Bad Dog

Last night I had a bad dream about my college softball coach. I dreamt that she kicked me off the team at the beginning of my senior year, and I was trying to get the Athletic Department to honor my scholarship through my senior year because my coach is crazy as a shit-house rat. Now that part of the dream was all made up...that didn't happen in real life (well except for the crazy as a shit-house rat...that was true.) However, in my dream during this investigation by the Athletic Department....all of the horrific stories of crappy things she did to me... were 100% true. I dreamt I was in some room with a bright light having to re-live those true things she did to me. I think I had this dream because I told my parents last night at dinner that I was going back to a college reunion at the end of April

Let me just get this right out in the open by saying my college coach HATED me. Our team mascot was the Bulldogs. My team lovingly called me BAD DOG. Anyway.

Here's one of the true stories. Flashback to 1991. My freshman year. My coach comes into practice in a really bad mood. Since it's still winter outside, we are practicing inside the Field House. Coach decides to line us all up in a single file line and one at a time rapid fire sharp ground balls at us....one right after the other....about 15 in a row. If you missed ONE...or over-threw the base, you had to go to the back of the line and do it again. Certain players really struggled with this. I didn't. I picked up everything she shot at me....and threw it to the base perfectly....which worked her up into this nasty frenzy. She told me that I got to do it again....so I went to the back of the line and waited my turn. When it was my turn again she told me to move up about 5 feet closer to her...so that the balls would be harder and faster. Fine. And this time instead of keeping them reasonably close to me...she was firing them to my wide right....then to my wide left.... over and over. I was driving for the ball, picking it up and throwing it to the base. Over and over again. Well, my horrible left knee gave out on me and I fell to the ground. I tried and tried to get up...but my knee wouldn't hold up. Coach didn't stop firing ground balls at me.... the balls were hitting me over and over again....in the face, in the back, in the leg. Everywhere. My team was standing there in amazement. Our trainer Frank was trying to get to me to help me up and to look at my knee...and she was even hitting HIM with balls. Finally he screamed at her to stop. She freaked and threw the bat and screamed for me to get the hell out of there. Gladly. I grabbed my stuff and left. I called my parents....balling hysterically. Only dogs and dolphins would able to understand the squeaky voice. LOL. They told me I could quit if I wanted to. The CSU coach still wanted me to come up there and play...full ride. I cried all night. I loved my school. I loved my teammates. I didn't want to give up. I didn't want that BITCH to win.

The next day, I went to coach's office to talk to her. She screamed at me for about 15 minutes and threw a file of about 500 player profiles on her desk, who according to her, wanted my scholarship. She screamed some more. I just sat there quiet. After she was done ranting. She asked me what I wanted. I said, "I want to go to practice." She yelled "FINE!" I said "FINE!" And I showed up at practice. And she ignored me....for weeks.

Two days later I got a huge packet in the mail from my parents. It was my scholarship offer, my application for enrollment (all filled out) and a check for moving expenses and my first few months rent in Ft. Collins. I took a thumb tack and hung it on my wall. That packet was my inspiration. I hung it up on the wall every year after that.... the day that I graduated...I took it down and threw it away. I had won.

Years later I was back in Des Moines for a college reunion. A bunch of my teammates and I were getting our nails done at a salon owned by a woman who was married to a man who was a huge financial donor to the college. Hell, our softball field was named after him. My teammates started teasing me and calling me BAD DOG. We were all laughing as they were telling stories of horrible things that coach did to me. The woman who owned the salon looked at me after about 5 stories and said, "Emily is this all true?" I said, "Yes, and this is just the beginning." She replied, "Well, I don't think Ron would donate money to a program with a coach like that." I shrugged. A month later a huge investigation into her conduct was done. She was fired shortly after. She got hers....and I got mine. I got a free education and friends for a lifetime.