Coach Dan’s Tale 1G

“So your coach — pardon me, instructor,” said Gandy. “He was from Hungary?”

Coach Dan nodded. “An outstanding instructor. Very old school, not personable at all. If you were a woman or member of a minority group, he’d see that as a weakness, and if you were the right gender and race, he’d think you were soft. But if you could put up with his prejudices, his abrassiveness, his temper, and listened to what he said about fencing, it was like listening to Einstein talk about physics. He had a few collegiate champions in his time.”

“He’s not coaching any longer?” asked the short-haired woman.

“He retired, about five years ago. The college went through a budget crisis, cut funding for a lot of the non-revenue sports. Fencing was one of the first to go. They offered him an administrative job at the gym, said he could run the team as a club, but he said that after twenty years he’d had enough. So they had this big retirement party for him — and that’s where the Bark Bay fencing team comes in.”

Gandy leaned forward in her chair, while the short-haired woman and man in the baseball cap maintained their attentive stares. The olive-skinned woman rose from her chair behind Coach Dan, moved down to the end of the first row of chairs, behind the man in the baseball cap, and stared at Coach Dan with equal attention.

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