Inception of my Idiosyncratic Path
My path to professional football started on cross country skis. When I was six years old I joined the town’s youth cross country program. At the top of my age bracket, I participated in my first race and on a sunny day sprinted around a short, flat, course, dominating the competition to win by a large margin. I took off sprinting on my rented skis and never slowed down. I was happy with my blue ribbon.
Accordingly, for my second race, my parents moved me up into the next age bracket, although unbeknownst to them, the race organizers prided themselves on having the most grueling racecourses on the circuit. Race day was cold and windy with driving snow. Applying my experience from my previous success to this race, I started out in a sprint, leading for a couple hundred yards until reaching the first hill, where I rapidly tired and was overtaken by the stronger kids in the pack. A fall on the subsequent downhill put me in last place. Eventually, I came out of the woods into a large field and seeing my competitors’ lead grow, I hustled into a stiff headwind.
Exhausted and cold, I was relieved to round a bend and hear cheers. As I picked up the pace and crossed the finish line, race officials informed me that I had just finished the first of two laps. Misty eyed, I told my dad I wanted to stop. Thankfully, he said I must finish. I started on my second lap as the top competitors completed their races. Although I finished the race in dead last, I realized later on that the last place finish was surprisingly more rewarding than the easy, first place finish of the previous race because it provided far more physical and mental growth.
Cross country skiing continued until I was in middle school and remained a character- building experience. Below are additional experiences in my young life that provided important athletic and life lessons:
Getting cut
In middle school and high school, basketball was my passion. I was a gym rat, playing wherever I could, doing whatever it took to get better.
My sophomore year I didn’t make the varsity basketball team. I was crushed. The feeling of being cut from thar team still stings a few decades later. Fortunately for me, there was a junior on the JV team who had been dealt a rougher hand than me. He was an excellent athlete, smaller and quicker. Our games complimented each other well and we didn’t lose a game all season.
My athletic teammate went on to be drafted by the Minnesota Twins and played middle infield for several seasons in their organization before a career ending shoulder injury. I went on to become one of the top basketball players in the state and had the opportunity to play D1 basketball, prior to my own profession in athletics.
My high school basketball coach was a good man and an excellent coach. He had a large influence on my future success. However, looking back, it was likely the only New England high school program to have two future professional athletes, sophomore and a junior, on a JV team. Consequently, I learned to work through discouragement and disillusion and to not put too much faith in another’s opinion. What matters most is the trust in yourself. Trusting yourself empowers you to handle whatever life (or a coach) throws at you and the subsequent strength gained from the experience reinforces that trust.
False enthusiasm
I had a linebacker coach that required players to celebrate in practice, not just during scrimmages, but during basic drills too. Whenever a player made a good play, the coach expected the linebackers to jump around, chest bump, high five, helmet whack, the whole deal. Initially, I viewed this as silly and odd.
He said, “false enthusiasm is better than no enthusiasm.” With time, I realized he was right. I started to experiment with the notion and personally validated his theory. If you didn’t feel excited, but yelled encouragingly at your teammate and then gave him a good old head butt while he yelled encouragingly at you, you both ended up more excited.
I learned that this is true of almost any feeling. It is better for behavior to drive feelings than feelings to drive behavior. High performing people learn that if you are committed to being successful in a demanding endeavor, you can’t only train when you feel like it. In fact, most high performers know you train whether you feel like it or not (and often you don’t), but once you start the behavior (the training), your psychology changes and you are much more enthused about your pursuit.
You CAN coach speed
Athletes and coaches alike love to quip, “you can’t coach speed.” I find this correct to a degree. I was not born with “fast genes”. In order to improve, I asked plenty of questions and did a lot of research to learn about training and technique as well as tracked what was working and what needed work. I proved to myself that with the right genes, guys who rarely get off the literal and figurative couch can still be fast, but someone with slightly inferior genes, can be faster by putting in the work.
Overcoming my biggest athletic weakness encouraged me to approach all aspects of my athleticism in the same way. This determination to close the gap between my performance and my potential has benefited all aspects of my life.
What hard things have we done in the past that provide us with the confidence to accomplish hard things in the future? What disillusionment have we overcome? What do we need to explore with curiosity to improve our craft? Let’s get after those things with enthusiasm. – Spiral up
