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Quote from: Brock Landers on April 07, 2015, 10:53:27 AMHello there, I play basketball for Duke and I drink my own piss!dude is a beast
Hello there, I play basketball for Duke and I drink my own piss!
Put another way: If you’re losing respect for Bo Ryan for this, consider what you respected him for to begin with. This inability to let go of a loss is a lot nearer to the heart of his success than mystical leadership qualities. The only reason we know who he is is because he’s a hypercompetitive lunatic.When a coach works 20-hour days—when he sleeps on his office couch; when he reviews film until his eyeballs turn to sand; when he hits the recruiting trail hours after his season ends and stays on it until hours before the next one begins; when he does this year after year after year even though virtually all of those years end with some form of disappointment or another—fans and the media sing hosannas to his dedication, without considering the reality that only an insane goddamn maniac with a downright pathological fixation on winning could sustain that dedication for more than a couple of days without collapsing. It’s a job you can’t even get, much less hold, unless you’re ambitious and driven beyond all reason and sense of probability; a dude who can settle for the humanist self-fulfillment of giving it his best shot and forming some great friendships and memories along the way, who handles setbacks with equanimity and perspective and does not seethe and roil and refuse and rage at each one of them, does not come within shouting distance of a Division I job interview. He looks at the job requirements and declines to apply for it. To a man, these people are rough ridin' psychos; most of them, given the choice between a busload of doe-eyed orphans and a shiny trophy, would roll the bus into a gorge and use its crumpled wreck as a stepping stone to get the trophy. And they’re praised and rewarded for it.And then, when one of these goddamn madmen grinds his miserable way within reach—a nine-point lead! seven minutes to play!—of his long-shot goal, the remote summit toward which he orients his entire singleminded existence, and falls short ... fans and sportswriters who know full well (and sometimes even celebrate) the depths of his fanaticism expect him to walk out of the losing locker room 10 minutes later and go, Hey I’m just proud of our guys, it’s been a great journey and we’re all winners because we got to go on it together. Like it’s a team of 6-year-olds who just lost at tee-ball and next he’s gonna take ’em out for pizza and juice. Like he didn’t completely hollow out his life and refill it with nothing but the pursuit of this one game, only to have it snatched away from him by a bunch of fleeting crap he’ll be replaying in his mind for the rest of his bitter life. Like being the kind of guy who could let that stuff go wouldn’t disqualify him from being in position to answer those questions in the first place.
Well it clearly has some health benefits. I mean he's ugly as crap, but my word is he a fantastic athlete. One day he will just be ugly though.
