Coachman

As a child I loved to write. Wrote about birds, elves, friends, important events in his life. And my love for paper scribbling writing has been preserved. But suddenly I wanted criticism, so here I am.

-Romka, put the ball down, the game begins.

I remember how then. Baggy jeans, sneakers, a T-shirt tucked as far into his pants as possible, hugging his big belly. A thick mustache was an integral attribute of his appearance, his warm gaze was reminiscent of the sound of the guitar that he loved to play while hiking in the forest. Everyone loved him: students, administration, friends, wife, son.

The son was an athlete, like his father himself in his youth. I loved basketball, but life is too difficult to be the way you want it, so I got into handball. The old man was proud of him, he loved to give an example to us, weak in mind, with wind in our heads, but with love in our hearts for the game and the coach. Sometimes Kucher Jr. came to our training, showed us a couple of tricks, gave some advice, shared his stories, and then we split into teams and gave ourselves completely to the game. The coach sat in the closet, tarred and drank.

There were problems with alcohol, but not https://kingdomcasinouk.org/ always, something knocked him down, and he stuck to the bottle. For life. Everyone knew that Kucher was drinking. Broken capillaries, a slightly shabby appearance and a slight amber – all this gave him away, but we tried not to pay attention, joked, of course, but did not show it in front of him. He was a physical education teacher.

The bell rang, we lined up, made noise – this brought him out. There were screams, swearing, deuces in the magazine, a hundred laps around the small hall, he beat the crap out of us. Afterwards, warm up and play with the ball. He loved basketball, played in the city team as a youth, and contributed to the overall team victory. Therefore, basketball was constantly on – it drove many people out, but my friends and I were happy. After all the exercises with the ball, he divided the class into two teams and everyone played pioneer ball. I was not interested, I went into a closet filled with sports equipment and the smell of acrid smoke that constantly followed Kucher. He lived a very interesting life, as can be seen from his stories, which I loved to listen to while others were playing inferior volleyball. Unfunny jokes in his performance acquired a completely different color, he filled the lives of those around him with bright colors, while this very life was taken away from him. The bell rang.

His wife was also a teacher, she taught music at the most elite school in our small town. I don’t know much about her. Only that when her life was taken in a car accident on a cloudy evening, the whole city cried. The school cried, the relatives cried, the son cried and he. After the news of the death of the music teacher, everyone mistakenly decided that they had lost her, but we also lost him.

I remember that a month before the tragedy, Kucher canceled training and asked us to help his wife and son move linoleum from the store home. The family started a summer renovation. The wallpaper has been torn off, the furniture has been taken out a little less than completely, the linoleum lies in the closet waiting. A month passes – the funeral, the son and father cry. Two more weeks – the son goes back to another city, he has a girlfriend and a job there, and the father is here alone without support, but with a bottle at his disposal.

We had already graduated from school, training had stopped, but he still came to our competitions. His support was important for us, he gave instructions before the game, although he was no longer a coach.

Over time you forget everything. Basketball is now only on the monitor, less often on the street with friends. Spring, meeting with classmates, we sit and remember, and here:

-Do you remember our physical teacher? I saw him here the other day. Completely gray, and he’s not even fifty yet,
can barely move, says he has cirrhosis of the liver. Sad.

Really. We sat in silence for about ten seconds and the seething continued. We forgot.