Inside Stories

Coach B and Me – An Essay by Stephen O’Connor

Photo courtesy TMZ Sports

by Stephen O’Connor

What can I say? I guess I was inspired by the Coach, the greatest coach evah, dating a 24- year-old cheerleader. I was even more inspired than I was when he was the grumpy phiz and deep football brain behind the greatest team evah. Ah, hadn’t we passed many a fond Sunday afternoon together, the Coach with his clipboard, and me with my bee-ah. The Coach with his torn, stained hoodie, and me with one just like it.

I know I’m old, but I am not as old as the Coach. He’s 72! I’m still in my 60’s, barely, but still. He found a bella chick of 24 years to be his paramour. Imagine the excited reveries of us old men! So, I combed my hair and put on my coolest Hawaiian shirt—the one with the B-52 bombers flying all over it, and went out to the local college bars. Now, it’s true that the Coach has a lot more money than I have, but look, as our president would say, here’s the deal. I have at least the normal amount of charm. The coach is obviously a zero in that department. Also, like our president, I have wisdom and experience. In spades.

So it was that after several embarrassing encounters and scores of hurtful insults, I chanced to meet Aquaria. Her lovely blue eyes matched her hair. She was also 24, just a scant thirty-odd years younger than I. Perfect.

I took her to lunch at some French joint in Concord. Class, right? I ordered a glass of wine and she got some fruity drink. Sadly, she got carded, which set the lunch off on a bit of a sour note. But I wasn’t put off too much. I started to lay my charm on her. I imitated the stuffy waitress. Aquaria laughed, showing bright teeth.

She said she thought I was “funny.” I did my Joe Pesci imitation: “Funny? How am I funny? What do you mean funny? Am I like a clown to you? Explain how I’m funny!”

Unfortunately, Aquaria got scared and said she didn’t mean anything bad by it. I said, “No, I know! That’s from Good Fellas, the movie, remember? Joe Pesci?”

She said she had never seen that movie. I told her it didn’t matter. Our drinks came, and I raised my glass and in my Bogart voice, said, “Here’s lookin’ at you, kid!” She smiled, so I continued, “Of all the gin joints in all the world, she hadda walk into my place!”

I expected her to say, “Play it again, Sam!” But her brows knit and she said, “What?”

“Ah, just another movie,” I said, feeling the wind spilling out of my charming sails.

“Have you seen the Barbie movie?” she asked.

My heart froze. Of course I would rather have my head held under water than watch the Barbie movie. “No, I haven’t. Have…have you?”

“Yeah. It was so good.”

Suddenly I felt as if every one of the years since I was born in the 50’s had been hanging over my head on a slender thread which had just given way. They landed on my skull with a thud. I strained my aching brain to imagine what my football hero discussed with his cheerleader. I could just imagine: “No, Sweetheart, by offensive line, I don’t mean an insult.”

I forced my mind back to the restaurant.

“So, Aquarium,” I said. “You’re only 24…”

“Aquaria!”

“Of course. Sorry. You know, reminds me of Neil Young. Twenty-four and there’s so much more.”

“Neil who?”

“Young. Neil Young? He’s a singer songwriter,” I said, trying to conceal my dejection. “Used to be big.”

As Aquaria told me about her homework, I began to think about who I was when I was 24. “Holy crap! That was 1979. I was a lunatic! A lot of the people I hung out with back then at the Highland Tap are dead!”

There is nothing so awful as a fact. I’m old. Aquaria was a nice gal… for a 24-year-old, and I think she probably thought I was a nice old guy. Truth is she probably had a good heart and felt sorry for me. Or maybe she thought I had a lot of dough. I don’t know, but I drove her back to her dorm after lunch and shook her hand, thinking, Where I’m going, you can’t follow.

A few weeks later, I found myself back at the French joint with Lucy, a woman just about my age. She takes care of herself. Looks good for her age. Looks good to me. Not only did she tell me she loved football, but we discovered we were both diehard fans of Procol Harum. I raised my glass and said, “Here’s lookin’ at you, kid.”

She raised hers and said, “We’ll always have Paris.”

I knew it was the beginning of a beautiful friendship.

Stephen O’Connor is a writer from Lowell, Massachusetts, where much of his work is set. His previous books include, Smokestack Lightning, Stories, and the novels The Spy in the City of Books, The Witch at Rivermouth and This Is No Time to Quit Drinking

13 responses to “Coach B and Me – An Essay by Stephen O’Connor”

  1. Wayne Croswell says:

    LOL, very clever. As always…. you are a mushroom… oh, I meant FunGuy…..

  2. Sheila Herbert says:

    Very entertaining, Stephen, as always!

  3. Annie says:

    Fabulous! You are a fantastic writer

  4. Webby says:

    Aquaria: My Bella Chick! 😝 😂 😜!!

  5. Ed Dejesus says:

    Another entertaining piece by Lowell’s funniest old-timer evah. He’s so amusing and old that he cleverly miscalculated the 41-plus-year difference between him and his blue fish out of water. He is definitely old, but here’s the thing. He’s staying in the race because he knows what’s best for this country — great writing with humor. 👏👏

  6. Norman Brunelle says:

    You know Steve, reading this is so on. I was doing a gig last Friday and was talking to a woman who is a musician maybe in her sixties and had a lot of common ground to banter about. At the end of the night I ordered a double IPA from the twenty something barmaid who was a sweetheart but looked a bit confused. Anyway, I went back to pack up my gear and then back to get my IPA and there were 2 waiting for me. Just saying

  7. Terry Downes says:

    Thanks for another great read by Stephen O’Connor, high on the list of Lowell’s best writers ever.

  8. Tom O’Hagan says:

    Nicely done, as usual. Steve
    I can’t imagine actually trying to impress a 20 something year old.
    “How about them Red Sox” always worked.

  9. Steve says:

    If the conversation falters, Bill can always explain his prostate issues.

  10. Kathleen says:

    Very entertaining Steve. Laughed out loud at the line that her beautiful blue eyes matched her hair.

  11. Steve says:

    A friend of mine once dated a beautiful young Russian gal, and despite a strong physical relationship, it didn’t last very long. When I asked what happened, he said, “We couldn’t communicate with each other.” Duh.

  12. EssTee Kgosi says:

    “By offensive line I don’t mean an insult” 😂🤣😂🤣

  13. great stuff, as usual from Lowell’s best writer. He has managed to make something that is so sad and pathetic, really… (I mean, what the hell does Bill and his “Bella-Chick talk about?) into something very funny. I myself have considered putting my hair in a bun, getting a sports car, and cruising Revere Beach… but my wife won’t let me!

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