Open Letter

Dear Coach,


I feel that we get along really well. You laugh at my jokes, I pretend to laugh at yours so you'll play me more. I think you have a nice way of delivering constructive criticism and you wear nice clothes. Your hair could use some work because it looks like a crater hit smack on top of your head and cleared away all of the tiny strings of spaghetti you called hair. But, your friar hair cut adds to your overall image as an insightful and enjoyable person.


So I deal with it. I play my hardest every game despite your head looking like a bowling ball wearing a tutu. What is the purpose of this letter? What about you can drive me so crazy that it distracts me from whatever you say?


Your chest hair.


Correction: your hairy animal that you carry around strapped to your chest that pops out of your shirt all too often.


It actually looks like you're being attacked by some black grassy monster that has traveled up your body and is attacking your neck. I want to scream out and help you. I've debated bringing my dad's riding lawn mower in attempt to tame the beast, but it can't handle the dense forest that could swallow a child for days at a time.


OH! It is for sure my favorite when the team makes a bad play and you get so frustrated you pull your "neck pet"'s hair. Just an FYI, most people go for their head hair, but I understand since I suppose that's too much of a struggle because you'd have to grope your head in order to find a piece of hair to pull. And if we're having an awful day at practice, I start to feel sympathy for the pom-pom like hairs that are being uprooted from their comfortable homes on your collarbone.


You're the kind of man who can wear whatever you want and still have disturbing chest hair. You could be wearing a turtle neck and there would still be a bulge where the everpresent sasquatch baby lurks.


I'm probably jealous that I haven't met a real man like you who could save me in the dead of winter with one warming and engulfing hug.


So. Whatever you do, NEVER SHAVE YOUR CHEST HAIR. It is so joyous that chopping it down would diminish your purpose of life.


Sincerely,


Reilly