I am writing in response to your letter on the 18th December regarding your son’s decision to quit the team. Please note, I have said here that it was your son’s decision and as such, I won’t be referring to it as my “vendetta against Doug just because he’s going to be a star.”
Miss Harris, I won’t deny that your son has talent. He’s one of the finest players I’ve seen in a long time and I’ve been coaching this for nearly thirty years now. He has the potential to go all the way, if he were to put his mind to it. He plays all positions well and could even move through to captaincy. At no point have I said “he’s shit and he ain’t never gonna be no good.” I have encouraged and led him as best I could.
I feel that it is my responsibility to all my students to encourage them. To lead them and to give them focus. Your letter following your son’s departure, along with other letters of their ilk, render me unable to do so. You convince your child that a little hardship is bad for them. You convince them that challenge is the enemy. Your son could be a star, yes, but he still needs to work. It doesn’t matter how much natural ability someone has, they will not make it unless they work.
Now, I encouraged your son to stay with us. I told him that I could help him go pro, but he needed to change his attitude. He couldn’t believe that everything was going to be handed to him. Not in this sport, nor in life. It would appear that he took offence at this and chose to leave.
Miss Harris, Doug is a gifted lad. Because of that fact, he has chosen to believe he can do what he likes. He has chosen to treat people however he feels, instead of how they should be treated. I told him that he had two choices. He could act like a goddamn human being, or he could leave my team.
He chose to leave my team.
Miss Harris, you are entitled to your belief and I am entitled to mine. I believe your son can be the best, once he learns to work as part of a team. Until then, I believe that your son’s only place with this team is as far away as possible.
Arno Galt, Head Coach
P.S. I do not appreciate being referred to by any of the vile slurs in your letter. I can only imagine the home life that produced a boy like Doug, but I believe it helped make him the man he is today. They say that you can’t choose your family, but you can choose your friends. Hopefully Doug will choose better friends than you.
Arno looked at the letter he had written, next to the vile missive he had received from Miss Harris. This was the letter he wanted to write, the one he’d send if only he were brave enough. He sighed and screwed up the piece of paper in his bruised and battered hands. He chose another blank piece, picked up his pen and began again.
Dear Miss Harris…
The Idiot in Tin Foil