contributing writer @wearemel, @ringer, & @splicetoday. seen in @theatlantic, @parisreview, &c. repped by @inkwellmgmt. co-host of @whatisleftpod 
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The best athlete, the true athlete, would die for that extra pound or yard or second. You love to see it. It's dumb as hell. I'm here for it. Get on that grind
This is what I miss about PRIDE and the early MMA promotions. Getting so juiced up for a fight and so beaten down that even if you win you're effectively a ruined, dead person walking. The true athlete would die for a single move or play. It all comes down to that. The Big One
True sport really does amount to the Sum of All Cliches. If the bar ain't bending you're just pretending. If you're not dying you're not trying. It's not everything it's the only thing. I love to see it. The opposite of life as marathon. Life as pointless death sprint. Yes!
When my dad essentially ended his career as a truly premium-tier explosive athlete in a football game against USC, blowing out his knee while ***missing*** a cut block, he distilled that attitude perfectly: "did I fuck up? You betcha. Would I do it again? Always the same way."
The true athlete would not only die for a Missed Rep, they would experience going all out for that life-ending Missed Rep as an eternal recurrence. I would never do that. I have stuff to live for. I love to watch blackout drinking too, but I'm a 100% teetotaler. I love to see it
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