Published Feb 18, 2005
Yesterday, while doing 45° overhead presses with my trainer, NFL Hall-of-Famer Bubba Smith started barking advice my way. Keep my head down! Step forward with your right foot! Back straight as a board! It was intimidating.
Bubba, who could pass for 45, thought that I had a bad leg. So then he showed me all of his surgery scars around his knee, and I had to admit that my problem with my mechanics (yay high school cross-country injuries) was not as serious as that.
Bubba also thought I had bad form. He thought I ought to shape up and earn my last name. He’s probably right. I’ll redouble my efforts; after all, I don’t want any big, tough, former linebackers coming after me.
Oh, and Gabe: he’s a Colt, not a Raider. See that blue shirt? Bubba’s a Baltimore Colt.