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Meet the Coach1,204 words
Meet the Coach part 21,165 words

Meet the Coach part 2

"Wait." Twilight said as Coach McGuirk began to walk away. "If these fillies barely know how to play soccer, then do you think you could, I don't know, give me some help? You are an actual coach, after all."

Coach Mcguirk stopped walking away, and turned to Twilight. After giving her flanks a quick glance, he tapped his chin and said, "Well, I could show you how I run practice. But just once. Come by the field tomorrow at about 2."

Twilight nodded, thankful that she wouldn't be suddenly thrust into the deep end, metephorically.

As if realizing who he was talking to, Coach McGuirk added, "Alright, but remember you came and asked me for help. Don't say anything during practice, just watch and learn, okay."

Again, Twilight nodded, though she was slightly nervous that he felt the need to say his disclaimer.

"How long Coach McGuirk, how long do we have to stretch?" Sweetie Belle asked of her coach, who was just sitting on the bench with a vacant expression. Twilight had shown up at 2:00 p.m. and was surprised to see that practice was already underway. Or, at least she thought it was. The fillies were stretching, while Coach McGuirk had sat on the bench without talking. Twilight had brought a scroll to take notes with, but so far all she had was the word "stretch."

Nervous by the coach's lack of a response, Sweetie Belle continued, "It's already been 45 minutes, and we're stretched."

It appeared that Coach McGuirk only just now realized that Sweetie Belle was talking to him, and he brought up a hoof to smooth back his disheveled mane as he asked, "Why? What was I saying?"

Sweetie Belle looked down at her hooves, and kicked a small pebble. "You weren't saying anything."

"Well what are you saying?"

Sweetie Belle shrugged as she said, "I was saying we were all stretched."

Coach McGuirk tilted his head to the left slightly, as if he was confused and the act of changing his viewpoint would make the situation clearer. "Great. What does that mean?"

Sweetie Belle looked over at Twilight, who was taking notes about the conversation, before looking back to Coach McGuirk. She thought about how she could effectively communicate her point, before finally saying, "That we're all... stretched out."

"Yeah?"

"Can we stop?

Suddenly Coach McGuirk was struck by a realization: that he had no idea who he was talking to. Furrowing his brow, he asked, "Who are you?"

Sweetie Belle did not expect his question. Unsure, she replied, "I'm... I'm Sweetie Belle."

"Sweetie Belle who?"

Realizing that this behavior was out of character, even for McGuirk, Sweetie Belle asked, "Coach? What's the matter? You don't look so good."

At this point, Coach McGuirk looked away, and took a brief glance at Twilight still taking notes, again lingering on her flank. Remembering that he still hadn't responded to Sweetie Belle, he gave her a non-commital grumble.

Worried about her coach, she asked, "Are you on another bender?"

Coach McGuirk gasped, giving Sweetie Belle a powerful whiff of alcohol. "Where'd you learn that word Sweetie Belle?"

Again looking down, she replied, "From you."

Slightly embarrassed, he looked down and mumbled, "Oh right..." After a moment, he added, "Look, I didn't mean to do this, it just sort of happened. I had one beer, and then I had another..."

Sweetie Belle tilted her head and asked, "How come?"

Coach McGuirk drew slightly back, as if he couldn't believe she had really asked that question. After a moment, he said, "What do you mean how come? What kind of question is that Sweetie Belle?"

"Well, why do you dri-"

"I just do." He interrupted. "It's not like I wake up and go: Hey, I want to go on a bender today! Celestia, you're so... look, you know I try not to do this, right?"

"But coach," Sweetie Belle took a moment to gather her courage, before continueing, "coach, I think you might have a problem... have you tried not drinking?"

Coach McGuirk paused for a moment, before exploding, "So, you're telling me that to break my drinking problem, I should not drink? Wow! What a novel idea! Hey! Attention all alcoholics! You've just gotta not drink! Celestia, Sweetie Belle, you should write a book or something! You'd make millions!"

Sweetie Belle seemed to be trying to pull into herself, and defended herself by saying, "But... Coach, I'm just trying to help..."

Without warning, Coach McGuirk shouted, "LIKE EVERY OTHER MARE IN MY LIFE!"

After several long moments, he visibly calmed down, and said, "Look, Sweetie Belle, I'm sorry. I just have a pounding headache and then I've got you peeping in my business. You know I don't intentionally do this, right?"

His simple apology seemed acceptable to Sweetie Belle, who got up, and went back to the rest of the team, who was still stretching. At length, Coach McGuirk told the fillies to do some shooting drills to help Applebloom learn to be a good goalie. Afterwords, he walked over to Twilight, who had been dutifully taking notes.

After tracing her hind legs with his eyes, and then memorizing that image, he said, "So basically you just run them through their stretches, then some shooting drills, and then you call it a day, alright?"

Twilight nodded, and realizing that then was the time to ask questions, asked, "Are you sure it's a good idea to show up to practice hung-over?"

After thinking for a moment, Coach McGuirk said, "Yeah, actually you probably shouldn't do that. I don't, anyways." He ignored an eye roll from Twilight before adding, "Well, I think you can handle today, so I guess this is goodbye, huh?"

Twilight nodded and said, "Thanks for the help." She then added under her breath, "Not that I'll miss you."

Coach McGuirk nodded, but he seemed to be mulling something over. Eventually, he said, "Well, I know we're both going to regret this, but whatever."

He walked by Twilight, but at the last minute turned, and slapped her flank.

Reacting instantly, Twilight spun around, her face red and her hair aflame. Concentrating for a split second, she noticed Coach McGuirk close his eyes a heartbeat before a bolt of pure magic (and rage) hit him square on, and knocked him flying.

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