A Second Letter to Qwendy

Dearest Coach:

Its been a while since our last letter, hasn’t it? And actually you’ve been much better lately. Maybe you have lightened up on the pumpkin cookies? AND you brought us apples to our last match. My initial suspicion that you injected anabolic steroids into each delicious bite of juicy apple was confirmed by the team’s play on Friday (Lord knows it wasn’t the coaching).

Oops. There I go being mean again. This is really hard for me because you gave me like 37 minutes against Penn Trafford. Maybe you noticed my WTF expression during the entire game. It was like a gift from God. Quick question actually: Are you secretly Jewish, and thus no doubt aware that it is indeed Rosh Hashanah, a week full of good and selfless acts? If so, good for you, or “mazel tov”, if you like that better. And in honor of Rosh Hashanah I should say sorry. I did blame you for a lot of things Coach. A lot of it you really really really deserved. But some of the things I blamed you for really weren’t your mistakes. After all, it wasn’t your fault that that bitch Paterra ordered us all medium jackets.

So you might be wondering why I am writing again. Really, its more of an affirmation statement, which is something that comes from the heart, I think. Here is my “affirmation statement” Coach: I AM NOT A WATERGIRL. I did see the movie “Water Boy.” I enjoyed it. But the connection between me and that mentally retarded guy really needs to end there. First of all, I don’t have a lisp. Just wanted to get that little tidbit out there. Secondly, we “benchers” (as I have affectionately dubbed us) do not mind helping out our fellow teammates. I heartily enjoy the company of most of them. However, you kind of treated us like Siberian Huskies. That’s really the best analogy I can come up with. Like little work horses that must go “FASTER! FASTER” to retrieve water for Master. And then to “reward” us for our hard service by patting (petting?) us on the back and with a lofty coo, tell us: “Good Girl.” Beacuse I’m pretty sure that’s what people do to dogs. And not only was I blessed without a lisp, but without fur as well. So really there was no reason for that.

Oh, and FYI: They let the Waterboy play football.

Slightly annoyed,
Molly