When I was young

I played most every sport

From baseball to badminton 

From football to fùtbol

From swimming to skiing

There wasn’t anything I didn’t try

My dad wanted me to be the best

For a time, I wanted that too

For a time, I believed like he did

That I could become the greatest at something

I wanted to make him happy and proud

He was my coach in everything I did

So much so that it felt as if that’s all he was

Just a coach, not a dad

Sure he was there for me

But only when I won

If we ever lost all I could hear

Was him telling me why we lost

Sometimes it was the other players

“If Peyton was just a couple seconds faster in the reley we would’ve won”

Sometimes it was the other coaches

“Mr.Meyer doesn’t know how to coach his own son in baseball, let alone you”

Most times, it was me

“If you had just caught that pass at the 10…”

As I got older, I started to realize something

Why was I letting him talk to me like this

It was degrading and not at all helpful

My dad doesn’t know how to do ‘constructive’ criticism, just criticism

So one day, I tell him to shove it

I let it all out

All of the frustration I’ve built up

All my regrets and pain

Everything

We sit in silence for a while after I finish

Then he goes and drinks a beer

I think I won

Was there really any winning?

I'm not sure what winning is anymore

Is it really winning if you hurt the person

Who cared about you the most?

I want to apologize and take it all back

But I can’t

I want him to say something

Anything

But he doesn’t

And he still hasn’t

I tried to get my dad back

By getting rid of my coach

Instead, I lost them both