Look, I’m gonna give it to you straight, brother. You need a wake up call.
And I know you’re this omniscient being; who exudes the infallibility of the Pope, but I’m here to tell you:
You don’t know shit.
So, I’m gonna help you know some shit. I’m you, 19 years from now.
Yeah, you’re gonna have it pretty good. In 19 years, you have a beautiful wife (who’s an engineer, by the way; you make SOME decent choices), two beautiful daughters, a house, a car, a job, and good health.
Life ain’t too bad.
But you’re always gonna have this lingering doubt. This “what if” that eats at the back of your mind. Nagging you like an overbearing helicopter parent. It’s gonna make you shake your head (or “SMH”……..nevermind) to try to knock those thoughts back into your subconscious.
You’re gonna look back at the way you used to be – which is YOU, by the way – and wonder what could have been if you had “only”…………..
So I’m gonna give you some advice.
You know that scene in Back To The Future II when Old Man Biff comes back and talks to young Biff to give him the Gray’s Sports Almanac?
Young Biff is a know-it-all asshole. But eventually, he starts to realize the old blue-hair knew what he was talking about and starts to build an empire.
This is kinda like that.
You can take this and run with it, or leave it. I really don’t give a shit. But there’s one thing you really aren’t going to fully comprehend until later in life:
You need to live your life with everything hanging out.
Balls to the freaking wall, man.
Otherwise, you’ll have regrets.
About what may have been,
if you weren’t such a douche-nozzle at the age of 14.
So, listen up, buddy…………….here goes:
1. You’re tall and a decent athlete.
Don’t get all cocky, jerk-face. Being a decent athlete in a 14-year old Catholic League is a bit like winning a foot race in a nursing home.
Cool. Who gives a shit?
You might think you don’t need to work at your game, regardless of the sport, but while you’re burning daylight with your idiot friends, dubbing mix tapes of Eazy-E while pretending Gatorade is malt liquor, someone out there is getting after it.
You think 15 and 7 in 8th grade is going to translate to those stats in high school basketball without improving?
You’re out out of your goddamn mind, dude.
Get some handles. That drop step works great on 6’1″ centers whose voices haven’t changed, but in a year, they’ll all be as tall as you.
You’ve got a decent “J”, and can hit some free throws. If you can simply learn how to dribble without the ball hitting your foot and going out of bounds, you might have a shot at going somewhere big time.
So put down the damn Genesis controller. NBA Jam will be waiting when you’re done with your workout.
2. You’re about as strong as a paper bag. Wet. From the dollar store. Work on that.
Dude, I get it.
Lifting sucks ass.
But you’ve got the totally wrong approach.
95% of what you do during your hour in the weight room is talk to your workout partners, racking/unracking weights, and recovering from the previous set.
Your actual, timed work is no way any longer than 10 minutes.
Suck it up, man. Please. For 10 short minutes. For the love of God.
Get your ass in that weight room.
Right now, you’re 6’8″, 205 pounds. With some consistent dedication, you could be looking at 6’8″, 240 of solid, brick-shithouse at the end of four years.
Think the Xavier Musketeers could use that on their roster?
If you start to develop some real-man strength in the off season, it’ll translate QUICKLY into better performance.
Your post moves will improve, your rebounding will improve, your agility will improve, your fastball will improve, your speed will improve.
Your life will improve.
And you’ll stop being such a little, intimidated bitch when someone with some big boy size stares you dead in the eye in the pre-game warmups.
But you’re gonna have to be smart. And that means…………………….
3. You have 3 exercises: Squats, Deadlifts, and Bench.
Anything else needs to be eliminated. You wanna do some curls?
Do ’em when you’re 25.
You have this very limited window of opportunity here. You’re growing like a freaking weed. Your testosterone is through the roof. And that stuff gets you straight up JACKED. No pun intended.
Start light, get your form down, and go find a real coach. In the future, you’ll have this shit called “YouTube” where every jerk-off on the planet who’s ever performed an exercise will tape it, pretend to be an expert, and put that shit on blast for all to see.
But this is 1994, my friend. Al Gore just invented the internet like a week ago.
But you need a REAL strength coach. Not your basketball or baseball coaches. They don’t know much about lifting or being strong.
Not your old man. He’s a good dude and he tries hard, but his athletic knowledge of baseball or basketball pretty much capped out when you were in the 6th grade.
A real coach.
Someone who will show you good form, teach you the movements, hold you accountable, and show up at the house and drag you by your face if you sleep in and are late for a workout.
There’s a guy in Kansas. Name is “Mark Rippetoe”. Find him. Trains at a gym in Wichita Falls. Show up at his doorstep. With beer and cash. And beg him to teach you.
And when he speaks, listen.
And those 3 exercises: Squat, Deadlift, and Bench Press? Do nothing else until you get to college and your university strength coach makes you do other stuff.
Monday. Wednesday. Friday. Squat, Deadlift, and Bench Press. Always trying to put more weight on that bar.
Become a man.
4. Just because your buddy’s daddy bought him a 4-Runner doesn’t make you a baller.
Or him for that matter.
Go get a job.
Earn your own money.
5. Eat big after you lift.
Make Mom stop at the store and buy a gallon of whole milk for every day of the week.
Then drink it.
Anything else you eat is up to you.
But your goal, every day, is to polish that milk off.
I know what Mom will say: “I don’t want you to eat all that fat! It’s bad for you!”
This is a huge bullshit myth that will be debunked in the new millenium.
Mom’s misguided. Most of the Baby Boom Generation are.
If she won’t do it, walk your ass to the store.
Buy the milk.
And smash it.
Make it happen.
This will ensure you have enough protein, sugar, and fat to make those muscles grow. Gain some size. Fill out those saggin’ khakis.
Which reminds me: Stop sagging your khakis. You’re white. And from the ‘burbs. You go to a Catholic school. You’re about as hard as a Stay-Puft.
Trust me on both of those items.
The milk AND the khakis………….
5. Take off that obnoxious hemp necklace.
You look like a toolbox.
So there it is dude. Easy, simply to follow instructions.
The rest? Easy. Work hard. Go to bed. Lift, eat, play. Have a good time.
But start living your life like an animal.
You’ll reap the benefits and maybe you won’t flame out after a shitty, two-year college baseball career.
You don’t want any regrets, my friend.
And speaking of baseball, look up the name “Eric Cressey”. And beg Mom and Dad for the money to go work with him during the summer.
It’ll be worth your while.
33-Year Old You
P.S. Almost forgot; SUPER IMPORTANT: When you’re 17 and one of your shit-for-brains buddies thinks it’s a good idea to knock over mailboxes in random neighborhoods, don’t.
Instead, go home.
Or you’ll get taken into the police station.