Appetite

“I don’t understand you,” said Coach Dan. “You’re probably the most laid-back student in this school, but when something goes wrong during a bout, you just lose it.”

“Cut the pious crap,” replied Double-J testily. “You’re laying into one of us at every practice.”

“Don’t go there with me, buster,” said Coach Dan. “Yeah, I speak sharply to you guys, for emphasis, to get you to focus. But I make it direct, short, and not violent, for crying out loud. I’m not throwing things around at people.”

“Well maybe you should! You know, I wasn’t saying you were doing anything wrong, all I’m saying is that you do it in a half-assed way. Me, when I get upset at myself for surrendering a touch I should have parried easily, or at a judge who’s got his head up his ass, or somebody on the team for holding up a meet — I let it out, don’t hold back. It’s healthy.”

“Oh please. You’re not blowing off steam. When you get upset you’re feasting on your emotions, satisfying some dark appetite you have anger. It’s not healthy, it’s scary.”

“I am just sick to death of your sanctimonious BS. Look, I am what I am. You don’t like me getting angry, fine, kick me off the goddam team. But be honest for once in your goddam life. Pretend for once that you can be straight with me!”

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