overheard this conversation on the fields sunday -
Parent: *Coach Chanenchuck, did you order the team to and win and not play equal playing time?
Coach Lynott: You don't have to answer that question!
MC: I'll answer the question!
MC: You want answers?
Parent: I think I'm entitled to.
MC: You want answers?
Parent: I want the truth!
MC: You can't handle the truth!
MC: We live in a world that has fields, and those fields have to be guarded by men with lacrosse sticks. Who's gonna do it? You? You, Daddy Richpants? I have a greater responsibility than you could possibly fathom. You weep for the kids on the bench, and you curse the Express. You have that luxury. You have the luxury of not knowing what I know. That unbalanced playing time, while tragic, probably wins games. And my existence, while grotesque and incomprehensible to you, you win games with the better players in the game. You don't want the truth because deep down in places you don't talk about at parties, you want me on that sideline, you need me on that sideline. We use words like equal, fair, fun. We use these words as the backbone of a life spent spoiling your kids. You use them as a punchline. I have neither the time nor the inclination to explain myself to a man who rises and sleeps under dreams of scholarships that I provide, and then questions the manner in which I provide it. I would rather you just said thank you, pay your tuition and went on your way, Otherwise, I suggest you pick up a whistle, and stand on the sideline. Either way, I don't give a damn what playing time you think your kid is entitled to.
