~Rex Hudson, Class of 2025
Every practice my coach Whined
Standing there on that soccer field
In his irritating Irish accent
“Rex, It’s not good enough”
When I was already giving
110%
He thinks I’m made In a laboratory,
a perfect boy
With no flaws
Critiquing me, Pestering me
Pushing me over the edge
Making me question why I love this game
I despise that coach
My old friend tried to warn me,
I Didn’t listen
Every practice he tore off pieces of the
Love I have for soccer out of my body
Like stealing candy from
A little kid
He stood there
The lousy grin that he wore
With his old man white hair
Even though he’s 40 Years old,
Paired with his whiny Irish accent
He tortures kids with
Making them forget why
They wanted to play soccer
In the first place
I hate that coach.
It made me realize
One Coach can ruin your
Genuine love of the sport
Don’t let a negative force
Define what you know
You are and what you want to be
Wow Rex! I loved all of your personification, and how it made the poem better. I’m happy you still love soccer, and stopped playing for him. Nice work!
I loved this, Rex. hearing this in person was truly inspiring, and I know everyone else in the room was thrilled by your work! Great job!