It was much like any other Spring Saturday. The limo arrived to pick me up at 7. The paparazzi, once again, had been thrown off the trail, and we had them convinced that I was skiing in the Alps. Amanda and I recently fired the nanny, so we had to keep an eye on the children ourselves. It can be hard on Amanda, because my fans can be so demanding of my time. Between swapping jets, stretch hummers, and private helicopters, being the wife of a sponsored athlete can be tough. For the kids, being the child of someone with such a great deal of notoriety can be confusing, and often times a little scary. I never asked for this body. I never asked for the talent. Being a multi-sport athlete from Byhalia, MS. is not all autographs and glitter, but I accept it for what it is. What I am about to tell you is a typical of the life of an athlete of my level, and I hope that you can learn a little from it.
My family and I were escorted to a small town in northern Mississippi where I would fulfill a contractual obligation through one of my many sponsorship endorsements, and compete in a 5K event put together by Starting Gun Event Management. I would address media questions, sign bibs, kiss babies, and shake the hands of the people that want to know my secrets. My running prowess is regarded by most as the best that has ever been, but for me it is just another thing that comes naturally. It is mostly the way I glide on asphalt, but also the way in which my body seems to never fatigue. There is very little sweat when I run, and I just seem to always have a calmness with each of my breaths. I am basically a cardiovascular Picasso. A masterpiece of physique. The Tarahumara refer to me in most of their stories which involve running, or people of mystery and passion. Beefbratbeerzuka is my given tribal name, or “The Bronzed Beefy Beautiful One” is the literal translation. Dr. Romanov Pose has studied my natural gait for years now, and has used my grace to profit through books and training. It seems strange to me that my fans are so interested in how I can run the way that I can, when to me it is all only too natural. At the commencement of the event, I would be asked to say a few words to the participants and spectators of the 5k . Those who were not too overcome by emotion by the depth and wisdom that I shared with them, would participate in the race. Most, however, would stand in awe, and enjoy the tear which I moved them to shed. I would run like I always do, the way in which Steve Prefontaine always spoke . I would match and surpass not only the speed, but with added grace, that in which Prefontaine exuded. Another event, another victory for “Beefbratbeerzuka”. Once again, I would win first place in the category of 250lb, almost 40year old males, with beards, big tits, and bacne division. I would dominate with a mind boggling time of about a half hour. It’s mind numbing, I know.
Much like the Kennedy’s after the shots were fired from the grassy knoll, I was whisked away among a sea of armed guards and a line of bullet-proofed automobiles. My Saturday had only begun. As Amanda sat next to me, in perpetual awe of my physical prowess, my children asked me if they could someday possess the athletic abilities that I demonstrate, day after day. I gently pat them on the head, and try to encourage them to be great, but I also make it clear that the idea of them being blessed with the same natural talents which have been bestowed upon me is “doubtful”. We are off to participate in a volleyball tournament at the Kroc Center of Memphis, which is hosted by Methodist Hospitals.
I am clearly a natural runner. One look at my bulbous physique and the wonkiness of my legs, and any idiot can see that running is my gift. However, volleyball is my passion. Ever since winning the gold medal at the 2008 Beijing Olympics, it has been the people of the volleyball world who have called the loudest to see me perform. I would not disappoint. After a brief ceremony, which was concluded with my sticking my palms into newly poured concrete at the Kroc Center, Amanda and I would take our place on the court. The arena was not large enough to hold all of the people who came to watch my patented “serve and dig”. The Fire Marshal made a few exceptions for occupancy, to allow some extra children the opportunity to watch me play, so that they might grow spiritually. I demonstrated my patented quickness and catlike bursts of speed, which have become the talk of dinner tables all over the country. I knifed and cut through our opponents, leaving most of them confused as to what they had just witnessed. There are very few people who can mange to serve a volleyball over the net 30% of the time, the way that I can. The anticipation that I feel after serving the ball, causes me to cross my legs like a child needing a restroom, and I let out an odd moan, in hopes of carrying the ball over the net (this is what makes my serve so special). I hold the league record for saying, “Oh crap. My bad.” more than anyone else. I have also played matches where I made contact with my teammates more than the ball, whilst saying, “Oh crap. My bad.” I never hit the ground, which is another well-respected stat, and speaks volume about my balance. There were some scoring issues, and some obvious underhanded misdealing with the line judge, that caused our team to come up short of our goal. My sponsorship endorsements were not affected, because our losses clearly had nothing to do with me. We gathered our children in protest and vowed to never play under the watch of such unscrupulous referees again.
My agent informed me that the crowd had become so enraged by my unfair treatment that it was not safe for me to be among the general population for any longer than absolutely necessary. Methodist Hospital had arranged a helicopter to carry me from the roof of the Kroc Center to my next venue. When asked about using a medical helicopter to transport such a healthy life, the hospital was quoted as saying, “what life could be more important than that of such an athlete that we saw play today.” The helicopter would be taking me to Pinckley Playground, where I would, once again, be the celebrity athlete in a charity basketball tournament which tries to provide hope for the hopeless.
The helicopter landed on the giant helipad located at Laura and Paul Pinckley’s abode. Just one look at the poor and unfortunate souls that were attending this event, and I knew that I was at the right place. Clearly most of these people had come from broken homes, with no one around to teach them even what a basketball was, let alone how to shoot it. Some of these men obviously had no running water for which to bathe, and no knowledge of hygiene at all. They all seemed to be deficient in nutrition, as their co-ordination was extremely lacking. I believe that most of them had been made to wear shackles for most of their lives, as their ankles did not seem to have any mobility at all, making jumping impossible. If any of these people ever had roofs over their head’s, there was certainly no electricity. They had all been raised in the dark. I deducted this reasoning because of the clear lack of depth perception, which caused making a basket near impossible. I fear that most of the attendees at this event were probably handcuffed to their quarters as children, as none of them could successfully dribble a ball, and if they could dribble, it required both hands, as if in cuffs. One pass of the basketball to one of these people, and it was clear that they had been beaten most of their lives. As the ball approached them, they would throw both hands in front of their face, turn their heads, and crouch down. I just felt so guilty for being so athletically superior among a group which was ultimately down trodden. I know that each of them looked up to me and wish that they had what I possess, from a physical standpoint. Most just had no hope at all, and some of them were too old to even understand what hope was, Dan especially. Anyways, I made my appearance, collected my check, and returned to my palatial estate, where I would enjoy another evening in paradise.
***Ok. A few of things might have been exaggerated. I will give you the truth.***
This Saturday was similar to a fairy tale. Me and my family, which I am unbelievable proud of, participated in all of those things, a 5K, a volleyball tournament, and a basketball game. I’m here to tell you, I suck at all of them. I’m an overweight, awkward, knocky, unathletic, guy who loves to have a good time. Upon paying admission, or receiving an invite to an event, only I decide my worth on that team or at that event. I love being around the people who enjoy these kinds of things. I enjoyed the pretty weather and new people whom I was allowed to meet. The children were actively meeting new friends and were forced out of their comfort zones, so that they could experience growth in their lives. I had the opportunity to see that much of competition after a certain age or athletic level is strictly on a personal basis, and everyone participating is really just wanting to be accepted and have some fun. I certainly don’t enjoy being “less than average” at athletics, but I accept it. I wish I was the best, but I’m not, and that’s cool.
I try to be the best at showing my kids what it looks like to be the “very best at not being the best.” I want my kids to see what it looks like to have a good attitude. I want them to know that you can bring much to the table, even if encouragement is your strongest move. You can demonstrate a power play in the field of positivity, and even the strongest athlete will need what you possess when the game is on the line. My kids need to see that there is that the first place finisher requires a last place and vice versa. There is fun out there to be had, but only they can decide how much fun that they want to take from the event. There is a lot to be said for being active and trying new things. I want to enjoy what i have of my health and try to use it as often as possible to teach my children through my example, because children learn most of what they know through activities and examples. I wish you a happy, active week, with a lot of sunshine and positivity.
Peace, Love, and all things Beef related.