“Tough times don’t last, tough people do.”
(Most members probably don’t even know that Andy is an Ageless member. As soon as he was released by his doctor, he joined the gym. In fact, that’s why we poured the concrete slab leading into the basketball doors. Unfortunately he hasn’t been up there as much as we or he hoped he would because of several setbacks. However, things are looking up, and we’re hoping we’ll all see him a lot more in 2014.)
Dear Andy,
In 5th grade I disliked you because instead of watching cartoons on Saturday morning, I was running up and down a basketball court game after game after game.
In 6th grade I disliked you even more because I thought basketball was all about shooting, scoring, and offense. Instead, you made it about line drills, defensive shuffles, and the shell drill. At times, I didn’t know if I’d even touch a basketball during one your practices.
In 7th grade I despised you because you just wouldn’t let us be satisfied. After losing only 1 game during our junior high school season, instead of allowing us to celebrate and enjoy our successful season, you put us in a basketball tournament in St. Louis the very next weekend. We lost every game but one. Most of our losses were by 15+ points.
In 8th grade I loathed you. We made it to state. What we saw was exceptional talent. What you saw was mediocrity, and you made sure we knew it. We thought we were on top of the hill, while you made sure we knew we were actually at the very bottom. You wanted to prepare us for the climb while we wanted to bask in the sunlight of our success.
During my freshmen and sophomore year, I cursed your name when I saw you. Friday nights were supposed to be filled with fun, excitement, and most importantly, girls. Instead I was stuck in an old, dusty high school weight room with your son as you tortured us with exercise after exercise after exercise. By the time we were done, I didn’t want to go out. I wanted to go to bed.
By the time I was a junior, I had pretty much stopped listening to you. Young males oozing of testosterone and consumed by ego have a tendency to ignore those that try to slip them a dose of reality. I was not immune to that fallacy.
“I’ve learned that people will forget what you said, people will forget what you did, but people will never forget how you made them feel.” – Maya Angelou
And then something changed. It was a gradual, but reached its tipping point when I decided to start Ageless. Being just a year out of college, strapped with $100,000 of student loans, and having zero business experience, starting a gym in Gillespie was probably not my best idea. My fears were later confirmed by my accountant and a few business professionals I consulted. According to them, the possibility of success was slim.
I pushed forward not because of my own ignorance, an indomitable will, or because I had a Steve Jobs’-like vision. I pushed forward because all of those years I spent disliking you actually taught me some of the greatest life lessons a young man can learn.
- Success is not determined by innate talent. It’s determined by hard work, perseverance, and the ability to learn from your mistakes.
- Success is never easy. It’s not sexy, pretty, or clean. It’s dirty, hard, and sometimes ugly. Often times, it’s the small details and the things that no one else wants to do that will determine if you are successful or not.
- Work on improving yourself DAILY. Never settle for mediocrity. Always chase excellence.
- Set a goal, make a plan, and execute. Adjust accordingly.
- Be willing to sacrifice immediate pleasures for long-term goals. You enjoy the shade today because you planted a tree years ago.
- Failure shouldn’t upset you. It should motivate you.
- Ignore the experts. If they knew the outcome, the game wouldn’t even need to be played.
- There are no guarantees in life. Life nor does anyone else owe you anything. YOU owe life something, and that something is giving your best day in and day out.
- Enjoy life. There will be ups and downs. Without the downs, the ups would never be as fulfilling. Smile through the good, the bad, and the ugly.
- Above all, help people. One of the greatest gifts you can give someone in life is helping them achieve his true potential, even when he couldn’t see the forest for the trees.
What I thought was a bitter, evil man torturing children was actually a loving teacher that wanted us to use every ounce of potential we had. I thought I was learning basketball, but really I was learning about life. You were smart enough to know that 10 young males would never sit still long enough to to be lectured about being a good person. As Randy Pausch would say, you threw us a n0 look pass, and used basketball to teach us something much deeper, much more meaningful, and much more useful. Sneaky, sneaky.
When I heard you were in a wreck, and the doctors were uncertain you would make it, not once did I ever doubt you would be back on the sidelines. Not one tear was shed. Not one worry ever surfaced. See, I once witnessed you sit out in 100 degree weather with not a cloud in the sky while wearing all black as you watched us play 3 baseball games (One of my life’s greatest mysteries: Why you decided to “go Johnny Cash” and dress in all black on that day.). You were literally bathed in sweat, and yet you continued to coach us. I saw you drive the grey bomb as we called it from town to town across Illinois and Missouri, taking us from one gym to the next for years. The floor beneath the gas pedal was eroded away so much that you could literally see the road as you were driving over it. I watched you (more times than I care to remember) yell so loudly while your face turned so red (your blood pressure had to spike at over 200mm Hg) at us in gyms with no A/C for 10 straight summers. Not one heat stroke. Not one dizzy spell. A car wreck was no match for you my friend.
Those doctors had no idea what kind of man you were. Uncertain you would make it? C’mon Doc. It’s Coach Easton. Hard work, sacrifice, and perseverance were intertwined in his DNA.
I was right. You survived. Although your road to recovery has had multiple bumps along the way, you’ve kept on chugging. Every challenge has been accepted, and eventually conquered. It’s funny how God only challenges the strong. I assume He teaches us weaker individuals a lot like you did – with no look passes. What better way to teach a lesson about how how fragile life is than using a big, strong coach and a wheelchair.
As I see kids my age that didn’t play sports struggle with life, I realize how blessed I was to grow up with coaches like you, Mr. Joyce, Coach Gray, and my father. You all knew not one of us was going to be a professional athlete, yet you continued to coach us because it was never about being a good athlete. It was always about being a good person. I can now enjoy the shade because of the trees you all planted long ago for me. And that probably goes for all of your former players. You laid the foundation for their current success long, long ago.
So all of those years I spent disliking you was just a huge misunderstanding. My tiny testosterone-filled mine, suffocated by my ego, couldn’t really see what you were doing. I was blinded by my own ignorance. I should, and do love you. You’ve given me more than what I deserved, and without you I wouldn’t be where I am today. This is long, long overdue. Thank you!
To all of the great coaches, teachers, and parents – At times we may challenge you and downright disobey you. You may feel that every fiber of our being hates you. I assure you we do not. We are listening. We are watching. We are learning. Don’t give up on us because one day we will have an epiphany and truly realize all that you have done for us. And once we do, we will forever be in debt to you because without you we don’t stand a chance in this world.
Speak Your Mind