You tell him off and leave

"What the fuck?" You exclaim while you step back toward the exit.

"Man, fuck this team, and fuck you 'Coach'!" you continue. "I am not putting this shit on, and I'm not playing for you anymore. This is stupid as hell."

"PATRICK, YOUR DECISION WILL DECIDE EVERYTHING FROM THIS MOMENT ON." Coach Johnson bellows way too loudly for his office to contain. But, hell, so did my voice I imagine.

"Coach, I quit, get fucked." You storm out of the office and you see all of your now former teammate finish up with dressing after their showers. You see Kaleb lean around a row of lockers and mouth, "What the fuck?" as you swiftly grab your equipment, throw it in the bin, and pack your shit. You don't need this and don't even want to think about what Coach Johnson had in mind with a cheerleading outfit. Fucking weirdo.

You turn to Kaleb and say, "Hurry the fuck up, we're going home. I'll see you at the truck."

You turn and leave. The blur of walking to the truck and sitting in the driver's seat while your mind burns took long enough that you didn't even notice Kaleb open his passenger door. The slam woke you out of your stare down with the speedometer. "Alright psycho, lets fucking go", Kaleb sighs.