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*leviadan* · 02-22-2020, 12:24 PM

1075 Words - 1.5x Playoff Media Bonus - Ready for Grading

Despite being a key part of a long and very winning season for the Detroit Falcons, I have to admit that this short break before the playoffs is a welcome one. Getting seven assists and one fight in 50 games has kept me running at full capacity, so it's been hard to make time for Burlok. For the first time since I was drafted, I'm returning to Sulfurgold farm to recharge on authentic German potatoes, and begin an accelerated training regimen for the playoffs.

My manager @notorioustig said that he wouldn't cover my plane ticket, and that I'd have to come up with the money some other way. Since I must lay my nude body in Sulfurgold soil before the playoffs, I'll be keeping this training diary and selling it upon my return for $1000 per word. Hopefully that covers the cost. Off we go then!

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I'm first off the plane in Munich, but dead last getting into my mother's arms at the gate. Why does she hug everyone on the plane before me? After four hours in the airport beer garden getting me accustomed to my homeland, we make haste to the farm. As we crest the final rolling hill, I see it: fields and fields of rock hard delicious brown. I leave my clothes in the back seat as I tuck and roll from the car. I lay my nude body in Sulfurgold soil for the remainder of the day.

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I'm awoken at 4:00 AM by my father tending to the fields. He tosses me my old overalls and remarks that they no longer fit. He's right. I've gained so much muscle mass over the season that the old denim isn't even trying to cover my pecs. We laugh and take turns punching each other in the chest. I tell him he's an old bastard and that these hits are nothing compared to what I take at the rink every day. He grins as I'm ambushed by my eight brothers. They must have snuck up through the potatoes as we were playing punch. The old bastard got me again.

My mother joins us as the ruckus dies down and we finish looking after the fields as a family. As I hold the perfect potato in my hand and the sun warms my face, I'm reminded why I do it all. The hockey, the travelling, the seven assists in 50 games-- it's all to secure a good life for everyone back here. I get jolted back to reality as the potato in my hand scuttles off and starts burrowing back into the dirt. It's now 8:00 AM, and I'm ready to start training for real.

What follows is a strict schedule alternating between three primary workouts. For competitive reasons, I will NOT be sharing the specific amount of time spent on each exercise, or the amount of potatoes consumed between. That being said, my home training uses the following methods:

1) Horse Wrasslin' (Pferdekampf)

Let's be honest, the name says it all. We have three of the beefiest mares I've ever seen on Sulfurgold farm. We have a deep respect for each other, and every day we like to have a wrestling tournament with victories decided by submission. I only take home the title in these tournaments about 30% of the time, but that's what keeps them exciting. I find that this is an excellent way to work on defensive body positioning and creative ways to win puck battles.

2) Hog Pressin' (Schweinelift)

Much more of a traditional workout, I like to find some time after dinner to visit Big Sweet, our prized hog. After a brief conversation I get on my back, grab that hulking beast, and start bench pressing. Ideally I get 30 to 40 reps in an evening, but sometimes he's too feisty for that. It's of the utmost importance to yield to Big Sweet in these situations. If I only get 20 reps in, that's fine! Compromise is key. The combination of hard work and emotional intelligence required to work with Big Sweet is the main way that I develop my hockey IQ. The empathy I've developed with him over the years has given an acute sense of what my teammates are seeing and feeling on every play.

3) Chicken Hurlin' (Hühnchen Werfen)

The final piece of the puzzle is accuracy and hand-eye. Our awful chickens have a pen out front of the house, and a pen out back. We rotate them every few days so that they have fresh grass and a change of scenery. Instead of moving these wretched animals one-by-one over the course of hours, I just started tossing them. It's not particularly difficult to clear the house with a good throw, but it takes a fair amount of aim and brute force to really nail it: especially when you have 50 or so to get through. It can almost be meditative. Grab, chuck, squawk. Grab, chuck, squawk. I have this exercise to thank for my dexterity and innate ability to roof pucks.

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After several cycles of these exercises each day, I find myself getting more and more in tune with my body. Sadly, my time home draws to a close much quicker than I'd hoped. It's always painful to leave, but I'm a grown man now, and many of my responsibilities lie in Detroit. If all goes well in the coming days, I'll be able to return home again soon with a trophy the size of Big Sweet. My family may not fully understand why I need to chase my dreams in America, but maybe they will if I walk back in the door with a glimmering Four Star Cup in my hands. Here's hoping.

As I sit high in the air on a plane headed back to Detroit, I think it's due time to wrap up this self-indulgent diary and get my head back in the zone. But, before I sign off, congratulations! You now know most of the Sulfurgold method to building your perfect hockey body and preparing for the SMJHL playoffs. Maybe when I retire I'll publish the full, unedited method. But until that day comes, I recommend you find yourself a nice German farmhouse, three beautiful mares, Big Sweet, and 50 disgusting birds. That oughtta' give you a good start. As for me? I need to get to practice-- but not before I find some sucker to buy this diary.

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***sve7en*** · 03-16-2020, 01:45 AM

Wait how the fuck did this never get any replies or praise?? This was absolute fire.

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