Would you want this man coaching your sweet sixteen-year-old daughter’s soccer team?
He’s a self-confessed sexual predator. He likes to grab women by their pussy—his word, not mine; I’m not going to nice-wash it.
And we know he’s done exactly what he says he likes: he’s put his fingers up inside a woman’s vagina against her will. A court has agreed that this is true. Is your daughter safe with this man? Can you trust him not to sneak into the changing room of the gym and do the same to her?
He lies a minimum of once an hour. It’s a pathology. He’d say he was just returning the balls to the storage room if you caught him among the girl’s locker room looking for your daughter.
He cheats—at golf, at elections. He’d cheat at soccer, too, if he could. Great role model.
He has ripped other girls from their mothers’ arms while they were hugging after making a goal. Then he puts them on the wrong bus and sends them to only God knows where. They may never get back together again—disappeared, like in 1980s Argentina. He’d do the same to your daughter if it served his purposes—right out of your arms.
He would siphon off money from the team’s checking account, which your daughter had gone door to door to raise for new uniforms, then give the money to his lawyers.
He hangs out with criminals. Want them coming to watch your daughter play?
He would hire his criminal friends to organize the team’s year-end party, and they would siphon off its funds to buy a boat. When they got caught and went to jail, he’d go their bail and give them back their jobs.
He would put his own kids on the team and put them on the field ahead of your daughter, even if they are terrible players and your daughter was the best.
If your daughter’s team made it to the playoffs, and the team they had to beat was definitely better than hers, he’d send his criminal friends to break their legs.
If the other team won anyway, he’d tell everybody that they cheated. They weighted the ball or something. Or Italian mafia used satellites to laser the eyes of his players just as they were going to score. Or Venezuelans put some scratchy powder in their uniforms. Or the computers in the scoreboard were rigged. Something. Their legs were broken and a lot of them aren’t white, so how could they possibly have won?
Because black and brown people disgust him. Is your daughter black or brown, or at least not very white, not from Sweden or somewhere putatively white?
Disabled people disgust him; they make him want to puke, or something. If your daughter broke her leg in the game, he’d never go visit her while she was recuperating and he’d tell the local paper she’s a loser. He’d say, if she’s such a star, she shouldn’t have gotten hurt.
He would tell your daughter to cheat, or to try and break the ankle of the opposing team’s star player. Then if she refused, he’d yell and scream horrible things at your daughter, name call her, belittle her, and then kick her off the team and sic the IRS on her—well, on you.
He’d tell his assistant coach to tie the opposing team’s shoelaces together right out there where everybody could see, because this ass. coach had already been willing to do lots of other horrible stuff, or at least smile while the orange-headed coach did all this horrible stuff I’m talking about himself. But then, if the ass. coach refused, he would have his criminal friends try to run him over with their Ben Hur chariot golf carts.
And, after all this, if your daughter’s team lost the championship, he’d say the game was rigged, that, in fact, the whole league was one big cheat machine. (Psychological projection is at the wheel of his hindbrain.) He’d run up in the faces of the referees and shout horrible things at them and threaten them and have his criminal friends send swat teams to their houses. He’d have the county sheriff investigate the local newspaper who covered the game. And he’d still be doing all this four years later when your daughter isn’t even in high school anymore.
We know he would do all this because he’s done it all in seasons past. The school board fired him for it.
But now he wants the school board to hire him as the coach again. Would you want this man to coach your daughter’s little sister’s team, now that she’s sixteen?