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Coach Bobby Finstock looked around at his team, perplexed. He knew they could do so much better, he /knew/ it. And yet, during their last game, they had barely scraped the win. He didn’t want to use another speech stolen from some well known movie. The time had come to use his … influence … to it’s fullest.
Stepping out of his office and into the locker room, where the boys were changing and laughing together, Bobby raised his whistle to his lips and blew, hard. Feeling a sadistic twinge of pleasure as he watched his team flinch and cover their ears, Bobby let the whistle fall and dangle from the cord around his neck.
“Boys, listen up! Now, I know you guys don’t want to push yourselves too hard against the opposition. But, from now on, I want you to put some effort in! We almost lost our last game!”
One of the boys hesitantly raised his hand, as if afraid of incurring the Coach’s wrath.
“What is it, Bilinski?”
“Uh, Coach, if we use too much of our strength, won’t we be at risk of losing control, or hurting the opposite team?”
“I don’t care, Bilinski! I am the Coach of a winning team! This needs to be a winning team, or there would be no point in any of you being here! Now, anyone who does not improve for the next game will be pulled from the team and given detention with Harris for the remainder of the school year! Do I make myself clear?”
As Coach’s gaze falls on each individual, the boys nod and bare their necks in submission. Only Jackson resists for a moment, before his gaze meets the furious red gaze of the Coach. He quickly bares his neck. He’d like to remain team captain … and keep his throat intact.
Nodding, Bobby dismisses the team, turning back to his office, surprised to see his claws lengthening. Taking a moment to calm his thoughts, he feels them slowly retract again.
Sometimes it was hard being an Alpha werewolf in charge of a lacrosse team of Betas ….