Sports and Peter Attia and the Ho-Queen, oh my!
This week was, uh, a bit much
Full disclosure: I have two finished pieces that I’d like to share with you, but I’m not going to today. I’ve got too much other crap to unload on you with. But it’s good crap. Mostly.
🦈 Batten down the hatches…
⚾️ Baseball fans (And/or people who wake up every morning right now and say f*%k you winter): the season is upon us! Pitchers and catchers report next week.
This week’s episode of the SilentPunt Podcast was an interview with Minnesota Twins pitcher Justin Topa. In addition to being the “Greek God of Ground Balls,” Justin is an absolutely solid dude with an incredible story. Check it out here if you haven’t already.
You can also watch it here if you’d prefer…
⭐️ Speaking of the pod, no Sticker this week, so I’m going to hand one out here. Non-pod listeners, we give out a helmet sticker every week to someone who’s done something good. This week’s sticker goes to…
Brian (the cool kids call him Ang)….who was hired earlier this week as the new Offensive Coordinator for the Pittsburgh Steelers…was one of my first mentors in the coaching profession. I played at Ithaca from ‘96-’98, then stuck around after I graduated to coach in ‘99. That was the year Ang switched to coaching the offensive line, and I was his assistant O-line coach. In addition to being a phenomenal football guy, he was and is a great dude. Kudos to him!!!
🏃🏻♂️ Also on the pod, we give out a weekly Gasser. A gasser (or suicide, in GenX terms) is a series of sprints given to discipline an athlete. We, however, give them to someone who has done dumb shit or is maybe just a deplorable human being. This week’s gasser goes to….
Last year I shared with you that Attia’s latest book (NY Times best seller Outlive) was a BIBO (“Book I Bailed On”). I have very few real gifts in life, and even fewer skills to trade upon. However, one skill I have acquired over the years is the ability to spot a charlatan. I’m not saying I told you so, but I told you so…
🧠 As so often happens in life, the people telling you how to live yours are, in actuality, colossal a-holes.
To that end: I am not a charlatan. For the most part I’m a good egg trying to share a reasonable point of view, helpful information, and the occasional laugh with my compadres across the globe. If you have other friends in need of non-charlatans in their lives, feel free to forward this email. ⏩ If someone already forwarded you this…
Random thought: Why are wilted greens a thing? Have you ever had a hankering for some good ‘ol homemade wilted greens?
🎶 Title of a future SilentPunt humor piece: “I Just Saw the Dave Matthews Band live for the 75th Time. And also, I have a deep, unfillable, hole in my being.”
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Just a story before you go:
About a year or so ago, we were on vacation in the Caribbean with another family. One day, while we were on our way to take a four-hour boat ride around the island, the seven of us shared a van ride to the dock. We were gonna cruise a little bit, swim a little bit, then meet back up with our driver later in the day.
When we returned to the dock after our cruise was over, our van wasn’t there waiting for us.
“Huh, that’s weird. I’ll give him a call,” said our friend, who had put the excursion together for our group.
The rest of us waited patiently, chatting and absentmindedly listening to the conversation.
Our friend, upon someone on the other line answering her call:
“Hello, we’re waiting for our driver here at the dock. It’s 3:15, and he was supposed to be here at 3.”
….silence as she listens to the response
“Uh, I’m not sure. Oh wait! Yes, yes I know. It was ho-queen.”
….silence again
“Hmm. No, I’m pretty sure it was ho-queen.”
…silence
To us, “Guys, our driver’s name was Ho-Queen, right?”
Us:
“Seriously! They’re trying to figure out who was supposed to come get us. The driver’s name was Ho-Queen, right?”
Then, like a quiet objector standing in the back of a wedding when the words “or forever hold your peace” are uttered, one of the children spoke up:
“Uh, you mean the guy that drove us here?”
“Yes! His name was Ho-Queen, right?”
“Uh, no.”
“What? Yes it was. What do you think it was?”
“His name was Joaquin.”
And thus was born the legend of the ho-queen.
It really is the mother of all monikers. Cut off in traffic?
“Check out this stupid ho-queen.”
Chatting with your buddy on the phone?
“What’s up hoqueeeeen!”
Mad at your wife, but too scared of her to actually be mean?
“Yeah yeah yeah, whatever, hoqueen.”
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One of these days, I’ll tell you the story of a former player named Malachi. Or, as one of our other coaches called him:
Have a friend who might enjoy the above tomfoolery? Share it with them here:
I don’t know any of these people but Ho-queen is memorable.
My son had an Asian friend from HS who loved to play around with his name. (The Asian community tends to use American names because we bastardize their given names.) He was as Mike, then Ezekiel and sometimes Guy.
I was afraid where this was going. Turns out there was nothing to fear from the ho-queen.
So I chuckled.