I suppose many make a rhyming attempt from time to time...that poetry try.
Coach or Caretaker
A lifetime of coaching perched on a bench,
My mentor once told me it would not be a cinch.
Season after season would come and leave,
The mission unchanging, we had to achieve.
Some teams so talented blessed with skill,
While others would struggle like climbing a hill.
Winning many games was never enough,
So often you hear, you're using the wrong stuff.
An angry shout from a frantic dad,
Made family and friends uncomfortable and sad.
Tournament pressures and game of the week,
They were not designed for the tender or meek.
Nearly one thousand games now gone by,
The old Coach reflects and wonders why?
Surely not for glory, trophies or wins,
He was simply a caretaker making boys into men.
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