(16) - A Beautilicious Reflection of A Personalized Narrative

I guess in a sense I could say that it all started out at birth because, let's be honest, everything started there, but for sake of writing space and boring all of you with minuscule details of my life I'll just say that it all started with the day that Sister Steadman assigned to write a personal narrative.  I'd have to say that I definitely have learned some new things.  First off I learned the big difference between a personal essay and a personal narrative.  Let's just say that my first draft of this assignment was just me telling everyone about my story rather than showing it with stories, dialogue, and rhetorical tools. My first draft was boring even to me, the person who wrote it.  But thank goodness for critics.  After realizing my deadly error I became more aware of how to create a good personal narrative.  I was able to put more life into a story from my teenage years that truly helped my story come to life.  I realized the importance of helping people get "caught" in my story.  That's what I learned.  Amazing things!

(15) Personal Narrative "I'm In, Coach!"

I’m In, Coach!

“Keep running!  Back cut!  Box out and get the board!”  Those words were magic to my ears.  I heard them on a daily basis running up and down the wooden floors of my high school basketball court.  For the most part as a teenager I really bristled at taking orders and listening to commands.  It seemed to rub me wrong to be bossed around and told what to do.  And I would grow even more frustrated when I was sweaty and my body ached from running ladders and stairs hour after hour during basketball practice.  I swear, my legs were jello.  I don’t think I could have been more tired in my whole life, but for some reason the lips that barked those commands were the only ones I respected.  He was my idol and my hero on and off the court.  Although he was known to some as Greg, we all knew him as Coach Glenn.   He never had to beg for respect.  “Sterling!  Keep running for your life!  Pretend there is a bear chasing you!”  He yelled jokingly with a wide smile that he always wore on his face.  “Will do!” I choked out through laughter. I probably laughed the hardest at his jokes and humor more than at anyone else’s.  But even with a good jovial humor and sometimes a hint of sarcasm, at that point in my life I respected him more than any other.

            Playing basketball was hard for me.  I struggled hard and never was the MVP of the team.  In fact, I probably was on the downside of the talent spectrum.  I’d run, jump, drill, and work my butt off.  Every day at the end of practice we always looked forward to the most dreaded workout of the day, running stairs.  On several occasions when I was upset with the other coaches, for different reasons, I’d stay and run extra stairs even when I wasn’t required to.  I’d do this even when all the other players were packing up to go home.  If I wasn’t running extra stairs I’d stay and shoot free throws until my shoulder and arm ached.  Nevertheless, when it came to our games I never got to play as much as I had hoped to. 

One game I had had enough.  I didn’t play a single second of the game.  At the same time another player who had back-talked and skipped practice got to play because of his talent.  After losing this game the whole team was in the locker room. I was so upset.  Small tears fell from my eyes even though I internally screamed at my body to buck up and hold them in.  At this moment Coach Glenn, sporting his thread-bare Utah Jazz cap, stood up and said, “It seems like none of you wanted to play tonight!  I know that there are some of you that would have given anything to play in the game and put in a better effort.  Sterling, day in and day out, busts his butt in practice.  He kills himself running stairs and working hard but didn’t play a single second tonight.  You all owe it to him and the rest of the team to play your hardest which tonight none of you did.”  I was speechless.  I never thought that he noticed my effort, but I guess I was wrong.

After practice I always solicited extra help from Coach Glenn. 

“What are we going to work on today Sterling?” He’d ask. 

“Let’s do post drills then we’ll have a free throw competition to work on shooting under pressure.” I’d reply.

With lanky arms and long legs Coach Glenn towered over me at over six feet five inches tall.  I always thought that I had an edge on him due to my bulkier, football player size.  Boy was I wrong.  He’d muster up strength out of nowhere and power into me at the post.  I had seen videos of Muhammad Ali, the famous boxer known for his lightning speed.  But he was nothing compared to Coach Glenn.  Coach Glenn was quick!  He would use his power and speed to get to the basket and score.  He never bragged or made me feel inadequate.   We’d always stay late after practice just practicing more.  This always impressed me.  I remember one day I asked him, “Coach Glenn don’t you need to get home to your family and kids?  It is late.”

He’d simply reply, “They aren’t going anywhere. I’ll see them when I see them.” 

He was patient with me and he coached me to the fullest.  He noticed my efforts and yet didn’t give me any special treatment.  To him I was a player just like the rest of the team.  I never was the recipient of any pity party.

            “Are you in?” Coach Glenn would ask before every game.

“I’m in!” I’d exclaim with determination. 

I never loved basketball more than when I was under Coach Glenn’s direction.  He was my wing man.  He never let me down. He was always the guy I could rely on.

“Hey, Coach Glenn, did you hear the one about your mom and how she…..?” One player asked.  It was too common for some of the players to crack dirty jokes that were totally inappropriate.  Coach Glenn calmly replied, “No I haven’t, and quite frankly I don’t want to hear it.  Get back to practicing.”  He always dressed in nice clothes, and his non-involvement in foul humor was just as classy as his attire.  His behavior was clean and tidy.  He was a grade-A stud!

*          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *         

The morning was crisp and cold that day, and so were the doors to Poky High School.  I was tired walking into the building at 6:45 in the morning.  As I reached the top step I was greeted by the Coach Ralphs the head basketball coach.  I expected a warm smile, but this time I was really thrown off as I saw despair and gloom emanating from his eyes.

“Did you hear the news?”  He asked me with his head hung low.  I could do nothing but stare at him in confusion.  I responded with a simple, “No.”  As a teenage boy the following news would soon wreck my world.  My best friend and mentor, Coach Glenn, had tragically passed away due to spinal meningitis.  The friend that I so respected and loved was gone.  I didn’t even have the chance to say goodbye.  My tears started flowing like an uncontrollable waterfall.  I could barely breathe from the sorrow that over swept me.  I was left with a hollow space in my heart.

“You never know what you’ve got ‘til it’s gone.”  Those words from an old song had never meant much to me until this point in my life.  I was left alone and I didn’t know what to do.  I realized just how great Coach Glenn had been to me and for me.  There are not too many people in the world like him.  More than once he had stuck up for me in front of the other coaches by showing them that I had the desire to excel and help the team succeed.  Now he was gone.

Throughout my teenage and young adult years I have encountered situations where my integrity would be challenged.  I vividly remember a time on my mission in which I encountered a situation that tested my moral judgment.  In that moment all I could see in my mind was Coach Glenn’s face and his stern eyes that seemed to challenge me to do the right thing.  I played out in my head what he would have said to me in that moment. 

“Are you in Sterling?”  He asked.

“I’m In, Coach.” I replied.

I left a better man that day on my mission.  I walked away with my head held high.  I did the right thing and I made Coach Glenn proud.

Coach Glenn was a boy at heart but he was more of a man than any other man besides my dad.  I have strived to mirror his example.  And as I have I have lived a happier life due to my trying.  During sad times in my life my friend Coach Glenn has been there to lift me up.  What would the world be like if it were full of people like Coach Glenn?

Perfection isn’t a one-time deal.  It’s a constant effort to be better.  Failure is a means to an end.  If we don’t fall down or face trials in becoming better at something then we are doing something wrong.   This is true with school, with work, and with life in general.  Achievements are reached only after hard work is exerted.  To become a true man one must sacrifice and endure and always strive to be true in one’s actions and words and deeds. This was Coach Greg Glenn to a tee.  While working with me on drills many times I was utterly exhausted and wanted to throw in the towel.  I wanted to go home but he wouldn’t let me.  He would push me to a limit that I didn’t know existed.  He gave me a reason to get better and improve, not only in basketball but in life..  

A song that has always touched my heart expressed my thoughts through it’s lyrics.  The song is “For Good.”

I've heard it said 
That people come into our lives for a reason
Bringing something we must learn
And we are led
To those who help us most to grow 
If we let them
And we help them in return
Well, I don't know if I believe that's true
But I know I'm who I am today
Because I knew you,

And because I knew you

I have been changed for good.”

I definitely have been changed for good knowing Coach Greg Glenn.  I rejoice in having known him.  He will always be an integral part of my life.  In so much that I do and strive to do that is right and good I find myself repeating in my mind and heart, “I’m In, Coach Glenn, I’m In!”