I have always been a defiant person. I'm not really proud of that characteristic, but I am working on it. If I am told that I will love something, I will try to find a way to prove you wrong. I do not know why I do that. I'm sure that I missed out on a lot by being stubborn. Like sports. Especially the gritty 1970's football. Real 'North Dallas Forty' type men with beards like Lucas Parker and mojos like mofos.
With so many brothers and 3 channels on TV, football was on every weekend. There was no cable. No Internet. No second TV and no older brother to take me to the movies. Why? The fucking game was on, that's why. To this day, I can defiantly tune out a football game. The whistle has a Pavlovian effect on me and I feel sleepy. My husband can hear the crowd scream from two rooms away and will come in and say "What just happened?" I don't know. I watch the Super Bowl for the commercials and the food. I will go to a stadium for the beer. But I will not know the score. I know the signal for touchdown and I think the throwing of a flag is a stupid way to signal anything. Truly. I like the cheerleaders and the energy, but I have no clue what is happening. And I don't care. Period. Because I was told football was the love all, end all. And no one tells me what to like. Stubborn.
But I did like Joe Namath. He was stubborn, too. Defiant. He made everyone in my living room mad as hell and awestruck, all at once. He rocked the boat. I liked him because when the scouts came to his college dorm, he had the stones to ask for $200,000 and a Lincoln Continental-no one asked for that much back then. I liked that he used to say "I can't wait for tomorrow, 'cause I get better looking every day." He wore pantyhose and white shoes. He was on an episode of The Brady Bunch. And you didn't question him because he was just that good. When everyone else ran safe, Broadway Joe went long. Truly, he was the greatest quarterback that anyone had ever seen back then. He played for the Jets till '76, then for the Rams for one year. Then Joe Willie was gone. He later went on to be a Goodwill ambassador for the Jets and kicked alcoholism. Like a boss.
I often wonder what he thinks of football today? Is he blown away by the talent? The money? Athletes are faster. Stronger. They train differently. The players have evolved into bigger machines. And I wonder if he questions whether Broadway Joe, in his prime, could keep up with these guys?
I think everyone has a Broadway Joe. Not just in football, but in life. Now I'm an adult and I have a CrossFit Namath. By the time I got to watch him compete, I had been watching him on the Internet for several years. The first time I saw him, he was walking past me and I was like, "Holy shit!" It was surreal. Here is this man that I admire for his dedication, strength and attitude. And I was going to watch him do a workout. My stomach hurt. I felt short of breath. I have never wanted to see anyone win like I did that day. He didn't. But watching him compete was exhilarating! I screamed and yelled. I watched every move. At one point he looked over and when he left the floor he said "Thank you" to me. I didn't say a word. I didn't know what to say. My Namath spoke to me.
All of the sudden, my brothers and Dad weren't crazy. Or selfish. I understood. When you admire a team or an athlete, sometimes watching them compete is the best thing ever. Win or lose. You can't compare it to anything else. It is just amazing to watch their drive.
My Namath did better as the competition went along. Damn, it was exciting to watch him inch up in the standings. But the other guys were a little faster. I saw my Namath look around during one workout as he was passed by another athlete. There was a look of shock. It didn't happen very often and he wasn't expecting it. He looked like he was hit with a bucket of cold water. Stunned, then determined to catch this guy, he dug in and fought like hell to win. He didn't. I felt like I had been punched in the gut. Then it was over.
Later, there standing alone was CrossFit Joe. Hands on the fence, leaning forward, watching the heat that he should have been in. Tired from the workout he just finished, I didn't know what or if I should say anything. I will never forget that picture of him. You could read everything about him. He seemed vulnerable and human. Just a guy from a Box somewhere. I felt like he was wondering if he still belonged. But he was still one of my CrossFit heroes and I just couldn't let the moment pass. So, I tapped him on the shoulder.
"Hey, Nicole." Mother of God, I thought I would vomit right there. He knows me. "I...I don't have anything to say," he said.
"That's okay," I said. "I just want to say something. This weekend means a lot to me. I have watched your videos for two years and I really admire you. I like how you dig in your heels and fight. I think you're doing a great job. And it means a lot to me to have finally met you. I just wanted to tell you that."
"I'm sorry if it is disappointing for you," he said.
"How can it be disappointing? You're....you're like my CrossFit Joe Namath." Then I got all teary looking, because I am a colossal dork.
I felt like a giant bag of wieners. But CrossFit Joe just gave me a hug and said "Thanks, man." I wished him luck and excused myself. . And the next day, he kicked ass. Like a boss. Because that is what guys like him do. And I yelled and screamed and jumped up and down. It was a great day.
I think a lot about how CrossFit has become more competitive and I worry that I am getting older. And I wonder if on a much larger scale, do top CrossFit athletes get scared too? I have new athletes come in all the time who pick up skills like lightning. Or match my pr when we are testing their maxes. And they ask "Is this good?" What must the Games competitors think? They are trainers. They see the talent out there. It is exciting and scary, all in one parcel. I worry that I may let down my athletes by being slower at times. Or scaling when I need to scale. But then I think about Broadway Joe. Two years before retiring, Joe Namath was the NFL's Comeback Player of the Year. So, there's hope for me yet.
I think everyone has a Broadway Joe. Not just in football, but in life. Now I'm an adult and I have a CrossFit Namath. By the time I got to watch him compete, I had been watching him on the Internet for several years. The first time I saw him, he was walking past me and I was like, "Holy shit!" It was surreal. Here is this man that I admire for his dedication, strength and attitude. And I was going to watch him do a workout. My stomach hurt. I felt short of breath. I have never wanted to see anyone win like I did that day. He didn't. But watching him compete was exhilarating! I screamed and yelled. I watched every move. At one point he looked over and when he left the floor he said "Thank you" to me. I didn't say a word. I didn't know what to say. My Namath spoke to me.
All of the sudden, my brothers and Dad weren't crazy. Or selfish. I understood. When you admire a team or an athlete, sometimes watching them compete is the best thing ever. Win or lose. You can't compare it to anything else. It is just amazing to watch their drive.
My Namath did better as the competition went along. Damn, it was exciting to watch him inch up in the standings. But the other guys were a little faster. I saw my Namath look around during one workout as he was passed by another athlete. There was a look of shock. It didn't happen very often and he wasn't expecting it. He looked like he was hit with a bucket of cold water. Stunned, then determined to catch this guy, he dug in and fought like hell to win. He didn't. I felt like I had been punched in the gut. Then it was over.
Later, there standing alone was CrossFit Joe. Hands on the fence, leaning forward, watching the heat that he should have been in. Tired from the workout he just finished, I didn't know what or if I should say anything. I will never forget that picture of him. You could read everything about him. He seemed vulnerable and human. Just a guy from a Box somewhere. I felt like he was wondering if he still belonged. But he was still one of my CrossFit heroes and I just couldn't let the moment pass. So, I tapped him on the shoulder.
"Hey, Nicole." Mother of God, I thought I would vomit right there. He knows me. "I...I don't have anything to say," he said.
"That's okay," I said. "I just want to say something. This weekend means a lot to me. I have watched your videos for two years and I really admire you. I like how you dig in your heels and fight. I think you're doing a great job. And it means a lot to me to have finally met you. I just wanted to tell you that."
"I'm sorry if it is disappointing for you," he said.
"How can it be disappointing? You're....you're like my CrossFit Joe Namath." Then I got all teary looking, because I am a colossal dork.
I felt like a giant bag of wieners. But CrossFit Joe just gave me a hug and said "Thanks, man." I wished him luck and excused myself. . And the next day, he kicked ass. Like a boss. Because that is what guys like him do. And I yelled and screamed and jumped up and down. It was a great day.
I think a lot about how CrossFit has become more competitive and I worry that I am getting older. And I wonder if on a much larger scale, do top CrossFit athletes get scared too? I have new athletes come in all the time who pick up skills like lightning. Or match my pr when we are testing their maxes. And they ask "Is this good?" What must the Games competitors think? They are trainers. They see the talent out there. It is exciting and scary, all in one parcel. I worry that I may let down my athletes by being slower at times. Or scaling when I need to scale. But then I think about Broadway Joe. Two years before retiring, Joe Namath was the NFL's Comeback Player of the Year. So, there's hope for me yet.
Most importantly, I am blessed with a wonderful husband who is the strongest man I know and the one I admire above all others. Happy Anniversary this Sunday! Thank you for loving and accepting my Colorful view on things!
... 'I think everyone has a Broadway Joe. Not just in football, but in life' ~~ I think you are right, Nicole!
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