sign up or log in for additional features. (It's free!)
I remember coach well. He was awful to me. Hell, he was awful to everybody. He didn’t play favorites, but he singled me out every day. He used to yell at me. Swear at me. One time he called out my eye roll in front of everybody. I’ll never forget that man. Or that I owe all my success to him.
By Meagan on 06.10.2013
Something that you sat on, preferably at the back, with friends, on a long trip to the coast in the long, long ago!
By Helen Carleton on 06.10.2013
I was running and then my coach said run faster i cried and said my legs fell off and it really hurts. He said he will never succeed with excuses. I cried and failed. im a failure.
By bob on 06.10.2013
A bumpy ride in the coach was typical. I found a simple adjustment on the auxiliary fore spring and mid suspension damping magnets smooths the ride out considerably. Now if I could just get this blasted contraption to blast off Mars.
By Sir Profligacy URL on 06.10.2013
una paraula que significa felicitat, una estada perfecte amb mínim pressupost, anar a l’aventura, sense plans ni reserves.
By jordi on 06.10.2013
A very dedicated man. I cannot see myself anywhere today without his support. I would very much like to thank him for all the great times we had.
By Abdzo on 06.10.2013
I was corrected by a rough voice.
” Oh.” I said weakly. I’ll try again, I thought.
” I can get it this time.”
I was given hesitant looks as I walked lifelessly, my back to everyone. They couldn’t see the disappointment on my face.
By Annee on 06.10.2013
A Leader in a time that you need them most. Inspirational person that encourages you and allows you to be the best version of yourself. The one you look up to and idolize and aspire to impress. The guy you look at when you do good
By Catie Farrell on 06.10.2013
coach, the boat is
as my load
because its heavy
falls down the road.
By Fabric Spell in Ushe URL on 06.10.2013
So, today, I though I wouldn’t sit with them. Just to spite.
I thought they might react. Maybe come down to my end “Oh, we’re sorry, please please sit with us” and I’d feel powerful, and consider saying “No”, and see how they like it, but they didn’t. So I listened to my Ipod instead.
By Katie on 06.10.2013
“I’ll coach you,” said the man standing beside me, a lute on his hands; he had stopped playing for a while now and was most interested in the conversation I was having with Farkas.
“I’m fine, thank you.” I tried sounding the less rude I could, but it still came out as rude.
By Aileen on 06.10.2013
So, I thought, maybe I won’t sit with them today. Just to spite.
I thought maybe they’d react, say “oh were sorry, please sit with us” and I’d feel all powerful and consider saying “NO!” and I’D be the one in charge for a change, but they didn’t. So I listened to my iPod instead.
By Katie Kessler on 06.10.2013
I think of a train, which is great, because I love trains in every way. They symbolize freedom for me in many ways, in the most basic way because they take me to New York City. In the most romantic, important way though…they bring Alastair. and take him :( that is the badness
By Sophia on 06.10.2013
The journey are fun, my boyfriend gets a coach to school, I get the bus. We live the other side of the town from each other so it’s nice when I get to see him. I go on coach’s on school trips. It’s quite nice to sit and chat with your friend or merrily listen to music, I’ve had many a memorable coach trip with my best friends. I wish we could have more but that won’t be anymore.
By Laurel on 06.10.2013
Two sat inside a library, one drawing and one conversing with a sibling on another table nearby. The silent one of the duo kept her head low and silenced her breathing, even more than usual, and delicately hung onto her friend’s every syllable.
She was speaking Nepali with her 5’8″ brother and occasionally let out a strange sound, usually accompanied by giggles. The artist’s insides warmed when she heard her laugh, not out of romance or attraction, but, she only was basking in soft radiance. She stole glimpses from behind a curtain beyond-shoulder length, ash blonde hair.
The artist flinched when she started to speak in English towards her again.
By Meg URL on 06.10.2013
Two sat inside a library, one drawing whilst intently listening to her friend’s attempts to coach her into learning the basics of written Korean.
She paused for a second and apologised, and began conversing with a sibling on another table nearby. The silent one of the duo kept her head low and silenced her breathing, even more than usual, and delicately hung onto her friend’s every syllable.
She was speaking Nepali with her 5’8″ brother and occasionally let out a strange sound, often accompanied by giggles. The artist’s insides warmed when she heard her laugh, not out of romance or attraction, but, only basked in her soft radiance. She stole glimpses of her foreign friend’s rounded-square face from behind a curtain beyond-shoulder length, ash blonde hair.
He was an older man, not very bright for his age. In his time teaching anything, even gym, had been kind of a respected profession. He hadn’t thought anything of it. Now, he saw the looks the kids gave him. As if he wasn’t very bright. As if he wasn’t worth something. In his day children played. These children did nothing but whine.
By Chi Obasi on 06.10.2013
coach coach coach coach coach coach coach coach coach coach coach coach coach coach coach coach coach coach coach coach coach coach coach coach coach coach coach coach coach coach coach coach coach coach coach
By Natalia on 06.10.2013
Mohammed doesn’t much think of Anton as his mentor. When they’re pulling out teeth together there’s only two things he can think of – that crunchy sound, and the wet noises of the freshly-dead. Today, though – he glances next to him and Anton sits there giving him such an intense stare with a pair of tongs in the one hand and a golden molar in the other. “Keep it,” he says. “Put it on a chain. Wear it to remind yourself.”
And what can Mohammed do? He keeps the molar. He puts it on a chain. He reminds himself.
By Anne URL on 06.10.2013
When I first pushed her down on the grass she thought I was showing her how to tackle an opponent.
I was not.
Then again, I did teach her something that day.
By CH☆M URL on 06.10.2013
“YOU LOST! You’ll never be anything but a loser, Miss Cardeth, and I don’t want a loser on my team.”
This is my basketball coach. He’s a short little man with greasy, dull brown hair displayed in a comb over. His face is covered in wrinkles and constantly red, which makes him appear far older than he is, but I suppose a lifetime of yelling will do that to a man. He also has a bit of a belly, but no one would ever dare point it out if they want to stay alive.
My parents always tell me to suck it up. He does this because he knows how much I care about basketball and he wants me to have a future in it. But if he really did, would he push me so past the point of exhaustion that I pass out? Would he bully me to the point where I leave practice in tears and spend my spare time screaming at myself? Wouldn’t he for once, just once, tell me I did well, rather than beat me up even when I know that I was better than ever?
He isn’t coaching me to be the best at basketball, he’s coaching me to believe I could never reach such heights.
I’ve made up my mind.
I’m quitting his game
And going to play basketball.
By Ebony Bird URL on 06.10.2013
I always thought it would be easy. I didn’t need to think, I didn’t need to plan ahead. I had other people doing that for me. Someone to get me through my workouts, someone to tell me what to eat, to tell me how to live my life. I reffered to it as my life coach, even if it was just a voice inside my head.
By Amy on 06.10.2013
Nothing was going my way. Nothing. I couldn’t do anything write. My family tried to be there for me, tried to help but the ony time I felt truly calm was in the pool. Legs kicking, arms aching from pushing their way through the water, lungs aching and gasping for one more breath. The coach always pushed me hard, never let me quit. He thought he was encouraging me to swim, not encouraging me to live.
By Amy P. URL on 06.10.2013
I don’t understand why people obsess over coach bags. I think it’s simply a self-confidence thing as is purchasing any name brand. I thought about that earlier. I mean, the only reason I want to dress nice is to be confident about my self and make those around me see my approach-ability and the fact that I want to make them desire that sort of confidence for themselves as well and that it’s attainable! That’s why we desire this type of self expression in the first place I think. If I had money to pursue it I would. In a heart beat.
By Becca on 06.10.2013
LIfe Coach emotional balance,relationships, self Love For women looking to have it all and are unsure
By Racquel V Singleton-Quiney URL on 06.10.2013
My swimming coach is kinda awkward.
By Jason URL on 06.10.2013
The coach screamed at me. My coach is awful. He’s fat. He’s loud. He never gives me a chance to rest. He makes me work and work and work. I never get time to do anything that I want. My coach always gives me such a hard time. He never treats anyone else like he treats me. He treats me awful. He’s terrible. He hates me. My coach is awful. And he’s the reason why I’m swimming for the Olympics.
By Sarah URL on 06.10.2013
i get on one of these when i need to travel cheaply because the train costs too much. i enjoy listening to my mp3 and looking out the window. The seats usually have crazy colours and u dont wanna get sat near the toilet. i like going places when i can.
By leanne on 06.10.2013
“I’ll coach you through but you have to do this.”
“But I can’t-”
“Yes, you can. I KNOW you can. You CAN do this, Amy. You can be the hero.”
She nodded, shakily at first and then with more vigor. “Ok.” she wiped at her eyes. “What do I have to do?”
By S.C. Lovelace URL on 06.10.2013
“Keep your head up when you tackle!” he shouted. If there was one point he tried to drive home, it was for the kids to keep their head up when they tackled.
By Chris Clow URL on 06.10.2013
stop. go. leave. What is it that keeps us widening our gap? I want to say it’s nothing severe but..
By Meg on 06.10.2013
She spend hours working, days saving, weeks counting and now it hangs off from her arm like a symbol of glory.
You save for the big things. You work for the large.
When you have it, there is sweet victory.
By Tans URL on 06.10.2013
He sat her down in a chair in front of his, then sat back and steepled his fingers, watching her quietly as she tried to find the words.
“Deep breath.” he ordered, as she opened and then closed her mouth.
“Now, tell me what it is.”
“No need to be afraid.” he said, “I’m not going to hurt you, nor, if that’s what you’re thinking of, am I going to get angry.”
Her eyes met his.
By Maria URL on 06.10.2013
A coach is an individual that guides a team. He is the adult leader of said team and attempts to bring the team into success; however, his primary responsibility to training and creating a team out of a group of individuals within the same extra curricular activity.
By Whitney on 06.10.2013
Coach. You are not a coach. You are a dreamer. That is it. Nothing more. You can’t lead. All you do is dream and follow. A waste. You destroy with your dreams. You are…. A nightmare.
By Layla on 06.10.2013
The luggage rattled in the back seat of the Subaru.
“I hate that we’re doing this.”
Peter was angry in the passenger seat, distraught.
“Flying coach. Are you kidding?”
He shook his head when I put my hand on his shoulder.
Belle sighed. She turned her face to the window and watched the airport get closer.
By Hannahey URL on 06.10.2013
Cinderella had her coach but the only problem was at midnight,
it turned back to a pumpkin. We must still believe in magic and
it will work if you follow instructions. Be home by midnight!
By Robin on 06.10.2013
I haven’t even started to talk and he’s already becoming my speech coach! I just wanted a little advice as to how many words are in a typical 3 minute speech. A litany of advice along with suggestions that he is willing to coach me on abounded within seconds. Yeesh. Next time I’ll ask for a website.
By Babette on 06.10.2013
i write about how the sun sails in through the window like a soaking paper boat, shaking as its bow becomes waterbloated and sick. i pull the curtains closed, they are yellow and the leaves on them scintillate with the turning of each corner like tiny hallucinations. this is a journey into sleep i take alone
By Katia URL on 06.10.2013
By April URL on 06.10.2013
a division of Identity Crisis, Inc.