“To see a man beaten not by a better opponent but by himself is a tragedy.” Cus D’Amato
Throughout this whole blog series on “Be Perfect Today”, I’ve harped on the mental discipline of training. I’ve ranted on about being perfect. A day ago I received a FB msg from a ‘friend’ who strongly suggested that what I was saying was, in essence a bunch of BS – that there was no way a person could hold a perfect contest diet for 8-10-12 weeks or longer. Well…I disagree.
Several times in my past I’ve been absolutely perfect in dialing down for a show. As I’ve said many times, I added nothing to the plan and I took nothing away from the plan. Nothing went in my mouth that wasn’t supposed to. Not one minute of cardio went undone. So when I get on my team members, I already know that perfection can be attained. I did it. Many times.
Now before we go on, let’s get one thing straight. I’m not talking about being perfect every single day of my competitive career, which spans almost 33 years. That’s foolish to imagine that anyone could do that, or would want to do that. I like my burgers, fries, pizza, and cake just like everyone else, but when it’s time to flip the switch, I flip it. End of story.
Two instances that come to mind of perfection for me was years ago. The first one was what I call my ‘Yellow Trunks’ look. For 12 straight weeks, 7 days a week, 24 hours a day, I was perfect. And the results of being perfect showed contest day. Not only did I have my best look ever up to that point, I’d put myself in a position to do well, winning my class, the Overall, and Best Poser. That was in 1995.
The second perfect prep was when I was challenged by my long-time good friend, Turk Fickling. Turk and I have had this running ‘feud’ for years on who’s the better coach. We’re both good in our own ways. There are things I know and do that he doesn’t, and there are things he knows and does that I don’t. But the bottom line is, we both get results. Well, Turk put a now good friend of mine in a show we did down in Oregon back in the mid-to-late 90’s. He told me he was putting in a guy named John Shepherd and that John looked pretty good. Turk was good at playing mind games, and I figured he was playing one with me then. Turk told me that his boy, John, would take me out – that I didn’t stand a chance against him. Well, I’d been on a winning streak and didn’t take Turk seriously. Oh I trained hard like I usually did, but I wasn’t perfect on my diet and cardio. The phrase I like to use is, “Excellent, but not perfect.” Good enough for a very good look, but not my best look.
To make a short story long, the morning of the event Turk called me and said, “Dude, my boy is looking awesome. I think he’s gonna get you…” For the first time during the contest prep I was a bit nervous as I knew I hadn’t done justice to my own prep.
“What if Turk wasn’t playin’ around with me? What if he really does have a guy who looks great and did work?” Now I was mad. Not mad at Turk and John, but mad at myself for not being task-oriented. I’d settled. And now I was fearful that my settling would cost me.
It did. When John peeled off backstage I just stared. He had the look I was accustomed to carrying. He was sliced and diced. Turk just smiled and said, “He looks good, doesn’t he?” I nodded in agreement. Turk said, “Dude, John suffered, but he was perfect this prep. He did everything I told him to do. Didn’t cheat once. I told him he’d HAVE to be perfect to have a shot at you.” I nodded again. I couldn’t be upset at anyone but myself. And I gave John his props for doing work.
Even before prejudging started, I figured John would get me. And he did. He was harder. Hella harder. I had a better shape and structure but his hardness took me out. I’d introduced myself to him earlier but really got to know him after prejudging, and that began a long friendship that carries to this day. And here’s where it gets fun.
Turk started talking trash after the night show. “Dude, my dude kicked your A** and can do it again if he wants to…” Well, that pissed me off. I’m not dumb enough to say I’m unbeatable – hell, I only compete at a buck sixty or so, but I knew that if I was at my best, and John was at his best, I’d probably get him. So I said, “Dude, the Washington Ironman is in one month. Put your boy in. He’ll get spanked, I promise you!” Turk was like, “Uhhh…he’s done for the season. He doesn’t want to do any more shows…” We went round-n-round but eventually Turk said, “Okay, one month. The WA Ironman. He’ll spank you again!” I remember asking, “So you’re saying that if I came in at my best and John was at his best, and let’s face it, he’s already there now…he can’t get better than this, he’ll get me? Turk was like, “Dude, he’ll CRUSH you!” It was on.
For one month I had nothing but perfection on my mind. I knew what I had to do. And I did it. Every. Single. Day. And to make matters BETTER for me, Turk, in all his infinite dumbness, called me every single day egging me on. All that did was add gasoline to an already raging fire. I was afraid but excited. My cardio was off-the-hook as the thought of competing against John again drove me. And Turk calling me every morning helped when I was feeling the effects of zero carbs (except for my ¼ cup of oatmeal in the morning). I’d go to bed thinking about the rematch. I’d wake up thinking about the rematch. I dreamed the rematch. And I never told Turk how his words were helping me. Never told him that is, until a few days before the show. Then I said, “Dude, you have no idea how your trash-talking drove me. I mean, I would’ve done it without all that, but you helped me do it better!” He mumbled, “Really?…” and was quiet. No more phone calls.
The day of the show arrived. We were backstage. John peeled off first. I nodded. He looked every bit as good as he did a month earlier. But this time I wasn’t worried. I’d done work. Turk was like, “Alright man, let’s see!!” I peeled off. Silence. Turk just nodded. I know Turk. He doesn’t give out compliments easily. He gets quiet. He was quiet except for, “You look good, man…”
Prejudging started. I was the last competitor out in our class. I was the first person moved to the center. Stayed there the entire time. Walked off stage and Turk met us backstage. “Okay, man, you might have this…” I laughed. “Dude, don’t EVER talk s**t like that again when you know I can do better.” John finally chipped in, “Hey, I’m right here y’know…”
At the night show, I won. Got my scoresheet and had one’s straight across the board. I’m not bragging, far from it. I’m simply saying that perfection CAN be achieved for a short period of time. You just have to want it bad enough.
How bad do you want it? I’m not talking first place, but I AM talking achieving your best look ever. And hopefully, against your peers, that’ll put you in a position to take first place. But even if you don’t, you didn’t suffer tragedy by beating yourself. Moral of the story? Be perfect not just today but every day for the next 3 weeks. I promise you won’t regret it. Peace…
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