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A-HOLE COACH DIGEST: “Fifty Hot Ones Comin’ At Ya!”

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Welcome to Asshole Coach Digest, where we regale you Deadspin folk with stories of the meanest, cruelest, most batshit insane coaches you ever had. Email me your asshole coach story here. Off we go.

Mr. Bean


In the 4th grade, I was playing for a baseball league in which the coaches pitched, but against the opposing side. I suppose this was to make things "fair." Generally, all the coaches threw what I estimate were 50mph fastballs in various locations and would not play defense after the pitch.

Our team wasn't that great, but we weren't the Bad News Bears either. About halfway through the season, we are playing a game at our home field. I believe it was the top of the 4th inning when one of these 9-year-olds who was about 5 foot 5 inches and 140 pounds already hit a triple. The next kid was barely able to bunt, but he did. Our first baseman charged the bunt and threw the ball to the catcher, who was subsequently absolutely LEVELED by Yeti 9-year-old guy. Probably a little over the top for this league, but everyone came out unscathed, more or less.

Fast forward to the top the 6th inning, and John Kruk, Jr. is up to bat again. My coach sizes him up and then beans him. Not a brush-back pitch, not something that "got away from him," an absolute beaning. The kid is writhing in agony and screaming bloody murder. Turns out that my coach actually BROKE HIS RIB, with malice and aforethought.

Our team's parents all gathered around after the ambulance left and decided that none of us would be playing for this team for the rest of the season.

/end of my baseball career

Coach Coughlin likes the cut of this guy's jib


Being D-III we didn't have big travel budgets so we took a bus. We played a small school in central Iowa. After the game HC allowed anyone with family in attendance to eat with them and then catch up with the team later. The only rule was that they had to be back at the hotel before 7pm (the time the bus left). Well, this trip we lost and HC was pissed.. over the course of dinner he only got madder and before we had finished eating he decided he was sick of us and it was time to go. We left at 6:30ish... I'm sure you can see what happened. We left a running back in Iowa with his grandma who was from the area. The kid had to fly back. When the RB got back the coach screamed at him about missing the bus and he (the HC) couldn't be responsible for that sort of shit.


Here and on! Brown and out!


I was on a Little League team that had five, count 'em FIVE, coaches for a roster of twelve kids ages 9 thru 12. Our tyrannical "manager" would conduct 6 practices a week until the season started and then would sometimes hold practice after games if we didn't meet his expectations.

Before every practice roll call was taken. We would all line up in alphabetical order and he would call out our names. There were only two responses he wanted to hear. "Here!" or preferably "Here and on!" If you said "Here", you would be running laps all practice. If you said "Here and on", one of his lackey assistants would hit you in the balls with the handle end of a baseball bat in order to see if you were telling the truth about being "on," aka wearing your cup.

The very first practice we got the message. The first kid called said "Here and on" because he didn't want to run and paid for it with a shot to the nuts. Every day for an entire season I was subjected to the humiliation of a grown man whacking me in the cup with the knob of a baseball bat.

Best dad in the world?


There were rumors of Coach's infidelity before I even knew what the word meant. There were rumors of him sleeping with this teacher or that person's wife or whatever.

However, once the truth came to light, we found out that Coach took things to a whole other level of assholishness. Coach was boning a sophomore girl. He was caught by the night janitor after football practice.

During the discovery process of his trial, more than 150 current or former students came forth to testify that Coach had sexually harassed them in some way, shape or form. What's even neater is that some of the harassments had been covered up by the school's principal and athletic director. He was convicted and sentenced to prison where he served four years.

One other caveat, this whole sex scandal happened during Coach's oldest son's senior year. Coach's son also happened to be the starting quarterback and, somehow, a heck of a nice kid. Thanks for the graduation gift, Dad.


But you didn't get to practice the Gatorade bath?


Our first game ended in a tie. Big Asshole coach brought a dictionary to our next practice and had each kid read the definition of "tie" out loud and passed the Webster's to the next kid. We did this until the Webster's was no longer needed and we could recite the definition without using the dictionary. He also made a kid take off his Washington Redskins sweatshirt and spit and stomp on it since we were playing a team of 10/11 year olds called the Redskins.

Mid-season I had to leave early from practice since I had a religious class to go to. One of those classes your parents sign you up for and you have to go. My mom was in charge of driving me and another kid to class. This other kid was not on the team and my mom sent him to the practice field to come get me. Little asshole chased him away coach saying "this field is for football players." I went to Big Asshole and told him I was leaving for a class at church. He blew his whistle and told the team to circle around me. He tells the team I am leaving practice early to go to church. He then asks me "make a decision right now! Football....or God?" I did not know what the fuck was going on. I told him "that ain't hard" and left.

Finally, our season culminated in a championship game between the only unbeaten teams in the league. The final week of practice Big Asshole coach made us practice carrying him off the field. He said "This is what you guys are going to do to me when we win Saturday." Each day after practice it was "see if you can carry me farther than you did yesterday." The very last practice we manage to carry him 20 yards before we collapse.


Let that tussin soak in


While spending a prominent amount of time on the sideline, I overheard coach tell my best friend in a critical (as critical as a junior high football game could be) moment of the fourth quarter he would be fine and was sent back in. To my horror, my friend clearly had a bone protruding from his forearm. This friend's family was out of town at the time, so rather than help the kid or you know, bring him to the ER, coach told him to soak it in a mixture of ice water and salt.




Our fielding practices started with taking ground balls without our gloves (and I'm not talking about gently rolling the ball) after which we'd take our positions and go through a regular "infield". His son was at third base and the first ball hit to him went right threw his legs, enraged coach hit another ball except this time it was twice as hard and he jumped out of the way. Now he was really pissed at the words that came out of his mouth will never be forgotten by anyone on that field. "FIFTY HOT ONES COMING AT YA!"

He proceeded to take a full bucket of balls and hit screaming one hoppers and line drives at his defenseless son at third base. He tried to deflect the first few but they were coming too hard and fast. All he could do was curl up into a fetal position as balls whizzed by his head and occasionally ricocheted off various parts of his body. We all stood and watched frozen with fear as this homicidal manic our parents trusted to teach and nurture drilled deadly weapons at his son. Now you may think this would be considered child abuse but this was the 80's and you'd have to drag your kid behind your car in front of a police station and maybe someone would say something.

Amazingly before the season started the returning parents tried to get him kicked out of the league but MY father stood up and basically said "Do you want your boys to grow up to be pussies". So if anyone ever yells "FIFTY HOT ONES COMING AT YOU!" run fast and far away.


Oh, now that's clearly not true. Shame on you, Bob


John Wooden raped me. Twice.

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