My 10 year high school reunion is this weekend and I have a confession to make:

I ran, and was elected, as a student council representative so I could miss football practice once a week for an entire semester.

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Every Wednesday, the “end of day” bell would ring and my teammates would hustle to the locker room to get ready for practice. While they did that, I was loliggagging through the hallways waiting for student council to start.

We met in the library for the meetings.

I never said shit. Like, all I did was sit there and smile like a goon. I did ZERO legislative work. I barely even voted. I just sat there.

I was a non-partisan observer whose vote, and voice, was a reprieve from the Wednesday grind of sweat and testosterone.

Sometimes, I would feel bad that the rest of my teammates were out in the heat roughing each other up for practice.

But mostly, I was just glad I wasn’t them.

At least for that day: Wednesday student council meeting day.

—

Sometimes the meetings would be cancelled.

I still went to the library and sat there.

I’d look at my watch and gauge the minutes to allow for a reasonable amount of “student council meeting time”.

Oh, I’ve been sitting here for an hour?

I think I should head to the Locker room…

Nah. Five more minutes, then I’ll go.

—

When I met with my head coach to tell him that I had been elected as a student body representative, he didn’t say anything. He just stared at me. He peered deep into my soul.

He knew that I was a bullshit artist.

The dude had a wicked stink eye and he could smell with it. Straight through the bullshit.

I played my best actor though.

I nodded my head low and summoned the spirit of regret. I looked at him with pleading eyes:

“I really didn’t think I would be elected, I just wanted to try, but now…”

My face twisted in frustration at the hand of fate I had been dealt.

“I have an obligation to our school and I won’t be able to make Wednesday practices until late.”

My eyes looked up in remorse, summoning a tear of regret.

My head coach’s lips parted, cracking a thin smile. His frustration had soothed away and he knew: I mean he absolutely knew:

I was a total goon bag jabroni.

“Just get to practice as quick as you can after these meetings”

“Yes sir, thank you sir”

I walked from his office, a ray of freedom unveiling itself in the form of a regular half practice on Wednesday’s.

So, I guess this is me saying:

Forgive me Coach Dirst. Wherever you are. I love you and I miss you.

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Let me be clear: my name was on the ballot that was delivered to every homeroom in the high school. Hundreds of kids were encouraged to cast a vote for a student that would best represent them in governmental affairs.

Candidates were analyzed, mental “pro’s and cons” lists were had, and scantrons were bubbled in…

I just didn’t want to practice for a full practice on Wednesdays.

Kids were wearing shirts with my face on them.

I just didn’t want to practice for a full practice on Wednesdays.

A gaggle of students approached me to tell me that they had voted for me, that they trusted me.

I just didn’t want to practice for a full practice on Wednesday’s.

—

I have no excuse, no reason that is worthy of forgiveness.

All I have is the truth, and, like Usher, these are my confessions.

Except not really like Usher cause I didn’t miss practice on Wednesdays to cheat on my girlfriend and have a baby by another woman…

I just manipulated the student body so I could sit in a library and not have to practice for a full practice on Wednesdays.

I don’t know what else to say.

Except…

I miss you Coach Dirst.

And I hope you still have the valentine I sent you on one of those chocolate hearts that the school would deliver for Valentine’s Day.

—

“You make me sweat”.

—

Even now, in my dreams. And I have to thank you for it.

This songs for you: