Gemotions

Coach Ramirez stared out the window, the rain mirroring the gloom he felt inside. He’d promised himself, when he took on this role, that he would never lose sight of what it felt like to be a kid with a dream. He knew this would be hard.

He heard a soft knock. Mark, his star player’s younger brother, stood in the doorway, his face pale. Coach Ramirez gestured him in, wishing there was some other way. He recalled Mark’s dedication, the hours he’d spent practicing, the way he’d always been the last to leave the court.

Mark fidgeted, his eyes darting around the office. Coach Ramirez found himself struggling to meet his gaze. He pictured Mark’s hopeful smile, the way he looked at his older brother, the way he looked at the game.

“Mark,” he began, his voice barely a whisper. He explained his decision, focusing on the team’s needs, trying to soften the blow. He ended by attempting to offer some encouragement. His own throat was tight, as if he himself had been cut.