Coach, the Short Story

Craig T. Nelson is an actor in his 60s best known for playing the title role of Coach Hayden Fox on an ABC sitcom that peaked in popularity in the early '90s. (He was the embattled dad in the movie Poltergeist, too.) What follows is an account of what happened on his trip to the Atlantic coast of Florida to take in the Daytona 500, a major NASCAR race.

Inside an Applebee's, Craig sits in a booth, alone and solemn, gazing absently at a menu. Suddenly a clamor arises in the pocket of his khaki pants. It's his cell phone, blaring the theme song from Coach—a marching band anthem that flourishes with all the gusto of a John Phillip Sousa arrangement. Craig urgently digs for the cell phone, brings it into the light. Meanwhile, a burly and excitable man in his late 20s overhears the music from his perch at the bar. He sits bolt upright, swivels around, and turns his focus toward Craig. The fight song ceases abruptly, though—an indication that Craig has received a text message rather than a call. He frowns as he reads the text.

“It's over, Craig. Move out by end of month. Goodbye. --Diane.”

His shoulders slink. He groans weakly. On the brink of catatonic despair, he slips the device back into his pocket and stares at the empty seat in front of him.

The young man at the bar approaches, his mouth agape, his eyes bulging in increments with each step he takes in his leather sandals. His t-shirt bares Greek letters; stitching beneath that reads “2001 Pledge.” He grins broadly, tucks his hands behind his head and squeezes the bill of his backward-turned cap. When he gets within an arm's reach of the table, Craig finally notices him.

“Coooaaach!” the young man bellows.

A willowy waitress with a golden ponytail strides over, shaking her head.

“Inside voice, Mike. Please. Tone it down.”

Craig smirks wistfully, a bit revived but still weary.

“It's all right, miss,” he says. “I guess the fanfare is nice sometimes.”

She peers at Craig quizzically. After a moment, she nods with vague recognition.

“Oh—my goodness. I do know you—from television. Yes. A sitcom. What was the name of that program?”

“Coooaaach!” Mike informs her.

“Yup. That's the one,” Craig says, chuckling.

“Well, I've never waited on a celebrity before. How neat! I'll be back to take your order in a minute, sir.”

She walks away, flashing her teeth. Mike lingers, awestruck and vibrating with cheer. Craig extends an open hand to his admirer.

“Pleasure to meet you, Mike.”

Startled by the greeting, Mike gulps anxiously, convulses out of his stupor, and shakes hands. He nods reverently.

“Coach,” he says in a dignified manner.

“Have a seat.”

Mike exerts a quick gasp and then obliges. He slides into the booth and faces his idol.

“You know,” Craig says, “I hate to be needy, but it really is refreshing for an actor to find someone who really likes his work. The years I spent playing Hayden Fox were some of the best of my life—professionally, personally, financially...you name it. Sure, we were never quite as popular as Full House or Seinfeld, but do you know which show had the sixth-highest ratings in prime-time from '92 'til '94?”

“Coach!”

“Bingo! Holy smokes. You really know your Coach facts.”

The waitress returns, poised to jot down Craig's order. As she addresses Mike, she motions toward the bar.

“I think your beer is getting warm...”

“No, it's all right,” Craig insists. “Mike, care to join me for dinner? It's on me, bud.”

Overcome with gratitude, Mike pumps his fist and nods effusively.

“Coach!”

“That's the spirit,” Craig says, squinting at the menu. “I'll have a T-bone steak, rare, with a baked potato on the side. And for my new friend...”

Mike bows his head and gestures to Craig; he defers.

“Coach?”

“You want me to order for you? Sure. Mike will have the same. And a few rounds of beer for the both of us.”

The waitress says she'll be back soon with their meals and departs.

Craig leans forward, raises an eyebrow.

“I ordered the T-bone 'cause that was my nickname when I was about your age. Craig 'T-bone' Nelson.”

The gag is slow to register for Mike. A few seconds pass by, but then, with feigned understanding, he lets out a boisterous laugh. He tilts his head to the side and points to Craig.

“Coooaaach.”

Craig rollicks in his seat, snickering.

“Oh man, sharing some laughs with one of my biggest fans...This is just what I needed.” He reaches into his back pocket and makes a grand presentation of two tickets. “Do you like NASCAR, Mike?”

He nods repeatedly.

“I suddenly have an extra ticket for the Daytona 500 tomorrow. Tell you what: You can be my guest, but only if you pass the quiz. Ready?”

Puzzled but willing, Mike nods again.

“Okay. First question: What is the greatest TV show of all time?”

“Coooaaach!” Mike hollers.

“What was the profession of the character I played?”

“Coach.”

“And, last but not least, who's your favorite character?”

“Coach!”

“Really? Wow. Most people say 'Dauber,'” Craig says. He offers a high-five and is left hanging for less than a millisecond. “Congratulations, Mike, you passed with flying colors. Let's celebrate with some shots of Jameson.” He turns his head and says, “Excuse me—waitress!”

###

At the big race the next day, Craig and Mike are clapping elatedly, standing on their seats with the utmost expectancy. The surrounding spectators are no less enthralled. Craig nudges Mike.

“The last lap. I've got five-grand riding on Jimmie Johnson and he's making a late-charge on that bozo Jeff Gordon. Oh man, Mike—the racing, the gambling—it doesn't get much better than this.”

Mike nods in agreement. They watch the drivers round the final turn. Johnson is trailing Gordon by less than a car-length.

“You can do it, Jimmie!” Craig shouts.

Perhaps mystically spurred on by the Coach's encouragement, Jimmie Johnson indeed does it; he takes the checkered flag by a narrow margin. Bursting with triumph and passion, Craig and Mike hug each other. Craig pulls away and grabs a hold of Mike's chubby cheeks.

“Guess who just got five-thousand dollars richer?”

“Coooaaach!”

“You said it, Mike! Now we gotta celebrate.”

 I swear to God if you buy More Stories, and Additional Stories it will be the greatest decision of your life. Better than having a kid--which, let's face it, Tom and Judy, was really more of an accident.