This is it… The end of the road… still, I can’t let go. It’s unnatural.
Regardless, I’m getting ready. I’m training nearly everyday. But I’m saving all my strength for one final attempt. It’ll either make me, or break me, but we won’t know until that fateful day arrives.
Ohhhhh, Reno. I believed, for a brief moment, that you were the answer to my prayers, the cure for my every woe. But there is no mistaking the fact that I, clearly, was mistaken. It seems that your bright lights and flashing signs weren’t enough to wake me from this nightmare that is my nonathletic reality. All your talk of lucky breaks and big chances, of breaking the odds and creating miracles were not enough to put a little of your magic in my boots. I am, in Reno, the same dunkless fool who escaped the Emerald City of Seattle with his dreams of the famed Wild West, blessed home of the Tomahawk Jam, resting place of the beloved Windmill.
But this sad display will not deter me one iota. I have six weeks left… 42 precious days in which to prove myself worthy of the seemingly endless idolatry that my legions of fans have bestowed upon me. Your praise is well deserved. I am as amazing as you have always thought me to be, I assure you… If not moreso. Be patient, and I will lead you to the glory that only ThisGuy could provide.
Till next week….
I tend to require a far more tangible sense of control than a “live-by-the-seat-of-your-pants” lifestyle affords, which, I’ve begun to realize, might very well shelter me from avoidable mistakes, but this overt cautiousness might also have the potential to lead to rather disastrous results. One might wake up one morning to realize that he has been working the same job for nearly seven years, a job that he is neither passionate about, nor particularly good at, for that matter. He could come to the frightful realization that what he once valued as comfort and contentment, without warning or notice, had mutated into complacency and laziness. What started as an innocent, wholehearted pursuit of ability and stability became a devolution into stagnancy, depression, and an outright avoidance of reality.
And where could all of this possibly lead, if not to Reno?
What was initially supposed to be a one-month stint in The Biggest Little City in the World, in which I was to live with a friend as he helped me to expand and develop IfThisGuyCanDunk, turned into an outright departure from Seattle and relocation to the Nevada desert, cat and furniture in-tow.
So with that being said, I apologize for the delay of dunk attempt #13, but as you can see, I’ve been busy with a little soul-searching, not to mention packing and planning, tying up loose ends and saying goodbyes. As of yesterday, I am officially a resident of Reno, Nevada, and as I am mostly moved in and fairly settled at this point, I intend to pick up where I left off.
With my 30th birthday only 51 days away, it’s officially “crunch time”. So stay tuned, because ThisGuy is prepared to awe and astound. My resolve has never been stronger, and my calendar has never been so frighteningly empty. I personally guarantee success. You aren’t going to want to miss what’s to come. And by that, I mean ridiculous, filthy dunks the likes of which you haven’t seen since the CBA’s Adam Waddell. See you soon.
I am beyond thrilled. IfThisGuyCanDunk on ESPN.com!!!! Amazing!! Check it out: http://sports.espn.go.com/espn/page2/story?page=caple/090916
I thought, as close as I was last week, that this would be the day that all my dreams would be realized; that I would be able to walk down the street with my head held high, knowing that I had made the 17-year old version of me look foolish and weak; well, more foolish and weak than I actually was. I thought that, after today, I would be able to relax and coast through my 30th birthday having proven myself more physically fit and mentally tough than I was over a decade ago; that I could enter my 30′s knowing that I had reversed the aging process and that those silly theories of “time” and “nature” simply didn’t apply to me. I was mistaken… at least for now.
My frustration is diluted only slightly by the fact that I still have ample time in which to accomplish this feat. But only slightly, because, truth be told, I am not a patient man. In fact, I’ve already considered hiring a stunt double on several occasions, and in fact, I probably would have done so by now, however, I’ve found that it is much more difficult to locate a man my height and build who can not only dunk a basketball, but who also has the testosterone levels necessary to grow a massive, face-swallowing beard the likes of which I am currently rocking.
So I suppose it’s up to me. God knows none of you are going to do it. If something incredible and mind-blowing is to be done, I suppose I’m the one to do it. That’s all there is to it. So, please, sit back down in your Lazy Boy recliner. Stick your hand back down into that bucket of The Colonel’s Extra Tasty Crispy and wash it down with your 44oz Cherry Coke Slushie. Go outside and enjoy your pack of Marlboros Reds, and take a load off. Leave breaking the laws of physics and gravity to me. I’m on it. Make yourself comfortable. I’ll see you next week.
So it seems that a week off of workouts was exactly what I needed. I got in some yoga, a couple massages, had Wendy’s for dinner last night… and I’m feeling like a hundred dollars.
So it appears that, despite all prior evidence to the contrary, I am not the super-human that you were all surely beginning to believe me to be. As it turns out, I am a mere mortal, just like the rest of you common folk, subject to all the tedious and trivial laws of nature as everybody else. I think that the video this week proves that I have officially reached the end of Phase One of my training regiment. All the experts say that even the most talented and gifted athletes need a week of rest about every 7-8 weeks of strenuous training, so I’m right on schedule with the big boys. This setback is no one’s fault, really. Well, except mine. Truth be told, on account of the fact that its boring and it hurts and I hate it, I haven’t really been stretching… at all. And now, as probably could’ve been predicted, it’s apparently biting me in the ass. But fear not, kind people, a little tightness in the legs and a sore hip are not going to keep this average athlete down. I am certain that this is nothing that a little relaxation and a few sessions in my short shorts at the yoga studio can’t fix. I’ve already started filling the kiddie pool with Ben Gay, so recovery should be a breeze. So let it be known… I may be taking the week off of training… but this has only strengthened my resolve. When I return, I’m driving straight to Dunksville… Population: Me. See you next week.
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