In teaching our players, I tried to concentrate on the process rather than the result. I think it’s the best way to teach.
Building a team takes patience and planning. We went through the process step by step, no shortcuts. We repeated drills until good habits were established. We stressed sound fundamentals. We drove home the point that basketball is a team game and the team members need to depend on one another. We talked about the soundness of putting the team first. We taught the players not to dwell on the consequences of failure. We valued each possession. We went to great lengths to reward unselfish behavior, and we profusely praised those acts that we wanted to see repeated.
A person isn’t going to wake up one morning and suddenly become confident. It’s not that easy. Words aren’t going to do the trick. Confidence must be earned. It takes time, work, and dedication.
Confidence can be as fragile as an eggshell. Coaches can’t talk players into being confident, although praising players when praise is deserved can help them become more confident. Bet they can do the reverse if they tear players down with criticism. Then self-confidence may never bloom.
Basketball is not a game of perfection. Mistakes are part of it.
Thorough preparation does wonder for anyone’s confidence.
Hard work that results in success equals confidence. That’s the only formula I have. I know of no other way.
From, "The Carolina Way: Leadership Lessons From A Life In Coaching"
11.22.2009
SUCESS ISNT MAGICAL
Success is neither magical nor mysterious. Success is the natural consequence of consistently applying fundamentals.
There are no new fundamentals.
Success is nothing more than a few simple disciplines, practiced every day; while failure is simply a few errors in judgment, repeated every day. It is the accumulative weight of our disciplines and our judgments that leads us to either fortune or failure.
There are no new fundamentals.
Success is nothing more than a few simple disciplines, practiced every day; while failure is simply a few errors in judgment, repeated every day. It is the accumulative weight of our disciplines and our judgments that leads us to either fortune or failure.
FAILURE
Successful people often share similar characteristics. But I have come to believe that the single thing they have most in common is that they find success on the far side of failure.
What does that mean? I find that almost all successful people have experienced significant failures in life or in their work, but they have learned from their failures.
On the other hand, people who don’t recognize their failures or don’t seek learning from them, are often the ones failing again and again. Why? Because they haven’t learned the lessons from the failure—they haven’t gained self-awareness or understanding; they haven’t understood others or their marketplace; they haven’t developed the maturity for humility and integrity—and they find themselves repeating their mistakes again and again.
Think about the failures or mistakes you have made. How did you respond to them? What outcomes did you get? How have they helped you today? How have they not helped you—do you have something still to learn from your failures?
If you want to make significant progress in your life, don’t forget to find success on the far side of failure!
What does that mean? I find that almost all successful people have experienced significant failures in life or in their work, but they have learned from their failures.
On the other hand, people who don’t recognize their failures or don’t seek learning from them, are often the ones failing again and again. Why? Because they haven’t learned the lessons from the failure—they haven’t gained self-awareness or understanding; they haven’t understood others or their marketplace; they haven’t developed the maturity for humility and integrity—and they find themselves repeating their mistakes again and again.
Think about the failures or mistakes you have made. How did you respond to them? What outcomes did you get? How have they helped you today? How have they not helped you—do you have something still to learn from your failures?
If you want to make significant progress in your life, don’t forget to find success on the far side of failure!
11.13.2009
Duncan Bio and Interview
...When Tim’s mother passed, Cheryl and her husband Ricky Lowery, who had been the starting point guard for Capital University, moved back to St. Croix to be with the rest of the Duncans. Ricky took the court with Tim and began teaching him the skills of the game. At about six feet, Tim was tall for his age, and Ricky guessed that he’d grow another four or five inches. With this estimate in mind, Ricky taught Tim the nuances of the perimeter game. Tim discovered a passion for the sport, and before long he was a complete player—able to dribble, pass, finish off the break and shoot from the outside, especially the pull-up jumper off the glass.
The next fall, as a 14-year-old freshman, Tim tried out for and made St. Dunstan Episcopal High School’s varsity team. Initially, his approach to the game was pretty nonchalant—just a way to have fun and get over the loss of his mom—but that quickly changed. Over the next three seasons, Tim grew nine inches and began dominating the entire Caribbean. The perimeter skills Ricky taught him, combined with his new tall frame, made Tim an unstoppable threat...
What do you think are your best physical and mental weapons on the basketball court?
Duncan: Physically, it’s just being healthy. I’ve only been through one knee surgery in my career, and knock on wood, it’s the last one. Being healthy enough so that you can give it your all, I consider that a huge blessing. Mentally, the experience I have really helps me out. I am going into my 10th season, and I have been in and experienced every situation possible. Experience is definitely underrated, and being able to bring it to the table is definitely an advantage.
You are known as a very skilled player. What kinds of things do you do in the off-season to hone your basketball skills, like footwork and shooting?
Duncan: I work a lot on my shot, but it’s hard to work on footwork. The experience from games— going through a whole season where your body and feet endure many different situations—is where you can pick things up. I just try to get in the best shape I can strength-wise and do a lot of running in the summer to build a good base for the season. I worked really hard last summer to improve my shot. Those things have been my biggest focus over the summers. But I usually take about a month off after the season for recovery purposes, then I get back in the weight room and start things slowly. I stay off the court for another two to three weeks after that, then I work on-court drills back in slowly as well.
The next fall, as a 14-year-old freshman, Tim tried out for and made St. Dunstan Episcopal High School’s varsity team. Initially, his approach to the game was pretty nonchalant—just a way to have fun and get over the loss of his mom—but that quickly changed. Over the next three seasons, Tim grew nine inches and began dominating the entire Caribbean. The perimeter skills Ricky taught him, combined with his new tall frame, made Tim an unstoppable threat...
What do you think are your best physical and mental weapons on the basketball court?
Duncan: Physically, it’s just being healthy. I’ve only been through one knee surgery in my career, and knock on wood, it’s the last one. Being healthy enough so that you can give it your all, I consider that a huge blessing. Mentally, the experience I have really helps me out. I am going into my 10th season, and I have been in and experienced every situation possible. Experience is definitely underrated, and being able to bring it to the table is definitely an advantage.
You are known as a very skilled player. What kinds of things do you do in the off-season to hone your basketball skills, like footwork and shooting?
Duncan: I work a lot on my shot, but it’s hard to work on footwork. The experience from games— going through a whole season where your body and feet endure many different situations—is where you can pick things up. I just try to get in the best shape I can strength-wise and do a lot of running in the summer to build a good base for the season. I worked really hard last summer to improve my shot. Those things have been my biggest focus over the summers. But I usually take about a month off after the season for recovery purposes, then I get back in the weight room and start things slowly. I stay off the court for another two to three weeks after that, then I work on-court drills back in slowly as well.
11.09.2009
TRUE COMPETITOR
"How do you spot a true competitor -- that unique individual who possesses a special quality called the will to win? Easy. The competitor with the will to win also has the will to work. The will to work is easy to spot because it's visible each and every day. It's right in front of you. A great competitor will never cease working hard to be the best that he or she can be. He or she has the will to do the work."
.
-John Wooden
.
-John Wooden
11.03.2009
Roy Williams On Handling Expectations
ROY WILLIAMS...
“I reminded each player that the way you deal with expectations is to focus only on today,” he says. “Yes we have a plan for the entire year, but it all begins with what we are going to do today. If you work to be the best you can be today, you’re preparing yourself to be the best you can be tomorrow. It sounds realyy simple, but it’s not.
“If each of us works every day to be the best we can be on that day and then come back and do the same tomorrow, then we have a better chance of being our very best at year’s end."
“I reminded each player that the way you deal with expectations is to focus only on today,” he says. “Yes we have a plan for the entire year, but it all begins with what we are going to do today. If you work to be the best you can be today, you’re preparing yourself to be the best you can be tomorrow. It sounds realyy simple, but it’s not.
“If each of us works every day to be the best we can be on that day and then come back and do the same tomorrow, then we have a better chance of being our very best at year’s end."
STEVE NASH - WISDOM
Words of wisdom for point guards presented by Steve Nash at the Nike Point Guard Academy:
"You should always want your coach to be critical.It gives you an opportunity to learn and to over-come adversity."
"You maximize your potential by being humble,develop a work ethic, strive to be a good person,and to be the best teammate you can be."
"Use your scoring ability to be a better passer,and your passing skills to become a better scorer."
"You can't be a point guard who gets into the lane and always passes. Capitalize on the real estate you have gained."
"Point Guard must be able to pass with both hands equally off the dribble."
'"I am always thinking how can I get myself better."
"On the fast break, after 2 or 3 hard dribbles you should see the whole floor and know where all your teammates are."
"You should always want your coach to be critical.It gives you an opportunity to learn and to over-come adversity."
"You maximize your potential by being humble,develop a work ethic, strive to be a good person,and to be the best teammate you can be."
"Use your scoring ability to be a better passer,and your passing skills to become a better scorer."
"You can't be a point guard who gets into the lane and always passes. Capitalize on the real estate you have gained."
"Point Guard must be able to pass with both hands equally off the dribble."
'"I am always thinking how can I get myself better."
"On the fast break, after 2 or 3 hard dribbles you should see the whole floor and know where all your teammates are."
11.02.2009
Lomers Attends Newell Big Man Camp in Hawai`i
As he showed in Baylor’s postseason run last year, 7-footer Josh Lomers can be a productive post player in the right situations.
And now that he’s added a few moves, Lomers might get even more chances during his senior season. The senior from Boerne, Texas, went to the 33rd annual Pete Newell Big Man Camp earlier this month in Honolulu, Hawai`i.
“It’s mostly just learning new moves and trying to perfect them,” said Lomers, who averaged 3.4 points and 1.9 rebounds overall last year. “It’s all about repetitions. If you do it enough, it becomes second nature rather than having to think about it. It was good to kind of focus down on the post moves.”
Considered the world’s premier “big man” basketball camp, the Newell Camp’s impressive alumni list includes Shaquille O’Neal, Akeem Olajuwon, Ralph Sampson, Rasheed Wallace, Shawn Kemp and Shawn Marion. The Texas Longhorns’ Dexter Pittman parlayed a trip to last year’s camp into being named the Big 12’s Most Improved Player last season.
Alton Lister, another alum who spent 16 years in the NBA, was one of the coaches for this year’s camp along with coaching veteran Pete Gaudet and Golden State Warriors strength and conditioning coach John Murray.
Lister demanded consistency, making sure that they did it the right way.
“He was on everybody to do it right, do it right, do it right, all the way to the end,” Lomers said. “A lot of times you go places, and they’re like, ‘Do it right,’ and then they kind of slack and don’t care anymore. By the end of the camp, they’re kind of like, ‘Just do it.’ But he was do it right every time, and I think that was good for me to get that kind of consistency that he demanded.”
And now that he’s added a few moves, Lomers might get even more chances during his senior season. The senior from Boerne, Texas, went to the 33rd annual Pete Newell Big Man Camp earlier this month in Honolulu, Hawai`i.
“It’s mostly just learning new moves and trying to perfect them,” said Lomers, who averaged 3.4 points and 1.9 rebounds overall last year. “It’s all about repetitions. If you do it enough, it becomes second nature rather than having to think about it. It was good to kind of focus down on the post moves.”
Considered the world’s premier “big man” basketball camp, the Newell Camp’s impressive alumni list includes Shaquille O’Neal, Akeem Olajuwon, Ralph Sampson, Rasheed Wallace, Shawn Kemp and Shawn Marion. The Texas Longhorns’ Dexter Pittman parlayed a trip to last year’s camp into being named the Big 12’s Most Improved Player last season.
Alton Lister, another alum who spent 16 years in the NBA, was one of the coaches for this year’s camp along with coaching veteran Pete Gaudet and Golden State Warriors strength and conditioning coach John Murray.
Lister demanded consistency, making sure that they did it the right way.
“He was on everybody to do it right, do it right, do it right, all the way to the end,” Lomers said. “A lot of times you go places, and they’re like, ‘Do it right,’ and then they kind of slack and don’t care anymore. By the end of the camp, they’re kind of like, ‘Just do it.’ But he was do it right every time, and I think that was good for me to get that kind of consistency that he demanded.”
11.01.2009
Evan Longoria Just Getting Warmed Up
Step into the circle with Evan Longoria. It's an imaginary place he goes to before every pitch, a place where expectations and ramifications and past failures are not allowed, a place where the only thing that matters is the challenge before him. And his challenge right now, in the bottom of the ninth inning at Fenway Park in the Rays' third game of the 2009 season, is to do all he can, with his glove, to finish off the Red Sox. He has already blasted a home run over the Green Monster this afternoon, a two-run shot in the third inning, but his work begins anew every time he steps into the circle.
With a 4-3 lead, one out and American League MVP Dustin Pedroia at the plate, Rays closer Troy Percival gets the sign from catcher Shawn Riggans. At third base, Longoria steps into the circle, a place that demands total focus. His eyes are unblinking, his knees and elbows bent, his weight shifted to the front of his spikes. His mind is embedded in this moment, because this is the only moment he can influence. Percival throws a fastball on the inner half of the plate, and Pedroia scorches it low, toward leftfield. Right into the circle. Longoria's glove flashes open as he reaches to his left; the ball takes one hop, then disappears into the webbing, and he finishes the play with an easy throw to first. Sox manager Terry Francona sees it all from a corner of the dugout and says aloud, "Wow." At field level, it feels as if Longoria had just gloved a Tiger Woods drive 30 yards in front of the tee box.
The quiet SoCal kid exudes an innate confidence, much like Woods does. It's a competitive ruthlessness lurking just beneath the gracious veneer. Longoria is sure he'll figure out a way to kick your ass. "The thing about Evan is that he likes the stardom, he likes all the pressure on him," says Rockies shortstop Troy Tulowitzki, who shared a college suite with Longoria at Long Beach State. "That's what a superstar has to do, because everybody is looking at you. You've got to want to be special."
And Longoria has always wanted that, even when no major league organization wanted him.
Step into the circle with Evan Longoria, junior college transfer. In his first year at Long Beach State, he slept on a futon in Tulowitzki's suite. The coaches remember him as remarkably quiet, comfortable in his space as Tulo's sidekick. Tulo was the star, the leader, the shortstop, so Longoria became a third baseman. When Ken Ravizza, a sports psychology consultant for the baseball team, first met Longoria, he suspected the teenager didn't see the merits of working on his mental approach, but in time he turned out to be the perfect sponge. "Looking back, if I didn't have the training I had with Ken ... I can see why some guys lose it completely," he says.
Ravizza counsels players to forgive themselves for failure -- and Longoria was far from perfect. In the 2003 draft, 1,480 players were selected; Longoria, then a senior at St. John Bosco High School, in Bellflower, Calif., was not among them. He didn't even get a scholarship offer from a Division I program. He wound up at Rio Hondo Community College, about 12 miles from his house, in Downey. Longoria didn't see that as an obstacle. The summer before classes started, he called coach Mike Salazar two or three times a week: Hey, Coach, you want to go hit? You want to go work out?
Longoria has never known any other way. As kids, he and his three siblings (a younger sister and two younger brothers) each had a sports equipment bag, and when Michael Longoria came home from his job as a school maintenance worker to take them to practices, Evan's bag was already packed. "He always wanted to practice," his dad says. "He was always ready to work." Evan also played water polo in high school, but when he was 15, he told his father, "I want to dedicate myself to baseball." He joined a summer league wood-bat team in nearby Maywood, concentrated on hitting drills and lifted weights to strengthen his skinny frame. Michael couldn't help but notice that his son seemed naturally predisposed to fixing his perceived weaknesses without any prodding. During the 2003 draft, Evan wasn't so much worried about getting picked as he was focused on getting better. "I didn't feel like I would be left out completely," he admits. "You have dreams in high school, and playing in the big leagues is the ultimate dream. But when you don't get any scholarship offers and you have to play at junior college, you start to think you might have to come up with something different in the real world."
When Longoria transferred to Long Beach State, in 2004, he had no presumption of stardom, only the desire to get there. "He knows himself," Ravizza says. "He's not worried about being a success. He's more concerned with the process."
Ravizza taught Longoria how to use structure to find mental relief. Everything is done through the prism of preparing for success: the way you get ready for at-bats, the way you walk to home plate, the way you forgive yourself after making an out or an error. There will be times, Ravizza told him, when you are feeling good and you can just go with it, but on the difficult days, this structure will be there for you. "A lot of times I'd be sitting at home after a game thinking, What the hell just happened?" Longoria says. "My mind would be going so fast." To slow himself down, he performed a relaxation drill he learned from Ravizza. "I would have my focal point," he says. "I'd look out there and let everything go."
Following his first season at Long Beach State, Longoria played in the 2005 Cape Cod League against the nation's best amateurs -- with the wood bats he'd been using for years. He led the league in homers and RBIs and won the MVP award. Now all the scouts wanted him, and in June 2006 he was the third pick in the draft. He reached this point, Michael Longoria believes, because in Evan's daily search for what eluded him, he made himself into a special player. "He doesn't do it for the fame," Michael says. "He does it for the challenge."
Longoria started 2008 at Triple-A Durham and struggled at the plate. Disappointed and frustrated, he punched out a text to Tulowitzki: I am never going to get called up to the big leagues. I'm screwing myself. A week into the season, though, Longoria got called up and went to work. He asked veteran Eric Hinske about his pregame workout routine, and when Hinske told him that he did his weightlifting and physical conditioning early in the afternoon, Longoria started arriving early at Tropicana Field. After plays in the field that felt awkward to him, he asked Foley what he might have done differently. They worked together daily, and at the end of every session, Foley hit 10 balls as hard as he could at the 6'2", 210-pound third baseman. If Longoria bobbled one, he had to make a smoothie for Foley in the clubhouse, and if Longoria fielded all of them cleanly, then Foley made the smoothie.
"Longo, is there anything you're not good at?" Hinske asked. Of course there is. But when Longoria struggles, he leans on structure. Last August he got hit by a pitch, broke his right wrist and was on the disabled list for a month while his teammates tried to hold on in the AL East. Ravizza was watching the Rays on TV and caught a shot of Longoria in the dugout pulling his batting gloves out of his pocket. Later, Ravizza called with a question: "Were you mentally preparing for your at-bats?" Longoria told him yes, that each time his replacement came up, he would put on his gloves and visualize the entire at-bat, pitch by pitch. And when the AB was over, he'd take off the gloves.
Pitchers started executing the scouting report, moving his feet off the plate with inside fastballs before spinning breaking balls low and away. Longoria descended into a postseason abyss and went hitless in his first 17 at-bats in the World Series against the Phillies. Slowly, however, he tunneled his way out. There was no rookie panic, no drowning in the tidal wave of the postseason.
Last summer, Salazar bumped into him after a game in Anaheim, at a time when the rookie was rocketing hits all over the place. The coach, who had prodded Longoria in his juco days, wasn't surprised. "You are raking," Salazar said.
Longoria broke into a huge grin. "I am raking," he answered. And then he stepped back into the circle.
With a 4-3 lead, one out and American League MVP Dustin Pedroia at the plate, Rays closer Troy Percival gets the sign from catcher Shawn Riggans. At third base, Longoria steps into the circle, a place that demands total focus. His eyes are unblinking, his knees and elbows bent, his weight shifted to the front of his spikes. His mind is embedded in this moment, because this is the only moment he can influence. Percival throws a fastball on the inner half of the plate, and Pedroia scorches it low, toward leftfield. Right into the circle. Longoria's glove flashes open as he reaches to his left; the ball takes one hop, then disappears into the webbing, and he finishes the play with an easy throw to first. Sox manager Terry Francona sees it all from a corner of the dugout and says aloud, "Wow." At field level, it feels as if Longoria had just gloved a Tiger Woods drive 30 yards in front of the tee box.
The quiet SoCal kid exudes an innate confidence, much like Woods does. It's a competitive ruthlessness lurking just beneath the gracious veneer. Longoria is sure he'll figure out a way to kick your ass. "The thing about Evan is that he likes the stardom, he likes all the pressure on him," says Rockies shortstop Troy Tulowitzki, who shared a college suite with Longoria at Long Beach State. "That's what a superstar has to do, because everybody is looking at you. You've got to want to be special."
And Longoria has always wanted that, even when no major league organization wanted him.
Step into the circle with Evan Longoria, junior college transfer. In his first year at Long Beach State, he slept on a futon in Tulowitzki's suite. The coaches remember him as remarkably quiet, comfortable in his space as Tulo's sidekick. Tulo was the star, the leader, the shortstop, so Longoria became a third baseman. When Ken Ravizza, a sports psychology consultant for the baseball team, first met Longoria, he suspected the teenager didn't see the merits of working on his mental approach, but in time he turned out to be the perfect sponge. "Looking back, if I didn't have the training I had with Ken ... I can see why some guys lose it completely," he says.
Ravizza counsels players to forgive themselves for failure -- and Longoria was far from perfect. In the 2003 draft, 1,480 players were selected; Longoria, then a senior at St. John Bosco High School, in Bellflower, Calif., was not among them. He didn't even get a scholarship offer from a Division I program. He wound up at Rio Hondo Community College, about 12 miles from his house, in Downey. Longoria didn't see that as an obstacle. The summer before classes started, he called coach Mike Salazar two or three times a week: Hey, Coach, you want to go hit? You want to go work out?
Longoria has never known any other way. As kids, he and his three siblings (a younger sister and two younger brothers) each had a sports equipment bag, and when Michael Longoria came home from his job as a school maintenance worker to take them to practices, Evan's bag was already packed. "He always wanted to practice," his dad says. "He was always ready to work." Evan also played water polo in high school, but when he was 15, he told his father, "I want to dedicate myself to baseball." He joined a summer league wood-bat team in nearby Maywood, concentrated on hitting drills and lifted weights to strengthen his skinny frame. Michael couldn't help but notice that his son seemed naturally predisposed to fixing his perceived weaknesses without any prodding. During the 2003 draft, Evan wasn't so much worried about getting picked as he was focused on getting better. "I didn't feel like I would be left out completely," he admits. "You have dreams in high school, and playing in the big leagues is the ultimate dream. But when you don't get any scholarship offers and you have to play at junior college, you start to think you might have to come up with something different in the real world."
When Longoria transferred to Long Beach State, in 2004, he had no presumption of stardom, only the desire to get there. "He knows himself," Ravizza says. "He's not worried about being a success. He's more concerned with the process."
Ravizza taught Longoria how to use structure to find mental relief. Everything is done through the prism of preparing for success: the way you get ready for at-bats, the way you walk to home plate, the way you forgive yourself after making an out or an error. There will be times, Ravizza told him, when you are feeling good and you can just go with it, but on the difficult days, this structure will be there for you. "A lot of times I'd be sitting at home after a game thinking, What the hell just happened?" Longoria says. "My mind would be going so fast." To slow himself down, he performed a relaxation drill he learned from Ravizza. "I would have my focal point," he says. "I'd look out there and let everything go."
Following his first season at Long Beach State, Longoria played in the 2005 Cape Cod League against the nation's best amateurs -- with the wood bats he'd been using for years. He led the league in homers and RBIs and won the MVP award. Now all the scouts wanted him, and in June 2006 he was the third pick in the draft. He reached this point, Michael Longoria believes, because in Evan's daily search for what eluded him, he made himself into a special player. "He doesn't do it for the fame," Michael says. "He does it for the challenge."
Longoria started 2008 at Triple-A Durham and struggled at the plate. Disappointed and frustrated, he punched out a text to Tulowitzki: I am never going to get called up to the big leagues. I'm screwing myself. A week into the season, though, Longoria got called up and went to work. He asked veteran Eric Hinske about his pregame workout routine, and when Hinske told him that he did his weightlifting and physical conditioning early in the afternoon, Longoria started arriving early at Tropicana Field. After plays in the field that felt awkward to him, he asked Foley what he might have done differently. They worked together daily, and at the end of every session, Foley hit 10 balls as hard as he could at the 6'2", 210-pound third baseman. If Longoria bobbled one, he had to make a smoothie for Foley in the clubhouse, and if Longoria fielded all of them cleanly, then Foley made the smoothie.
"Longo, is there anything you're not good at?" Hinske asked. Of course there is. But when Longoria struggles, he leans on structure. Last August he got hit by a pitch, broke his right wrist and was on the disabled list for a month while his teammates tried to hold on in the AL East. Ravizza was watching the Rays on TV and caught a shot of Longoria in the dugout pulling his batting gloves out of his pocket. Later, Ravizza called with a question: "Were you mentally preparing for your at-bats?" Longoria told him yes, that each time his replacement came up, he would put on his gloves and visualize the entire at-bat, pitch by pitch. And when the AB was over, he'd take off the gloves.
Pitchers started executing the scouting report, moving his feet off the plate with inside fastballs before spinning breaking balls low and away. Longoria descended into a postseason abyss and went hitless in his first 17 at-bats in the World Series against the Phillies. Slowly, however, he tunneled his way out. There was no rookie panic, no drowning in the tidal wave of the postseason.
Last summer, Salazar bumped into him after a game in Anaheim, at a time when the rookie was rocketing hits all over the place. The coach, who had prodded Longoria in his juco days, wasn't surprised. "You are raking," Salazar said.
Longoria broke into a huge grin. "I am raking," he answered. And then he stepped back into the circle.
10.31.2009
Ichiro has a very fine prefrontal cortex
TOKYO — Countless attempts have been made over the years to try to pinpoint Ichiro's prowess, but Dr. Kenichiro Mogi may have trumped all explanations. "Ichiro," he says with confidence, "has a very fine prefrontal cortex." Mogi's a celebrity brain scientist in Japan. More to the point, he also co-hosts a TV show loosely translated as "Secrets of the Ultimate Professional," a popular weekly documentary series focusing on the methodology that has allowed certain individuals to reach the pinnacles of their trades.
For 70 days over three different spans of last season, a four-person, one-camera crew (of which this writer was a member) followed Ichiro's every move, trying to discern his professional methodology.
What viewers saw was a program that quickly zeros in on Ichiro's meticulously crafted daily routine of preparing for a game. It doesn't start at the ballpark or with his equipment or anything else directly related to baseball. Rather, it begins with one of the first activities of the day for people who work at night — lunch.
The camera discovers that Ichiro has eaten the same lunch before home games all seven years he has been in Seattle — homemade Japanese curry from his wife Yumiko. Not variations of her recipe, but the exact same kind every single day. And on the road, he almost always opts for a cheese pizza, easy on the sauce and fluffy around the edges, if you must know.
But why must we know this? When that question is posed to Mogi, he first giggles in slight embarrassment."It's very interesting from a brain science point of view," he says as his tone becomes serious. "There are many solutions, not just one solution to a particular problem. Certainly, some athletes eat lots of different food, that's also a possible approach. But in Ichiro's case, he sticks to a particular style.
"We believe it has a lot to do with his baseball playing style. Ichiro has found in his particular case, it is helpful to follow the same ritual every day and that way he can really fine-tune his brain state so that he can concentrate fully on baseball. Ichiro's way is not everybody's way."
Nor should Ichiro's way be confused with superstition, because he doesn't alter his lunchtime menu depending on the previous night's performance. And it might not be as idiosyncratic as it first appears, either. By limiting himself to dishes he knows he enjoys, Ichiro eliminates the element of surprise. He knows exactly how the meal will taste and how it will sit in his stomach.
Lunch, then, becomes a stress-free way of beginning his daylong mental and physical preparation for that night's game. It doesn't mean Ichiro doesn't enjoy finer foods, which he certainly does. It merely means he's willing to sacrifice the immediate pleasure of seeking a gourmet lunch for the long-term reward of higher focus at game time.
This higher focus allows him to achieve his ultimate goal, which is an acute awareness of the sensations he experiences on the playing field. Some of the minute tinkering Ichiro occasionally makes to his batting stance has been reported before, but often with a tinge of sarcasm out of disbelief that such fastidiousness could actually matter, like a minuscule repositioning of his foot or an infinitesimal reduction in the pressure of a finger on the bat.
To Ichiro, though, batting, and really baseball overall, is absolutely about capturing a unique but essential feeling. The television program explored his unwavering pursuit of this. "When Ichiro said he is aware of his own feelings and he is committed to his own feelings, that was the most interesting point for me," Mogi explains. "No matter what the batting theories are, he doesn't really follow the already established and well-honored style of batting. He follows his own sensations and feelings."
Certainly, different batters have different approaches to their craft. But among all the possible ways of accomplishing the task, Ichiro's chosen way of trying to understand and respond to exactly what his body feels is perhaps the most difficult. Mogi agrees. "Ichiro's way is a very hard way and certainly out of the norm," he says. "In order to rely on your own feelings like that, you have to have something called metacognition. It's the ability to observe yourself as if you're observing your own internal state from the outside. Of course, it's all your own feeling, but you can access and analyze it as if you are observing it from an objective point of view.
"I find that quality very strong in Ichiro. He can actually report on his own internal feelings in an accurate language. It's very unbelievable. Even if he can't describe it in words, he has a very good idea about how he's feeling in a particular situation. For example, in batting, if he doesn't do well, he remembers how he felt at that particular instance so that he can reflect on it later and compare it with the feelings he had when he was doing well so he can make this very fine adjustment to improve his performance. "In order to do that, you need to have these metacognitive abilities, and that is actually carried by the prefrontal cortex in your brain."
And that's where Mogi's earlier praise for Ichiro's prefrontal cortex comes from. But, during the course of the program, Mogi actually finds something even more stunning than his appreciation for what lies beneath Ichiro's forehead. It's the moment in the program's studio segment when Ichiro turns to Mogi and proclaims he's felt no sense of accomplishment to this point in his career because his records have been achieved from what he perceives as a deficient state.
Ichiro goes on to explain that during the course of last season, he captured what he imagines has long been an elusive feeling at the plate and now he feels he's closer to being able to perform at 100 percent of his ability than he's ever been before.
That revelation is also the key to grasping a comment Ichiro made in numerous interviews at the end of last season. As he turns toward what will be his 17th pro season, he finally feels he's on the cusp of where he's always wanted to be from a feeling standpoint. That admission, coupled with the program's ending, could give any baseball fan great anticipation for what Ichiro still has to offer on the field.
For 70 days over three different spans of last season, a four-person, one-camera crew (of which this writer was a member) followed Ichiro's every move, trying to discern his professional methodology.
What viewers saw was a program that quickly zeros in on Ichiro's meticulously crafted daily routine of preparing for a game. It doesn't start at the ballpark or with his equipment or anything else directly related to baseball. Rather, it begins with one of the first activities of the day for people who work at night — lunch.
The camera discovers that Ichiro has eaten the same lunch before home games all seven years he has been in Seattle — homemade Japanese curry from his wife Yumiko. Not variations of her recipe, but the exact same kind every single day. And on the road, he almost always opts for a cheese pizza, easy on the sauce and fluffy around the edges, if you must know.
But why must we know this? When that question is posed to Mogi, he first giggles in slight embarrassment."It's very interesting from a brain science point of view," he says as his tone becomes serious. "There are many solutions, not just one solution to a particular problem. Certainly, some athletes eat lots of different food, that's also a possible approach. But in Ichiro's case, he sticks to a particular style.
"We believe it has a lot to do with his baseball playing style. Ichiro has found in his particular case, it is helpful to follow the same ritual every day and that way he can really fine-tune his brain state so that he can concentrate fully on baseball. Ichiro's way is not everybody's way."
Nor should Ichiro's way be confused with superstition, because he doesn't alter his lunchtime menu depending on the previous night's performance. And it might not be as idiosyncratic as it first appears, either. By limiting himself to dishes he knows he enjoys, Ichiro eliminates the element of surprise. He knows exactly how the meal will taste and how it will sit in his stomach.
Lunch, then, becomes a stress-free way of beginning his daylong mental and physical preparation for that night's game. It doesn't mean Ichiro doesn't enjoy finer foods, which he certainly does. It merely means he's willing to sacrifice the immediate pleasure of seeking a gourmet lunch for the long-term reward of higher focus at game time.
This higher focus allows him to achieve his ultimate goal, which is an acute awareness of the sensations he experiences on the playing field. Some of the minute tinkering Ichiro occasionally makes to his batting stance has been reported before, but often with a tinge of sarcasm out of disbelief that such fastidiousness could actually matter, like a minuscule repositioning of his foot or an infinitesimal reduction in the pressure of a finger on the bat.
To Ichiro, though, batting, and really baseball overall, is absolutely about capturing a unique but essential feeling. The television program explored his unwavering pursuit of this. "When Ichiro said he is aware of his own feelings and he is committed to his own feelings, that was the most interesting point for me," Mogi explains. "No matter what the batting theories are, he doesn't really follow the already established and well-honored style of batting. He follows his own sensations and feelings."
Certainly, different batters have different approaches to their craft. But among all the possible ways of accomplishing the task, Ichiro's chosen way of trying to understand and respond to exactly what his body feels is perhaps the most difficult. Mogi agrees. "Ichiro's way is a very hard way and certainly out of the norm," he says. "In order to rely on your own feelings like that, you have to have something called metacognition. It's the ability to observe yourself as if you're observing your own internal state from the outside. Of course, it's all your own feeling, but you can access and analyze it as if you are observing it from an objective point of view.
"I find that quality very strong in Ichiro. He can actually report on his own internal feelings in an accurate language. It's very unbelievable. Even if he can't describe it in words, he has a very good idea about how he's feeling in a particular situation. For example, in batting, if he doesn't do well, he remembers how he felt at that particular instance so that he can reflect on it later and compare it with the feelings he had when he was doing well so he can make this very fine adjustment to improve his performance. "In order to do that, you need to have these metacognitive abilities, and that is actually carried by the prefrontal cortex in your brain."
And that's where Mogi's earlier praise for Ichiro's prefrontal cortex comes from. But, during the course of the program, Mogi actually finds something even more stunning than his appreciation for what lies beneath Ichiro's forehead. It's the moment in the program's studio segment when Ichiro turns to Mogi and proclaims he's felt no sense of accomplishment to this point in his career because his records have been achieved from what he perceives as a deficient state.
Ichiro goes on to explain that during the course of last season, he captured what he imagines has long been an elusive feeling at the plate and now he feels he's closer to being able to perform at 100 percent of his ability than he's ever been before.
That revelation is also the key to grasping a comment Ichiro made in numerous interviews at the end of last season. As he turns toward what will be his 17th pro season, he finally feels he's on the cusp of where he's always wanted to be from a feeling standpoint. That admission, coupled with the program's ending, could give any baseball fan great anticipation for what Ichiro still has to offer on the field.
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