Pack up your shit and go meet Mr. Johnson

"Hey Kaleb, Coach wants to see me, thanks asshole.", you say as you make your way off the field.

"Ha fucker, don't go getting cut now with 3 weeks to go in our shit season, that would break my heart." Kaleb says with as much sarcasm as he could muster. As you make your way toward the locker room doors, you turn and say, "Yeah yeah, I'll make it quick and meet you at the car." With a heavy swing, the doors open to the men's locker room full of guys throwing their practice gear in a laundry bin and stripping down for the showers after a regular practice. You take off your gear, throw your equipment in the locker and start making your way toward the showers.

"PATRICK, IN HERE, NOW." You jump at the obviously too loud for a locker room roar from the coach's office. "Sir, I got a towel on and heading to the shower."

"DO I LOOK LIKE A GIVE A DAMN? HERE, NOW." The retort and echo made the guys around you laugh and jeer you on. With a heavy annoyed sigh, you head into the office.

Coach Johnson sits behind a budget desk, budget computer, and budget... well everything else. Except he sits with high end Under Armor clothing. It really states where the high school sets it's money within the budget. Survive education, thrive the sports. In the background, Coach has the radio on with "Pour Some Sugar On Me - Def Leppard" playing.

"Yes sir, I'm here." You vaguely cover your hiss saying. "Patrick, do you ever feel like a failure? Between you and your brothers, why is it that I'm always having a problem with you?" He flatly and lowly asks you, completely different than his normal roaring. Taken aback, you say, "What do my brothers have to do with my performance? I've been good all year."

"That's the problem Patrick, you've been 'good'. Patrick, both your brothers are GREAT." Coach gave way too much emphasis on 'great' for your liking. "Your brothers are MEN." Again... not liking the emphasis. You don't know what exactly to say and would rather just leave.

"Sometimes Patrick, I feel like you'd be better off cheering on your brothers than playing with them. Here, take this and think about your work on the field. Maybe this will fit you better.", Coach Johnson throws you a bag. You open it to see a weirdly fitting cheerleading outfit. "What the fuck am I suppose to do with this?", you burst out. "Patrick, let's face it, you can either figure it out, or find yourself on the sidelines and when you're on my sidelines, you might as well through this on and cheer us on, because you ARE NOT going to play for me." A rage building within you, but there was something underneath it. You felt helpless and sad that he may be right. You don't feel like saying anything, but also feel like screaming.

"I've got a deal though." Coach growls. "Our season is sunk. We both know that, you're not going to college for football, and these will be your last 3 games." You feel like there's something terrible coming. "Now we both know you're no man compared to your brothers. So we can make it official here and now. Then we never have to talk about it again, and you get to play your last precious 3 games." You wonder what the fuck he's talking about.

"Put it on."