Laidback & Co.

Jakarta, Indonesia 1989 My dictionary told me COACH came from the Middle English coche, which came from the German Kutsche, which came from the Hungarian kocsi—wagon from the town of Kocs. It defined COACH as one who conveys students through examinations or competitive events. It explained why I talked to myself so much. I carried my kids around in my head all SEASAL season. SEASAL was the clever acronym administrators with time on their hands used for the South East Asian Sports and Arts League. The League brought together schools from Indonesia, Singapore, Malaysia, Taiwan, Thailand and the Philippines to compete in; volleyball, cross-country running, soccer, basketball, swimming, tennis, softball, track & field, assorted fine and performing arts and forensics. Talking to myself gave me the chance to talk to my kids before I talked to my kids. “September’s gonna go more quickly than it came.” “Twenty-seven days before SEASAL, this year.” “God only had six.” “God didn’t have Walter on his back.” Walter Kant was our Athletic Director. His eyes were windows on his soul—his abject, long-suffering soul. Sweating profusely whether inside or out, Walter was the picture of an out-of-shape ex-coach trying hard to look like a mid-level administrator. Like the Weeble he resembled, Walter wobbled, but he didn’t fall down. I was not Walter’s first choice for coach. His last coach, Ron Armbruster, had quit after winning a championship. I coached the Junior Varsity team. As next in line, I got the job. When I didn’t win in Taipei, Walter began looking for a new coach. His tired eyes blamed me for his problems as he watched from the bleachers. I tried to ignore him as I tried out new players. Talking to myself always helped.