Imagine playing a club sport for the same team several years in a row. You’re the best player on the team, and you know it.

What would you do if you were cut from the team? Would you accept it and walk away quietly, ask questions to find out why, or try to get revenge?

In this story, a teenage lacrosse player is in this situation, and he asks questions. What he finds out makes him even more upset, so he takes the first opportunity he gets to get revenge on his old coach.

Keep reading for all the details.

Cut your team captain because he won’t pay more money? Enjoy jail time!

When this story took place, I was just about to turn 14. I was going into my 8th-grade year, and this would be my fourth and final year playing club lacrosse before the college recruiting process began.

At the time, I had played for a club called “RL.” It wasn’t the best club in the area, but I chose to play there for two reasons.

1: I wanted to lead a team. I was good enough to be a 2nd or 3rd option on many other top-tier clubs in the area (I play defense), but I wanted to be a captain, and have the responsibility of taking on the other team’s #1 option.

2: The co-owners of the club were the head coach and defensive coordinator of the high school I was set to attend in a year. If I performed well with them in the club scene, I would have a much higher chance of playing on the varsity team.

Here’s some more context about the club.

Backtracking a little bit, I joined this club when I was 9, just before my 5th-grade year.

My club only ran during two seasons, summer and fall, with training sessions in the winter, but no actual competition.

I never played a summer season for the club, because I would go to a sport-oriented sleep away camp to work on my skills over the summer (I also played football and swam), yet I was always the #1 defenseman when I played, and my coach constantly lobbied me to play over the summer.

I always politely declined. THIS IS CRUCIAL INFORMATION FOR THE STORY TO COME.

He didn’t really consider tryouts too serious.

Onto the story: About two weeks before the start of 8th grade, I went out for tryouts. I’d done this many times before. To me, it was a glorified practice.

I would beat up on all of the newcomers in an attempt to see who would be the best fit for the team.

I even got asked by my coach which kids were the toughest to defend.

I felt fantastic and left the tryout as happy as could be.

It can be hard to be patient.

A week later, emails went out to parents about who had made the team.

I pestered my parents all weekend about the email, but it never came.

This was unusual, but I understood the delay. Lots of kids tried out this time around, and they probably were having trouble weeding through them all.

What?!

Finally, four days after the emails were due to be sent out, I received mine.

It was a two sentence email from the owner of the program, the head coach of my town’s high school team that I referenced before. It read:

“We regret to inform you that your child has not made the RL roster for the 2015/2016 season. Better luck next year.”

I. Was. Crushed.

He really didn’t understand this decision.

I had put so much into this program.

I had been the captain for the past two years.

I couldn’t fathom how this could have happened.

In a panic, I called the only person I could think of: the other co-owner. He was technically not responsible for my age group, but he was a mentor to me. He was the defensive coordinator that I previously mentioned and had been grooming me to be his star defender for years.

There was a reason for this decision.

What he told my parents and I made me sick.

“I’ve got some bad news,” he said, “Joel (the other owner) got fired as the head coach of —– high school. I’m taking his place. He’s hard on money right now, so he only rostered kids who were willing to pay to play fall AND summer ball. I’m so sorry, I’ll see what I can do to get you on the team”

After hearing this, I declined his offer. I no longer wanted to play for Joel. I never wanted to see him ever again.

But OP eventually ended up on another team.

ONE YEAR LATER

By this point, the coach who I talked to on the phone, Marcus, had started his own program (will be referred to as TTL to protect my identity), and I happily accepted the first captainship in the team’s history.

I was now playing summer ball for TTL, and our first tournament was rapidly approaching.

It was the summer of 2016, the summer before my freshman year, and I was fired up. This was my first time back in the club circuit since I’d been cut, and you wouldn’t believe the first team we played.

I think you can guess.

TTL vs. RL was the kickoff game of the tournament.

I took the field, matched up against all of the boys that I had led just a year ago, and I was TICKED OFF.

I think my stats in that game were something like 12 strips, 8 balls batted, 2 assists and a coast-to-coast goal (the best statline in my career, to this day).

We wiped the floor with my old team, 17-7. I received the game ball.

He congratulated the rival team.

Hyped up on adrenaline and freshly renewed rage, I stormed over to RL’s tent, where all of my old teammates remained, getting debriefed by the coach.

I interrupted, walked over, and shook Joel’s hand. I congratulated the team on a hard-fought battle.

Thinking I must have forgotten, Joel treated me like a returning hero. “So, JBrownie, anything else you want to say to the team?”

It couldn’t have gone more perfectly.

He was honest.

Delightedly, I told my teammates, as well as the parents, coaches, and other age groups of RL exactly why I traded my RL jersey for a TTL one.

I watched with glee as the color drained from Joel’s face.

I shook my friend’s hands, invited them to tryouts for next season’s TTL team, and walked away.

Yikes! It didn’t end well for RL.

At the next tryouts, I learned from my former teammates (who had defected to TTL) that Joel had spiraled out of control.

As more and more talent left the team, he became more and more erratic.

He stopped paying the bills for the turf lights, he showed up to practice drunk and worked the kids that remained into the ground in an attempt to make them ready to destroy TTL the next time RL played us.

It worked out okay for OP but not for Joel.

RL shut down less than 6 months after my speech.

The coaches had quit, the talent had left, and the money had long since dried up

I remain a captain of TTL and am now a starter on the high school team he was fired from.

As for Joel, I monitor him closely. He recently lost his house, picked up his 3rd DUI, and is actively serving an 18-month sentence in the state penitentiary.

I feel conflicted about this story. Joel lost his job and had to make the tough decision to pick players who could play two seasons instead of one so he could afford to pay the bills. It worked out okay for OP, but there’s no reason for him to delight in Joel’s downfall.

Let’s see how Reddit responded.

This person found the story satisfying.

Another person thinks he did the right thing.

But this person offers a different perspective.

And another person wonders if something else was going on.

Here’s the real question: Why did the coach lose his job at the high school?

Perhaps he was up to no good or doing something shady that caused him to get fired.

Getting fired was the beginning of the end for him.

At least there’s another club to play for now, so the players can continue to enjoy the sport they love.