Pink Drawers
The first year I was a head coach, a friend of mine told me that our rival coach told his team if they lost to us they would have to wear pink drawers. I started laughing. I told her to go out and “buy the biggest pair of pink drawers you can find.”
And then I waited.
Our rival game was a big deal in middle school. Since the two middle schools fed into the high school, bragging rights for the next four years lay on the line. The game was the most heavily attended. 300 people easily came to see the two schools square off. It took place during Spirit Week and the day of the Fall Pep Rally. It was the middle school equivalent of Homecoming. High school students would attend to watch their old schools play. The high school coaches attended to get a feel for potential players. It was a big deal.
And I threw up before every one of them.
This game, being my first rival game as the head coach, was probably the best. It was a dogfight. Our defense won the game for us. During the second half, our defense was backed up to our own 4 yard line and managed to hold the opponents. Then after a fumble, the defense had to do it all again. The final score was 8-6.
After the game, the rival coach cut through his own players’ line to avoid shaking hands with me. (I didn’t think anything of it until he proceeded to do it during the next four years.) No matter. I ended up sending him the pink drawers, which I signed, “Coach Majstoravich PS I wear boxers.” The drawers were big enough for me to fit all this in. I never found out what he said, or whether he or his offensive line coach ever wore them.
I only thought about the incident whenever we played his team. He cussed me out the year before my final year as a coach. He did this right after the game in front of the fans and my team. He thought I was trying to run up the score on him. I wasn’t, but he wouldn’t have known that. It’s hard to see inside the mind of a coach.
The last year I coached, one of my boys asked me about the story during our team huddle the day before the game. I declined to comment. I waved off the question and didn’t think any more of it until the next day when my team reported to my classroom for study hall. They straggled in, as always. And they were wearing pink. Every single one of them.
“Did you guys raid your sisters’ closets or something?” I asked.
“No, we wanted Grover to know we don’t care that you’re female,” Jock replied.
“We support you,” echoed Jeremy.
I had to fight it, but I could feel myself tearing up. When you least expect it as a teacher (or coach), students come through for you. Throughout the rest of the year, I would run into families who would mention this. One mother thought the team was showing its support for breast cancer research! The fans were touched when they realized that these players wore pink for me.
We won that game: 14-8. And you know what? After the game, Coach finally shook my hand.
