Ronald Moran, Legacy of a Coach

Ronald Moran

In my high school, the football coach taught
and my senior year he made us stand, side
by side,
the toes of our Keds on the out-of bounds
most wearing mismatched shorts and t-shirts,
all misfits

he called us, because we did not play football
thus had to take gym in the fall/winter term.
He stood
at the vertex of his isosceles triangle, maybe
thirty feet in front of us, caressing a softball
like a lover,

while explaining his version of dodge ball:
throwing it
hard as he could, at randomly chosen targets.
Once hit,
if not already floored, we had to sit, nursing
in silence, while the last of us standing, neither

nor bloodied, to be rewarded by exempting
for the rest of the school year, with the grade
of A.
As the coach wound up, as if he were pitching
we sat down, later calling it passive resistance,
much later.

One thought on “Ronald Moran, Legacy of a Coach

  1. Nothing like learning the lesson the way my father would have—“too soon old and too late smart” having been one of his favorite expressions. The poem is simply grand: I especially love the wry not of the closing

    Phebe Davidson

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