Last week I outlined some of my exploits on the baseball diamond, in Orillia, in my youth. This week, I take you behind the bench as you are made privy to the secret life….of a T-Ball coach!
My daughter wanted to play T-Ball and, as a result, I took her to register. As I said last week, operations like this rely on so many volunteers. (I had no idea how intimately I was to become acquainted with that concept.) I paid the fee and the registrar looked at me and said “You know, Mister Montreuil we are always in need of coaches.” The fact that he pronounced my surname correctly should have warned me. I nodded a) and the registrar smiled up at me from behind his table.
Segarini: Don't Believe a Word I Say 