Bullshit

            It was seventh grade all over again, only this time it hurt a lot worse. It was tenth grade, his sophomore year. It was almost now or never time. He had worked out with the team all year long. He was in the weight room every other day, and running miles around the school on the days he was not pumping iron. He threw indoors with the team. He had his mom pick him up every day after school at 5 when he was done workouts. All that for nothing. “Fuck you, Coach Fiorino. I hope you lose every game,” he said to himself.