Book 1 Amateur Every artist was first an amateur. -ralph waldo emerson Amateur is a term that is often associated with sports, but it is really a way of being that applies to all fields. The word comes from the Latin amator, meaning "lover of" or "enthusiast." An amateur is someone who engages in any activity for the love of it. An amateur athlete plays for the love of the game, without the pressure of performance expectations or financial incentives. An amateur musician plays for the love of it, without the pressure of making a living at their craft. An amateur writer writes for the love of it, without concern of who, if anyone, will read their writing. The amateur is free of expectations, obligations, external pressures, and financial considerations. Here in the early stages, the goal is to find the thing you will eventually fully commit to. The thing you have potential in. Play different sports, try different instruments, take painting classes and acting classes and improv classes. Experiment. Be open. But always be ready to put the work in. You Can't Miss a Day In the summer going into my freshman year of high school, I was at a lacrosse camp at Loyola University. Every college coach I'd ever heard of was there, from every school I'd ever seen a shirt for. At the end of a morning session, the players packed into an auditorium for a talk from one of the all-time coaching legends and former Johns Hopkins head coach, Tony Seaman. He began with a simple question: "Who here wants to play at a Division 1 school?" Every kid in the room raised their hand. "I'll tell you how to do it," he said. "And on top of it, I'll tell you how to get a full scholarship to play at a college of your choice. Who here wants a full ride?" Every hand shot up. "It's a simple formula," he said. I remember feeling so present and focused on each word that it felt like I was levitating. "There's one thing you have to do. From this day forward, through your senior year of high school," Seaman told us, "you have to shoot a hundred shots a day. That's it. You shoot a hundred shots a day from now through your senior year of high school, I guarantee you will get a full scholarship to the Division 1 college of your choice." "Do you know how long it takes to take a hundred shots?" Seaman asked. "Thirty minutes. Who here can find thirty minutes to take a hundred shots?" Every kid in the room raised their hand again. "Here's the caveat," Seaman said. "You can't miss a day. Not a holiday. You can't miss when it's pouring down rain. You can't miss because you had a game the night before-or the day of. You can't miss a day because you're on vacation. And if you can't find a goal, make one up. "You have to find a way." I don't know about the other kids, but I walked out of that auditorium and did what Coach Seaman said. Every single day, rain or shine, I practiced. Everywhere I went, I would find a wall to throw against. A goal to shoot on. From my home state of Maryland to New York, California, and Washington, to England, Italy, Spain, Israel, and France-me, a stick, and a ball. For twenty years. And he was right. I was offered a full scholarship to over a dozen universities. As fortune would have it, I decided to commit to the school where Seaman had his best season as head coach-Johns Hopkins University. It doesn't matter how ambitious or speculative the goal, you get there by taking one small step after one small step. Thirty minutes a day. One hundred shots on net, two hundred words on the page, three hundred push-ups, conditioning. Whatever reps are in your sport, in your business, in your chosen field, you do them. One after another until you hit the magic number. And there is only one caveat: You can't miss a day. Put On Your Blinkers In the pursuit of becoming a champion, there exists a profound yet often overlooked skill: the ability to give your undivided attention. We live in an age of constant distraction, making focus a rare gem-one that will separate you from the ordinary. Racehorses have a field of vision that extends to 350 degrees-they can see to their left, right, and behind. That's far more than the human field of vision, which is around 180 degrees. In the late eighteenth century, a trainer named Henry Jennings began using what's called "blinkers"-a pair of small, leather screens attached to a bridle to prevent a horse from seeing anywhere but in front of them. No distractions. No concern with the competition. Focused only on their gait and the finish line. Arguably the greatest racehorse of all time, Secretariat had a tendency to run in toward the rail during a race. In the 1970s, he ran with his famous checkered-pattern blinkers, sprinted straight, and took home the Triple Crown. Jimmy Iovine's first job was a janitorial position at a recording studio. This was where he was introduced to the world of music production, and after dropping out of college, Iovine worked his way up from cleaner to producer. "I don't give a fuck about what anybody thinks," said the cofounder of Interscope Records and Beats by Dre. "When you're running after something, you should not look left and right . . . what does this person think, what does that person think . . . no. Go." Iovine has run after producing more than 250 albums during his career and selling Beats by Dre to Apple for $3 billion. A champion doesn't just go through the motions. They don't allow their thoughts to drift to past victories or defeats. Rather, they eliminate the external distractions. They are wholly engaged in the present-immersing into the practice and giving it their complete focus and energy. Feel the sweat on your brow, the strain in your muscles, the rhythm of your breath, the sound of the bass, and the ball in your stick. Put on your blinkers. Don't Be Afraid Every year I run an event with the top fifty high school lacrosse players in the country-it's called Project 9. Each player who signs up knows that it's going to be seventy-two hours of excruciatingly hard work. There will be late-night practices and early-morning tests. Everyone has a playbook and is expected to be on time and prepared for every meeting. It's the scared straight of high school lacrosse. Because like me when I was their age, very few truly know what it's like at the next level. It's fucking hard as hell, and I want them leaving the event feeling ready for it. At the end of the weekend, I host one-on-ones. It's ten minutes of anything you want to discuss. Dialogue about lacrosse, goal setting, relationships, pressure, anxiety-anything goes. I remember sitting with the top recruit in the nation. This kid had a heck of a motor, was insanely skilled, demonstrated great discipline, and was hungry to win at the next level. I asked him what his goals were. "I want to win a championship," he replied. "What else?" "Be an All-American." "First, second, third?" "First team." "How many times?" He looked at me funny. I looked at him funny. And waited for his answer. He said, "Maybe two-time?" I responded, "Why not four-time?" He said, "Yeah." We did the same exercise with the number of national championships, what pick he would be in the Pro Lacrosse Draft, and how many gold medals he would win with Team USA. Over my career, I've thought a lot about goal setting. Most people don't set goals because (1) the act alone is both a major and personal step in the direction of commitment, and (2) it invites hope, fear, and the possibility of regret. I wanted to be the number-one recruit in the country. I wanted to win four national championships and become a four-time First Team All-American. I wanted to be drafted first overall in the 2008 Major League Lacrosse Draft, win ten MVPs, ten championships, and score the most points of all time. I wanted to play in four World Championships with Team USA and win four gold medals. I wanted to be the greatest ever. I missed on most of them. But I also did a lot more than anyone thought I could do. When asked to share your most ambitious goals with someone else, you feel vulnerable. That's what this high school All-American and Player of the Year was experiencing that day. If you don't set ambitious goals, you won't achieve ambitious things. If you can't share them, you won't earn them. If people think that you're crazy, the crazy ones are the ones who do it. And in the end, if you don't reach those goals, you can carry with you the knowledge that you displayed remarkable valor, dared to tread uncharted paths, and will forever be distinguished from those who never tasted success or setback. Here's the Secret When people start, they want to know the secret sauce. After Katie Ledecky won four gold medals at the Rio Summer Olympics, that's what she was asked. And she said, "The secret is there is no secret." Work hard. Take care of your body-nutrition, sleep, training, recovery, and so forth. Pay attention to the details-the little things that will add up to make a big difference. Show up every day-whether it's a Sunday game day, a Wednesday practice day, or a Tuesday in the offseason. Fall in love with what you do. The simplicity of it. The beauty of it. The day-to-dayness of it. You do all of this, and on a long enough timeline, you'll get where you want to be. Everyone Has an Origin Story When I was twelve, my neighbor gave me his backup stick and asked me to join the local lacrosse team. Three weeks later I played my first game. Several minutes into the first quarter I took my first shot-and horribly whiffed. The ball flew backward out of my stick. My defender scooped it up, ran down the field, and scored. But I kept at it. Two weeks later I scored my first goal. Two years after that I was leading the county in goals as a freshman. By my senior year, I was a top 3 recruit in the country. Often, I feel like I'm a twelve-year-old again-being introduced to a new game and starting from scratch. Most of the time I fail. Every time, I keep at it. I think about that first shot and remind myself that it's not how you start that's important, but how you continue. To commit. To work. To improve. To fall in love again. Under the Lamppost The cofounder of the world's largest supplier of footwear and apparel, as well as a major manufacturer of sports equipment, Phil Knight, was speaking at a conference. "If you have ever run for exercise," he said to the audience, "please stand up." Almost everyone in the room stood up. Then he said, "If you run once a week, please stay standing. Everybody else please sit down." There were fewer people standing. Then he said, "If you run twice a week, please stay standing. Everybody else please sit down." There were fewer people standing. Then he said, "If you run more than three times a week, rain or shine, hot or cold, please stay standing. Everybody else please sit down." Now, there were just a couple of people standing. "Next time you're out there before the sun is up," Knight said to the couple of people still standing, "when it's dark, cold, and wet, and you're running by yourself-we are the ones standing under the lamppost, out there in the cold and wet with you, cheering you on. We're the inner athlete. We're the inner champion." In ancient Greek philosophy and religion, the concept of the daemon refers to a divine being or guiding spirit that influences human destiny. It's an inner guiding force that helps individuals fulfill their potential and navigate the complexities of life. Those on their way to greatness have this daemon, an inner champion that guides them. Actually, I would venture to say that everyone has this spirit, but not everyone listens to it-as the Nike chairman's process of elimination demonstrated. It's Called "Playing" There's not a single athlete who doesn't look back and wish they were more present. They long for those early days, when there was so much less pressure, when the stakes were lower, when life was filled with practice and friends and always getting better. The musician Bruce Springsteen liked to say it's called "playing" music for a reason. It's called "playing" lacrosse, football, basketball, baseball, hockey, for a reason. On the practice field, in the locker room, training in the offseason, the pregame and timeout huddles-play. Make sure to remind yourself to have fun. Laugh. Smile. And enjoy the game. "That Feeling" In 1982, Joaquin Phoenix was an eight-year-old actor on a CBS television show called Seven Brides for Seven Brothers. He recalls one day on set when his friend and fellow actor, Peter Horton, was in a scene where he was in a fight with the woman who played Phoenix's mother. He remembers watching them roll around on the ground in agony. Despite knowing that what he was watching wasn't real, he remembers being overcome with an emotion of what was happening. He said that he was "physically buzzing" from it and it "was so fucking exciting." Phoenix said nothing ever gives him the feeling that he gets when he's inside a special performance. What gives you that feeling? Have you ever experienced something that's caused you to physically buzz? It's the feeling I get when I step onto the field and look my opponent dead in the eye. The feeling of preparation and competition with a heightened sense of focus and resolve. It's the feeling I get after a grueling game where my body is completely drained and exhausted. I listen to the daemon that brings me closer to those feelings. I fight against the temptations that leave me feeling anything but. Whatever causes you to physically buzz, well that, my friend, is worth pursuing. Follow Your Interests I grew up with learning differences and struggled in school. So I learned to use mnemonic devices-a learning technique that helps with information retention-to pass my tests. To remember an American history lesson on the Civil War, I tied it to a play on the lacrosse field. To remember the name of a midcentury painter, I tied it to my best friend's name and hair color. Excerpted from The Way of the Champion: Pain, Persistence, and the Path Forward by Paul Rabil All rights reserved by the original copyright owners. Excerpts are provided for display purposes only and may not be reproduced, reprinted or distributed without the written permission of the publisher.
