Coach: A Story of Success Redefined

By Tim Winders

A modern inspirational story about the journey to success with a spiritual revelation.

In the thought-provoking novel Coach: A Story of Success Redefined, Cooper Travis meets the harsh reality of a decision that will destroy him or define him. His path is not always clear, but he is fortunate that a supernatural mentor is prese

• Language: English
• Publisher: SGC Media, LLC
• Release date: May 17, 2022
• ISBN: 9798985857429

Tim Winders

Tim Winders is a strategic coach, author, and host of SeekGoCreate, a podcast, and YouTube interview show. He has worked in the areas of leadership, business, and ministry for almost 40 years. Tim was the guy that looked like he had it all: the big house in a Country Club resort, two businesses valued at over a million dollars each, plus over $15 million in real estate. But, in 2008, the real estate markets crashed. After a slow and painful erosion of his companies, he and his wife were bankrupt and homeless living out of their Honda van by 2013.Fast forward to today. Tim and his wife are still homeless, but they consider themselves essential nomads. They live, travel, and work in their 39-foot motorhome while enjoying the best locations North America has to offer. Through this journey, he is convinced that we must redefine success in order to live our best life. This topic is what he has explored with his guests on the SeekGoCreate podcast since 2019.

Book preview

1

The blue eyes slowly measured the path between the hand and the gun.

In the middle of the massive desk was a Smith & Wesson .44 magnum begging to be picked up. It would take the energy of a crane to move his hand. The seconds felt like hours as he stared at the gun while attempting to reach from the arm of his Italian leather chair to the marble top desk only inches away. That simple movement drained him as his hand flopped and rested on the desk’s edge. It would take a few seconds to regain the strength needed to move again.

The eyes focused on the gun.

Twelve inches away.

Stretch.

Ten inches away.

Stretch a little more.

The hand was slowly inching towards the cannon that would end his life.

For someone that was always in control, his hand now had a mind of its on.

One more stretch, but still out of reach. The hand would now need the body’s cooperation to connect with the gun.

Just six inches of space separated life from death.

His steady and methodical breathing were the only sounds to be heard in the cavernous office. That stillness gave no indication of the emotions swirling through his body. He had the ability to appear calm on the outside even when churning with stress and strain on the inside. Business associates and acquaintances said he had ice water in his veins and that he never showed emotion. Even those closest to him could never tell what was going on inside his head.

But like a volcano building up as it gets ready to blow, the constant pressure that had been forming for years was about to bust to the surface in a mighty explosion. If there really was ice water in his veins, it was boiling over at this moment.

His heart beat so hard it was straining to stay inside his chest. Sweat beaded up on his forehead, under his arms, and all over his body. The hot lava was making its way to the surface. The only thing spared from the glistening beads of sweat were the cold and clammy palms of his hands.

He leaned forward in his chair to get closer to the gun.

A big drop of sweat rolled down his forehead, over his right eye, and slowly down his face before falling off his chin and splatting on the journal page he had just finished writing.

His eyes locked on the Smith & Wesson.

A soft voice whispered, Pick me up.

He slowly reached across the desk and rested his hand on the gun. The ice-cold metal suctioned to his cold, clammy hand bonding the two together.

Pick me up was whispered again. While the voice was telling him to pick up the gun, a force like magnets held the three pounds of metal to the desk. He was not a gun expert, but years ago he decided that he had to have the classic used by Clint Eastwood in the Dirty Harry movies.

Do you feel lucky? The haunting words uttered by Dirty Harry as he had squinted down that six and a half-inch barrel echoed in his mind. Cooper Travis did not feel lucky. He had every intention of using the powerful gun to blow his head off and release the hot lava inside in a massive eruption.

He lifted the gun and pressed the barrel end into the soft skin between his neck and his chin. The steel barrel felt even colder on his neck than in his hand.

Time stood still.

Everything moved in slow motion.

Should I be nervous?

His breathing slowed, and calm washed over him. The stillness in the air was eerie. Almost as if a presence had overtaken him as he was about to kill himself.

He took one last long deep breath, cocked the hammer, and pulled the trigger.

Click.

Nothing.

Cooper’s eyes flew open, and he pulled the gun away from his neck to study its long sleek barrel. How? How could it not fire? He opened the cylinder and counted six bullets filling the slots. He spun the cylinder and snapped it back in place. He placed his thumb on the hammer and pushed it down as far as he could. When he made a decision to do something, nothing could stand in his way. Even if it was the last thing he would ever do.

He jammed the end of the stainless steel barrel under his jaw.

Click.

Again, nothing.

The pace of his breathing increased.

This makes no sense, he whispered as he pulled the gun away from his neck to inspect it one more time.

The sound of a ringing phone startled him from the trance-like state that had enveloped him. A quick glance at the cell phone on his desk confirmed it was an unknown number.

Not my Angel, he sighed.

He laid the gun on the open page of the leather-bound journal on his desk and spun his chair to gaze out the window of the office building. On any other day, the views from the Houston skyscraper would have been breathtaking. Today, Cooper sat staring at nothing out of his office window. His company occupied the entire thirty-eighth floor of the forty-story building. He still found it difficult to believe he had achieved his dreams and built a multi-million dollar company from the ground up. And now his world had disintegrated like paper in a fire.

Light streamed into the office from the floor to ceiling windows that made up two walls of the corner office. The darkness of all that had occurred recently kept pushing back on the light.

Two years ago, Cooper Travis would have been the last person in the world to attempt to commit suicide. Anyone looking at him from the outside would have thought he led a charmed life. He was the perfect example of a well-groomed, successful business executive. He could never make money as a male model, but he had that lean athletic build, giving him the appearance that he worked out more than he actually did. The small strands of gray in his dark, well-groomed hair made him look just a few years older than his thirty-nine years. He shaved every day and always wore a stiff, starched dress shirt and tie in a business environment. Most days, he wore a suit jacket even when the Houston humidity was at its worst. On his days off, he still shaved and wore slacks with a pressed golf shirt. Not that he took too many days off. Even when he worked weekends, that was his casual attire.

Today, he sat at his desk with his tie slightly loosened. The top button of his now soaking wet shirt was undone allowing some oxygen to flow into his body and brain. The blood had rushed back to his hands, warming them as the rest of his body cooled down. But the heat inside of him needed more air. He was suffocating from the stress and strain of life.

He contemplated whether he had ever known how to relax. He just moved from one goal to another and put out the proverbial fires when necessary. He assumed he could handle the business stress. Apparently he couldn’t. At least not without his Angel by his side.

Cooper sighed as he stared blankly at the blue sky. His Angel was always so positive thinking and telling him everything would be okay. The slow-burning fuse that had caused the explosion inside his soul had started the day she left him.

It may have been the sticky, wet heat of Houston’s August two weeks ago that had caused him to unload on her. Or it could have been the bad news that just kept piling up on him like hot coals. Either way, he had heard her say it will be fine one too many times, and he felt a rage inside that scared him. He prided himself on control, but he knew he was about to blow up.

I don’t think you understand the challenge of my situation, Cooper said with a sharpness that could cut through a solid wall. It’s NOT going to be JUST fine.

I think I do. But even if I don’t, I want to support you. This has been difficult for both of us. It hurts me to see you this way. I love you, baby, and I have faith that everything will somehow work out, Angel replied. The softness in her voice almost made him explode.

I am not sure I can take this anymore, he said through clenched teeth. I think I need some time to be alone.

What do you mean?

Cooper heard the slight rise in her tone. Look, my Angel, I just don’t think it helps to have you around while I am trying my best to save everything.

What? How could you not want me around? Angel’s eyes pierced holes in his soul. I’m your wife! Am I just supposed to leave so you can be alone? Do you want to separate? Or worse? Is that what you are saying, Cooper Travis?

I don’t...I don’t really know what I am saying. Cooper tried to keep emotion from his voice, but a tiny quiver was there. I just need some...some space.

I will give you your space, Cooper Travis. Her calmness vanished as her voice quickly hit maximum decibels. I will give you more than your precious space. But you need to understand that I have stood by you in the great times, and I have stood by you when things were bad. I don’t care if we have money or not. I grew up with nothing, and I can live that way again. I don’t even care if you are in jail. I just want to see more of your heart. I want all of you.

There you go again talking about seeing more of my heart. I really have no idea what you are talking about when you say that.

Maybe you need to figure that out. Here is what I am going to do. I will give you twenty-four hours to rethink your request for me to leave. If you still think you need time to be alone, then I will move out and give you all the alone time you need. How does that sound? Angel stared at Cooper with unflinching brown eyes.

Cooper knew he had lost control of the situation. He didn’t really want Angel to leave, but now he didn’t know what to do or say, so he said nothing.

Ugh. I never know what to think, Cooper, when you have that blank look on your face. I know it helps when you negotiate business deals, but I’m not a business deal. It just makes me think you don’t care. Is that what you want me to think? Because that’s the way it makes me feel.

Cooper opened his mouth and closed it again. He didn’t know how to change the expression on his face. He was frozen.

Angel shook her head, turned, and slammed the door as she walked out onto the back deck.

The next morning she had given him every opportunity to make up for the day before and to stop her from moving out. But he had no idea how to recover and apologize. He tried to talk but nothing came out.

Her leaving felt like a big punch in the gut, but he never let her see that emotion as she packed and left. His face remained stoic, and a smug thought crossed his mind. She will be back. She needs me.

Cooper stared out his office window. He knew he lived a fantasy thinking that she needed him, because in reality, he needed her. His mental and emotional descent accelerated the minute she left. The more he tried to clear his mind and fix his life, the more the darkness closed in. Chasing after money had brought out the worst in him. If he had fooled himself about his need for Angel, what else was he allowing to deceive him? The last two weeks had been torture.

I forced her to leave. Now there is nothing I can do, Cooper whispered. Things are so complicated now. I wish they could be simple again.

He spun his chair around and picked the gun up from the journal. He flipped back to the inside cover page where Angel had written him a note:

---

The Tablet - February 14

---

Cooper,

I am your Angel, and I always will be.

You are facing difficult challenges now. Please know that I am proud of you and nothing can change that.

I know that you have never wanted to slow down long enough to write down your thoughts and memories on paper. However, I do wish that you will accept this journal as a gift that will allow you to share who you are in these pages.

I am honored to be your wife, and I pray that writing in this journal will help you become the man God created you to be.

Your Angel

---

He thought back to the night six months earlier when she had given him the gift.

She was already in bed reading when he walked in from another late night at the office. She had left the gift on his pillow.

I’m sorry, but I do not have anything for you. Cooper picked up the small wrapped gift.

It’s okay. She smiled. I know you have been under a great deal of stress and forgot that today is Valentine’s Day.

He marveled at the lack of anger in her voice as he unwrapped the package and stared at the gift as if he had no idea what it was.

It’s a journal, Angel explained. It will be a great way for you to spend time thinking and writing. Many people say writing in a journal is a secret to their success.

He stared at the leather-bound book and started shaking his head as his shoulders slumped. I appreciate the thought, but I seriously doubt that writing a few words in a silly journal is going to make a dent in the mess I am dealing with. He tossed the gift on the bed and turned to walk toward the bathroom.

Cooper Travis. Angel’s voice was still soft but the firmness of her tone made him stop and turn around. First of all, don’t you mean that ‘we’ are facing? Not just you? I know that you are facing challenges that are tougher than anything you have ever faced in your life. I also know that I cannot begin to understand all the stress you are under. But I know we can make it through this. Together. I don’t care if we have money, houses, or cars. I just want a husband.

She paused and her voice softened.

Right now your body is around, but your heart is always somewhere else. I’m not asking for much. I just need to see a little bit of heart. You haven’t given anyone a slice of your heart in a long time. If ever. Whatever happens to us in the future, you need to change. Your heart needs to soften so you can learn how to love. Cooper, I just thought that this journal could help you start that process.

Cooper watched silently as she reached to turn off her bedside lamp.

I love you, she whispered. She briefly flashed that smile that made him weak in the knees, closed her eyes, and rolled over on her side facing away from him.

He stood for a moment before reaching down to pick up the journal again. The leather cover was etched with the words The Tablet. At the bottom of the cover was the subtitle Be The Person God Created You To Be. Cooper rolled his eyes, let out a deep sigh, and laid the journal on his nightstand before he turned toward the bathroom.

In the past six months, Cooper had only written one thing in the journal—a suicide note on the first page. He stared at the words in front of him.

---

The Tablet – August 24

---

I cannot express how hopeless I feel.

Everything I have lived for has come crashing down around me……

---

Cooper’s eyes blurred and the characters on the page jumbled and spun as he attempted to focus on the words he wrote just thirty minutes earlier.

I can’t even write a decent suicide note, he whispered as he shook his head and stared at the page.

A short knock broke the silence, and his office door opened quickly. Cooper looked up from the journal to see his secretary walking in short, choppy, matter-of-fact steps toward his desk. Her steps slowed as she glanced toward the gun he was pointing at the ceiling.

Susanna, I thought you left hours ago, Cooper said.

I had some cleaning out and loose ends to tie up, she said. She glanced at the gun in his hand again. Is everything okay?

Cooper looked at the gun before responding slowly. Oh…yes… everything is fine. I’m just doing some cleaning up myself. I found a few… a few interesting items in my desk.

Cooper breathed a tiny sigh of relief when Susanna curtly nodded and seemed to accept his reason for having a large gun in his hand. Owning or even carrying a handgun in Texas was not unique. In fact, seeing him with his tie loose may have been a bigger shock to her.

I just wanted to pass a message along from Samuel. He left a message saying that there had been no updates on the sentencing. He doubts you will hear anything until early next month.

I guess it would be safe to say that no news is good news, he said.

I can’t believe it has come to this. The seizing of assets, takeover, and shutdown of the company should have been enough. But to press forward with the criminal charges just seems too much. Susanna took a step forward as the summary of the last year and Cooper’s nightmare punched him in the gut one more time. Are you sure you are going to be okay?

Susanna had been with the company since it started. Seven years seemed like such a long time ago. In some ways, she knew Cooper better than anyone else. Just the sheer amount of time they spent together allowed her to catch glimpses of what really went on inside the calm and neat facade that Cooper lived in.

Cooper nodded silently as she stood in front of his desk.

Is Angel okay? She hasn’t stopped by for your weekly coffee dates in a while?

Uh, yeah. She is traveling. She decided to go stay at a friend’s house in Aspen. I think to get away from the heat. Cooper’s words started to stumble as they came out of his mouth. You know, the hot Houston summer heat. Not any other heat. She’s not here. Not in Houston now.

You don’t seem like yourself. Susanna placed a hand on his desk, leaned forward, and tilted her head to the side making an obvious effort to read what was written in his journal. I’m not used to you being this way. So unsure? Or maybe you are just tired and fatigued? Are you sure you are okay?

Alarm bells went off in Cooper’s head, and he slammed the journal cover shut. He glanced at the gun in his hand, then to Susanna, and then back down at his desk. He had heard the pleading in her voice for him to open up and share. He rarely shared what was going on in his head, and he knew now was not the time to start. I am fine. Everything will work out somehow.

She gave him a slight smile and said softly, Is there anything I can do to help?

She reached across the desk and touched Cooper’s hand that was still holding the gun. The contrast between the cold steel of the gun and the warmth of her hand sent a tingle up his arm to his shoulder. A thought crept into his mind as he contemplated her questions and how he could respond.

Ask her