He is a frail, weak and sickly old man.
Some time has passed, but he still looks the same to me.
He lays in front of me on his hospital bed in the living room
Face sunken in around his eyes and cheeks
Wife holding his hand, daughter at the foot of the bed
Hospice nurse giving us his paperwork and a run down.
Its funny how for years I rode on his bus to places with the rest of his team
Now he rides on my bus with my team
This time instead of to the football field we travel to the hospital
We talk about the years past
We talk about my life
Lastly we talk about football
Coach was a good man
I'm glad I had the chance to tell him how he influenced me
For Coach was in the final minutes of his final game.
He knew he was losing, and wouldn't tie up the score
That night the Ref's blow the final whistle
Good Game Couch, Good Game.