Coach Williams at the Luncheon

The smile gets you first,
Then something about his
“Dad gums,” a self-effacing
Style with cornpone, a mix
Irresistible, even to the tough
Guy sportscasters, who
Usually sport evil grins
Like some high school boys
Waiting for the sub teacher
To mess up in math class.

But Roy puts his fork down,
Salad going limp, and he
Takes the floor,
Light blue Tar Heel tie
Flapping as he gestures,
Like an animated comedian,
He’s got everything down
And Jen smiles too, remembering
Last b-ball season, her second row
Seats renewed, even though her
Husband threatens reprisals.

But her calm pleasure topples as
Roy falters, grim worry on his
Face, his hand outstretched to
Catch the wall, supporting himself
Through another dizzy spell, the crowd
Gasps but Roy straightens, smiles,
And continues, holding the podium
Now with both hands, telling how
He often jogged with his players,
Trying to get them to lose weight.