It was midway through senior year and I was starting to apply for scholarships, so that I could make college cheaper for my parents and I. On this one occasion I was writing an essay to apply to my youth hockey program, since I had been in the program my entire hockey career I figured it was a for sure pick and an essay grand into my pocket. I started trying to write the essay but was stuck and didn’t know where to go from my first line…”I believe I deserve the FYHS because”.

Then out of nowhere my varsity hockey coach appeared (we don’t get along very well). He looked like he usually does but his head was huge! And he had the same angry look on his face that he usually does with his scrunched eyebrows and a mean mug looking right into your soul, and his glasses enhanced the size of his eyes so they looked even deeper then the soul to find anything hidden beneath. He was wearing our regular warm-up suits that we wear to games and for conditioning after practices, all blue and our team name on the left side of the chest. He looked so pissed off an angry I didn’t even want to hear what he had to say cause I knew I wasn’t gunna like it. The first thing he said to me was with his usual loud voice “NICHOLS, WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING?”. I responded I’m writing my essay for the scholarship for youth hockey so I can have more money for college.
He came over and looked at my computer screen and turned to me with his scrunched eyebrows and got right up to my face and said “this essay is bulls***, no one cares if you played for the program they only care if you were one of my top scorers and you weren’t so cut the crap and give it up!” “Even though I don’t get to pick who gets the award, I can still tell them who I want to win and its not you Nichols”. Then all of a sudden his voice started getting louder and making my room shake and there were pictures and trophies falling off my shelves. His words started to moosh together and he wasn’t making any sense cause he wasn’t speaking English and because of this he started getting madder and yelling louder and louder till I couldn’t pick out any words he was saying.
His face got red and his head started to get bigger along with the bushy eyebrows scrunched so much they almost touched each other. I then picked him up by the back of his jacket and put him in this glass jar and closed the lid as tight as I could. Now his voice dimmed and was squeaky and you could here him still yelling and his little voice bouncing off the glass as it tries to escape and get to me. For some reason there was a volume knob so I turned it all the way down looked into the jar and said coach I don’t want to hear your s*** I’m going to write this essay and win and then shove it in your face when I do. I then opened my window to my room and chucked the jar soooo far into the woods I couldn’t see it anymore. I went bake to my desk and wrote my essay and the next month found out that I won the scholarship and went to go rub it in my coaches face but after that day I chucked the jar no ones seen him since, he’s probably still in the jar trying to yell at me with his squeaky little voice in the bottle and the volume turned all the was down. Spear get off my back!