“Okay, squirts! Line up, and get ready to learn how to win!”
Rainbow Dash strode slowly but purposefully down the rag-tag line, looking at the crew assembled before her. They were young yes, and they were raw… but they were hers. She directed a piercing stare at each pony in turn, letting them know that she would accept nothing but excellence from each of them, letting them know she—
Twilight quickly stepped in front of Dash, smiling reassuringly as the foals gathered in front of them. “Learn how to have fun, she means. Hopefully we’ll win some games, but if we don’t—”
“—Then it won’t be any fun!” Dash cut in, muscling back in front of Twilight. “Trust me, I’ve lost before—I mean, I lost once, just to, er, to see what it felt like. And you know what? It was no fun at all! You runts want to have fun, we gotta win every. Single. Game!”
The fillies and colts looked to one another silently, resignation and apathy playing across their faces in the precise mixture one might expect from a group of youths who were just beginning to realize what their summer afternoons would entail for the foreseeable future.
Twilight chuckled nervously. “Well, in any case, we should probably get started, since—”
“—We’ve got a lot of work to do if we don’t want to be disappointments to ourselves, each other, and Mom and Dad!” There was an awkward silence as nine young foals and one alicorn princess stared uncertainly at Dash. “...Ah, to your Moms and Dads.”
Twilight coughed. “Okay, so, let’s start with some basic throw-and-catch drills! I want you all to stand in a circle, and toss the ball back and forth. The goal is to throw the ball as many times in a row as we can without dropping it, okay?”
The young ponies nodded, then shambled into a crude facsimile of a circle. “And remember,” Dash yelled, “I want everyone to give 110%!”
“She means 100%, everypony,” Twilight quickly corrected.
Dash let out a single, barking laugh. “Just 100%? That’s what losers give! You guys need to give me 110%, every time we practice!” She paused, and put a hoof to her chin as she took on a more contemplative demeanor. “And maybe an extra 20% when we actually play, if we’re gonna win every game.”
“No, no, 100% will do fine,” Twilight said, a little more forcefully. “In fact, it’s the ideal amount to give, since you literally can’t give more than that.”
“...Unless you want to win, in which case 110% is, like, the bare minimum.”
“Rainbow Dash,” Twilight said, her voice soft but strained. “Why don’t you come over here so we can have a little coach’s conference?”
Oblivious to the danger in that voice, Dash nodded. “Sure, whatever. Okay squirts, the goal is ten million throws without a drop. Get started, and we’ll be right back!” She trotted out of earshot with Twilight, leaving the nine foals alone with a ball.
“Okay, Dash,” Twilight began as soon as they were alone. “I know I promised to let you take the lead on this pee-wee league co-coaching thing—”
“I don’t know why none of their parents would trust me alone with those kids,” Dash grumbled.
“—And even if I don’t think it’s the best choice, I’m prepared to let you destroy everypony’s self-esteem with your unrealistic expectations and incessant projecting of your own failures and successes onto them.” Twilight frowned. “I mean, I still don’t think that’s what you should do, but my research indicates that it’s standard practice among pee-wee coaches.”
“There’s nothing ‘standard’ about Rainbow ‘Professionalism’ Dash’s coaching style.” Dash buffed a hoof against her chest. “But I accept your compliment. So, can we get back to—”
“—But I am drawing the line at teaching bad math!” Twilight flared her wings angrily. “You can’t give 110%, Dash! Once you’ve given 100%, you have exactly zero percent more to give! That is what 100% means!”
Dash shrugged. “Um, duh?”
“So you need to—wait, what?” Now that she thought about it, Twilight wasn’t sure what reaction she was expecting from Dash, but it certainly wasn’t ‘immediate acknowledgement.’
“Well, yeah. Obviously you can’t actually give 110%,” Dash said. “But you can always give more than you think you can. Saying, ‘give it 110%’ is just a way to remind everypony that if they ever feel like they’re playing as hard as they can, they’re wrong. If you wanna improve, you’ve always got to push yourself to do more than you think you can.”
Twilight gaped silently. Finally, she stuttered, “W-well, I still disapprove of you using improper numerical nomenclature.”
Dash waved a wing dismissively. “If that’s Twi-speak for ‘I still don’t like it,’ then how about I let you do a correction at the end of our practice? The kids need to do some cool-downs anyway, you might as well be talking then.”
“Okay, but then—”
“Cool.” Dash turned back to the foals, who had, over the past two minutes, transitioned from ‘throwing the ball,’ to ‘staring listlessly at the ball’ and had just graduated to ‘ripping up chunks of sod to see who could find the most worms’ for the colts, and ‘plucking dandelions and braiding them into each others’ manes’ for the fillies. “Alright, squirts, back to work! We’ve got to make up for lost time—that means giving at least 112% for the rest of practice!”
Twilight shuddered.