was neat and well-organized. He immediately let me off the hook, "You're not here to be fired. Everyone is very happy with your performance as a plumbing instructor." That was a big relief. I exhaled.

He continued, "I got a disturbing call from one of your baseball players' dads saying how upset he was that you're no longer the assistant coach on his son's team."

It was Stag's father. He and Alejandro's family attended every single game, home and away. More than anyone else, they knew what was going on with the team and the head coach.

"He said I should fire Coach and let you continue as head coach because that's the only way the team will qualify for the tournament. Tell me, what happened?"

"Two days ago, I resigned my position as Assistant Coach and hitting instructor. I gave each kid a copy of a letter explaining my decision. I also gave Coach a letter that was more to the point…"

His face suddenly became less friendly and his delivery more direct when he said, "So, I'll ask you again: What the hell happened?" 

"I want to be clear," I said. "I didn't come to you to complain or rat anyone out. You approached me as my boss and asked me to come in, right?"

"Absolutely!" he replied. "I came to you. You didn't come to me."

"Okay, then," I said, agreeing to tell him exactly what happened. It was the perfect opportunity to come clean and vent a season full of frustration.

I told him how Coach handled cutting Mike and then how he disrespected Alejandro and wanted to throw him off the team. How his attitude towards me changed after we beat Diman for the first time in twenty years while he was at a football banquet. And how that culminated in an on-field tirade where he attempted to humiliate me, so much that the first base umpire suggested I tell him to "Fuck off!"  

I described how he scared kids with his animated and violent swearing and how he pointed his thick index finger in their faces, sometimes poking them in their chests with it…

That's when the principal took a deep breath like he was about to descend on his own underwater journey. After he exhaled, he looked at me and sadly admitted, "What am I gonna do? He won two Super Bowls. How can I fire him?"

It wasn't a question. He was just explaining his awkward position. I nodded my head, agreeing that he had a dilemma that wasn't easily solved.

By the time we finished our meeting, I still had a teaching job, Coach was still the head varsity baseball coach, and the Principal understood exactly what happened and what little he could do about it…

They only had to win two of the remaining five games to qualify for the tournament. I knew they were a solid baseball team, exceptional at times, capable of winning at least two, maybe more. They worked hard all season long, and they deserved it. 

Despite how I was treated by Coach, there was no bigger fan of this team than me…

To be continued…

It was time to Turn the Page…

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*All characters appearing in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental…