Ode to a Bad “Coach”

Once upon a midday swelter, as I sat there, helter-skelter,
Benches blazing from the afternoon sun and more
While I sat there, mad and fuming, there the "coach" stand barely moving.
"Coach" I use in a very loose manner, as he was clearly paid to run up the score.
No other reason would come to mind, only this and nothing more.

Ah, a child's baseball game played, for this tournament we had paid
For experience, fun and laughs but the score turned ugly, turned ugly fast.
Tournament teams come from far and wide to feast on those just trying to make strides.
They know the rules better than most and use it to their advantage, as if to boast.
Rules that are new and different and advanced, for kids who not long ago were pooping their pants.
Dropped third strikes, leadoffs and balks, these things more complicated than typical little league walks.

I don't blame the kids for doing what they're told, nay it was that slimy old coach, but I'd had enough and had to approach
"Up 20 runs, don't you think that's probably good? Stop telling your kids to steal bases, you probably know that you should."
He gave a quick glance and then simply turned around, without a word, without acknowledgement or sound. 
Tournament baseball rules and run differential, that's the name of this game, not ability or potential.
That's what my son's coaches told me from the dugout but I couldn't help but wonder what this was all about.

What possibly could be gained by the youngsters at play from a "coach" whose morals were far from okay.
Handled poorly, as poorly as could be, this "coach" was no coach as his actions displayed to me.
Merely a jerk that put winning above all other things, including sportsmanship, integrity, good character and teaching.
Things that make a coach a good coach, for anyone's offspring.

Still my conscience was bothered so at it's behest, I chirped loud enough for all, especially that POS.
I continued with that "coach" until the man in blue asked me to sit, the rules were the rules and this was just it.
Loudly I inquired if he could simply have a chat, maybe impart some wisdom about integrity and class.  
But alas, no dice, so I tried to let this pass, but I couldn't, so fumed at this "coach" that wore an ass for a hat.

h/t to Edgar Allen Poe for the start.

P.S. Eventually I’ll get over it.