Kept Back in the Locker Room

by Graham

The buzzer was sounding to start the fourth period of the game just preceding the lions' game. All the team had gone back into the locker room to go over last minute plotting for the contest that lay ahead. Matt, Joey, Chris, Stephen, Brian, Brad, Nathan, Rob, Jonathon, and Andrew – the whole team sat with eyes glued on the coach's diagram, and listening to him go over the points that he wanted the team to remember and to emphasize.

When he had finished, they talked about their record, and how it takes intensity to hang in over the long haul, especially if a team has been mauled by one or two dominant teams earlier in the season.

"Okay, guys, go out and warm up. Let's take it to'em tonight." The guys got up to leave, hurrying out onto the court to begin taking shots. Andrew was the last to leave, and Coach Benson waited for him. As he started to walk past, the Coach stepped over to Andrew, put a soft, but firm, hand on his chest, and gently pushed him farther back into the locker room.

"Just a minute, Andrew, " Coach Benson spoke abruptly. "I want to see you a minute."

"Yeah, wha, coach?" Andrew grunted, without really looking up and at the Coach.

Stepping to the tall, young player's side, Coach Benson begin, speaking also softly, but firmly. "Andrew, I don't know what has gotten into you. The last couple of weeks, you have not been the same old Andrew that we've seen, and counted on, throughout the season. What's wrong, son?"

"N-nothing, . . . coach," the young player mumbled.

"Well, something is obviously wrong, Andrew. You're sullen and withdrawn, not really an enthusiastic member of the team. You're not really giving 100%, but kind of a pain, and dawdling at times. I've even noticed a kind of hostile attitude towards things that you're told or asked to do – or that the team is instructed to do. I want to help, Andrew."

"Nothing's wrong, Coach," the young player muttered his reply, and tried to push past the coach.

"Hold on there, young man. Not so fast. We're not through yet." With that, the coach quickly turned the young man sideways, bending him down slightly.

THWAUNK! THWAUNK! THWAUNK! THWAUNK! THWAUNK! THWAUNK! THWAUNK!

Suddenly, and swiftly, over and over, the coach was swatting the young players' bottom through the thin fabric of his shorts. Andrew quickly moved his hands back to protect his rump, but the coach moved them out of the way, turning the young man leftward and downward, and continuing the swats.

"H-hey, coach! Stop!" the young, small forward called out. The coach said nothing.

THWAUNK! THWAUNK! THWAUNK! THWAUNK! THWAUNK! THWAUNK! THWAUNK! THWAUNK! THWAUNK! THWAUNK! THWAUNK! THWAUNK! THWAUNK! THWAUNK! THWAUNK! THWAUNK! THWAUNK! THWAUNK! THWAUNK! THWAUNK! THWAUNK! THWAUNK! THWAUNK!

Andrew again tried to move his hands back over his behind, to protect it. The coach continued raining spanks on the young players backside, while removing his hands from protecting it.

"W-wait, coach! Ahh-uh! S-stop! Uh-uh . . . aaah-uh-w-why-uh-w-what . . . uh-I mean, aughaaa-uh-s-STOP! ITS-UH-HURTING! AAAH-I-UH-MEAN-UH-S-STOP IT!"

The coach still said nothing, as he continued warming up his young player's rearend. Already, Andrew's bottom was heated and hurting. He began shuffling and bouncing on his feet. His behind was throbbing and starting to feel like a torch was blistering it.

"OOO-UH-C-COACH! S-STOPIT-UH-P-PLEASE! AAAAA-UH-OOOOO-UH-OW! N-NOOOO-UH-M-MORE! OOOO-AH-OWOWOWW! AIEEYOW! I'M SORREEEE! OOO-UH-NOOO-UH-MOOOR-UH! YEEOWOWOWW! UH-UH-AUGHAA-UH-OOOO! P-PLEASE STOP! I'MSORRY! I'MSORRY! OOO-UH-YOWWW! C-COACH! PLEASE! UH-NOOOO-ITS HURT-AAA-ING-AAA-OWOWOWW! I'LL BE GOOD! I'LL BE GOOD! OOO-UH-AAA-YEOWW! C-COACH-AUGHUH! I-UH-UH-P-PROMISE! OOOO-UH-UH! P-PLEASE-UH-S-STOP-UH-UH-SPANKING-UH-UH-M-MEEE-UH-OOO-UH-YOWW!"

Coach Benton's arm and hand kept firing with the rythmic speed of an automatic weapon. Andrew was crying out and wailing now, as the hurt to his bottom, and the humiliation to his pride from being spanked by his coach, overwhelmed the young man.

"I want to get your attention, young man. And I think I know what will do it." the Coach said firmly – all the while continuing to blister the young player's behind. Andrew collapsed, leaning and hanging over the coach's left arm, while his right continued the spanking.

Finally, he stopped, but Andrew was choking in sobs and wailing in pain and sorrow as he reached back to cover his blazing bottom. He could feel the inferno through the seat of his shorts.

"Sit down there," the Coach commanded. With some painful tenderness, Andrew reluctantly sat down on an old, short cabinet. Coach Benton stood squarely in front of him, looking at the young man's downcast, streaming eyes.

"I want to get your attention, Andrew. You seem to be headed in the wrong direction these past few weeks. I like and care about all the guys on this team; but it's pretty obvious that you are my favorite, Andrew. You have been almost since the first practice. You have so much ability, so much talent, such good instincts and understanding, the leadership ability. You should be the team captain. There's nobody else on the team that can fill that position – except for you. "Yet, you have not done it. You're blowing it, Andrew. This golden opportunity to step up, and lead, and do what you have been given the talents to do – and you're blowing it! That's not right! The whole team needs to be able to depend on, and be led by, YOU, ANDREW!" Coach Benton shouted at the end to emphasize the point.

"It's time to stop the silly, childish, self-centered moods and sullenness, and step up and do what is expected from somebody as gifted as you are! Do you understand what I'm saying, young man?!"

Andrew shook his head up and down slightly.

"WHAT?!" Coach Benton demanded.

"Y-yes, sir." Andrew replied, after being prompted.

"All right, then, son. Go out there and lead this team, and be the example and the leader – by your own talents, and by your leading them – that they need. I don't want to have to repeat this reminder, Andrew! Do you understand what I'm saying, son?"

"Uh-y-yes, uh-s-sir." he stammered his reply through still-lingering sobs and gasps.

"Then let's get a move on, youngster!" the Coach barked.

Andrew slowly stood up in front of the coach, and instantly and automatically leaned forward and threw his arms around the coach's neck. Coach Benton hugged the young player back, then said, "Come on, son," and swatted the seat of Andrew's shorts as the young man fairly jumped towards the door.

When the game began, Andrew's attention was focused. He scored 23 points in the game, and hustled, and worked, throughout – while encouraging his teammates to hang in and work hard. The team crushed their opponents by 26 points!