(quote by Don Shula)
Saying “my bad” is a great way to disarm others. Still, Coach Shula is suggesting that when we take the blame, we clear a path to self-improvement. If we miss and adjust, we come closer next time, unless the target is moving. (Sorry. Guess I shouldn’t blame the target.)
I can picture my coach at the chalkboard at the halftime of my life, inspiring a comeback.
“Twenty eight to nothing. Jesus. What a sorry sack of shit you are.”
“Sorry, coach.”
“You’re sorry? Sorry doesn’t score, son.”
“I know, but I can’t help it.”
“That attitude ain’t gonna cut it. You need to screw your head back on straight. Now, let’s review the first half. The first score was a cute, little number who enjoyed craft beer and dirty talk. How’d you lose that one?”
“I’m not used to women dropping the C-word. It causes performance anxiety.”
“Oh, grow up. There’s nothing wrong about tossing around a few juicy words. You need to embrace the C-word.”
“OK, I’ll try.”
“The next score brought a vibrator to bed. You fumbled it.”
“Damn thing was powerful and slippery, coach.”
“It’s all about the drills, son. You need to work on your grip, because women like vibration sensations, and your cock ain’t about to jitterbug.”
“Fine.”
“You lost this next one over a tiny foul called finger-butt.”
“I never met a woman who asked for that.”
“So? Give her what she wants, then go wash your damn hands, you pansy.”
“Right, right.”
“What about that sexy wine rep who passed out mid-nookie?”
“She’s a drunk. What was I supposed to do?”
“You need a better booze barometer. Heck, feed the woman. How about mixing in an ice water?”
“My bad.”
“You finally met a great gal who had one, tiny request: commitment.”
“She insisted that we be married within the year, and she wanted to be pregnant the next.”
“Damn. No kidding? OK, I’ll let you slide on that one. What about all the money you invested in that young one? It took you almost a month to peel down her panties.”
“I missed a mortgage payment for her. Turns out she had a killer dog and an armed father.”
“Stop going after the rookies, will ya? Christ. You had some potential last night. How did you fuck that one up?”
“She was a Monet, coach. She looked great from across the bar. How was I to know she had nose hair?”
“You have nose hair too, jackass.”
“Yeah, but I can’t braid mine.”
“No shit? Maybe you should get your damn eyes fixed. Well, let’s put this all behind us. Clean up your act, go after more suitable players, and stop blaming every woman for deep-seeded issues you developed by fucking up your marriage, smoking too much weed, and watching too much porn.”
“Fine.”
“And, for Christ’s sake, son, will you please stop trying to bang servers?”
“But, they’re my favorite nurses, delivering the sedative I so desperately need.”
“Start hanging out in libraries.”
“Ugh.”
“Now, square those shoulders, and get back out there!”
