I was a tall guy and matched Coach’s height, but my frame was still pretty lean. Telling myself I was just admiring, imagining getting big like him the more I lifted. I had a hard time keeping my eyes off Coach’s half-naked, very muscular body. For late December that felt pretty damn nice. We got there midday and spent the first afternoon sunning and swimming. But it was also a desire to get out of my small town, to see something else.Ĭoach had booked us a vacation rental a block from the beach.
If I had any self-awareness I’d realize it was a major case of puppy love. I was anticipating the trip the whole next month.
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I mean, within a week Coach sent me the plane ticket for a full week down in Tampa. Coach M was a persuasive guy, I knew, but wow.
I shouldn’t have been surprised that my parents were on board, but I was. If it works out, great, if not, maybe I can set up a phone call with those South Florida coaches.” “But I’m not sure my parents would agree.” “Sounds good, Coach,” I said, feeling a lot hesitant. Not an away game, not a chaperoned school trip, just us. I was an aimless 18-year-old, I suppose, and Coach sensed I could use some direction. I wasn’t going to be D-1 scholarship material, but if Coach had an in, that meant I could play ball in a decent program, at least as backup. I have a couple of contacts at South Floria and you could take a look at their program… I’d cover the expenses” Maybe I could convince your folks to let you join me…. “Well, it’s not New York, but I have some time planned in Florida the week after Christmas. But the real reason is that my family didn’t have the money to send me off to New York City with my classmates over winter break.Ĭoach nodded. “I guess I’m not a joiner.” I had some good friends at school but wasn’t into clubs or organized anything, beyond football. “You going on that senior trip, Bentley?” he asked one day during third period, using my last name as he often did. But I think he was just operating from his ulterior motives. But I also knew I’d have Coach’s companionship to remember as I went off to better things than Carthage High. The end of my last football season, then later graduation. I told myself if I was imagining a strong dude like him fucking some bimbo cheerleader at our school, it was because I wanted to be John Myers, not be with him. He’d been a tight end in his college days and still had that frame and build. I told myself I was just admiring a grown, masculine man. I didn’t even fully admit I was gay, not even when I got home to the privacy of my bedroom each day and jerked out a thick load fantasizing about Coach Myers. I still hadn’t come to terms with being gay. But mostly it was him and me, sitting in his office and talking sports, and life, and my college plans. He’d have me do a few tasks, maybe put up some equipment. But Coach M always treated me like a buddy, keeping me at arm’s length during practice but chatting with me all during the third period “teacher’s aide” assignment I had with Coach. I wasn’t even the star player, since Jason Edwards, a junior, was a better quarterback than me and usually our starter. I just knew I looked up to Coach Myers and followed him around like a puppy dog.