Free food. Free food everywhere. The gluttony never stops. When I was a young coach I used to put meets on my schedule based on how good the hospitality table was. Some clubs even get a reputation. I would email the coaches to make requests. "Are you gonna serve that yummy fruit pizza again?" It's almost like some kind of a neighborhood competition you would see on The Real Housewives of New Jersey. Seriously. It has gone too far.
|"You's gonna come to my swim meet and badmouth my cinnamon rolls?! Your meet didn't even have a cappuccino machine!"|
|Sorry kid. I didn't get your splits. I had to use my heat sheet as a napkin and I think I accidentally ate my stopwatch.|
How do I know they are trying to kill me? It's the wagon. They send a kid in to do the dirty work. A seven year old with a funny Christmas hat, pulling a radio flyer wagon full of sugary drinks and cookies and breakfast burritos and syrup. Oh, you brought a tub of frosting to spread on my bacon? How thoughtful! Come on, kid. I am trying to take splits here. How about I open my mouth and you just spray the whipped cream in, eh?
|What? You don't dress like an elf for the December invitational meets?|
Yeah... because that's what I need. 18 wings and a couple of beers for my fourth meal right before bed. At least the hospitality room doesn't have beer. We all know how that would end up.