Motivational Training


by Graham

What?! Hes coming back? When? Why now -- 3 months into the season? Whod we trade for him? Adam Sanders, the teams captain, reacted with questions and incredulity at the news that his former teammate, Chris Modesto, had been traded back to them from Columbus.

Victor Raminoff. They think he can help them at center ice and behind the blue line on defense. Maybe he can. Buts hes definitely slowing down – he should at 44! And weve got Craig and Nate to anchor our defense, and together they dont equal Victors age!

Dont misunderstand, Coach. I like Chris a lot. We roomed together on the road during the years he was here. Hes a heck of a nice guy. Friendly, easy to get along with. Its just that, . . . well, . . . he never has come close to living up to the hype he came here with. the captain explained.

I know what youre saying, Adam. Ive got my doubts, too. You know, he came here as our first and number one draft-pick over 5 years ago – when he was 18 – and was supposed to be the next Gretzky. But Ive watched the numbers myself. 18 goals his first season; 23 the next; then 14, 11, and 7 last season. Thats a pitiful total of 73 goals – way less than a quarter of what should be his production, based on his abilities and skill. So far this season, after 3 months, he has a shocking 2 goals.

And, its not like hes shifted the production to assists, because his overall points total, up through last night, is 142 – less than half! Heck, what am I doing?! Im scaring myself out of this whole, latest endeavor with him!

But our new trainer, Dirk, has been studying films of Chris play, and he thinks hes got the technique to motivate him and get him to perform us to his hoped-for ability. Anyway, it was a no-loss trade, and we can afford to give it a try for this year. I thought wed move him to right wing, and try him on your line. If it doesnt work out, hes gone. On the other hand, if Dirk can work the magic he claims, it might just be the smartest, dark-horse move of the season.

Chris will be arriving tomorrow, and Id like to have him back rooming with you on the road, Adam. It can only help Chris. Coach Peters explained.

Well, Coach, but what about Brad? Hes been my roommate ever since Chris was traded two seasons ago? Hows he gonna feel about this?

Ive already talked to Brad, and hes willing to take on Aaron McClure, the new, young winger we got in last summers draft – to shepherd and mentor him. So, that will free you up to take Chris back under your direction, if you would. Maybe, with whatever Dirk is planning on doing with Chris, and you taking him under your wing, we can turn him and his career around, into what all the hoopla had promised about him.

Okay, Coach. Im willing to do it. Ill sure give it a try. Chris is back with me, then, starting tomorrow when we leave on the next road trip.

Great, Adam. Thats what I always appreciate about you. You always give 100% to whatever we do. Well give shaping up young Chris Modesto our best efforts.

Got it, Coach, Adam replied as he put away his gear, having changed back into street clothes, and walked out of the dressing room.

Saturday afternoon was a short team meeting before they boarded the plane for the flight to Phoenix. Chris Modesto! everyone shouted as he walked into the training room to join the team for the meeting. We heard you were coming back! Glad to see you again, buddy, they called out. Chris was definitely one of the most easygoing and likeable guys around. The only time anybody on the team had ever said anything bad about Chris, in the years he had been with the team earlier, was when they were under the gun, in a tight game or series, and they needed to be tough and aggressive under pressure. That was when people would shake their head with disbelief, at the lack of intensity and drive by the tall, thin, blond, young center.

At 23 ½, he still looked about 18 -- tall, at 6'3"; thin, about 190 lbs; with muscled thighs and legs that looked more like oak trunks and limbs, and chiseled features that obviously had never been affected by the blows of gloves and fists. The truth was, he looked more like a blond, blue-eyed, beach boy, or an actor or model, than a rugged professional hockey player. The guys quickly reconnected with him, and were talking and laughing together as they left the meeting for the plane.

They arrived in time to warmup for the game at 7:30 that night. The game was a close one, and the whole team had to hit big and hard, battle for the puck, and struggle to cling to a 1-goal lead. The Coach and the captain were noticeably disappointed and upset. Although he skated hard and fast, Chris was basically a non-factor in the game. The other team consistently beat him out of the puck in the corner, knocked him off the puck when he tried to advance it, and upended him with several, hard, mid-ice hip checks. He seemed always to back off or away from any real, hard-hitting confrontation. The win was scraped by, but without any help from Chris.

Sunday was a rest and travel day, and Monday night the team had another game in Los Angeles. During the flight, the Coach expressed his dismay and concern to the captain, Adam, concerning the lackluster play of Chris Modesto on Saturday night. Its the same ole thing weve watched for years in the past. He told Adam, Set the alarm, I want Chris up to meet with Dirk, the trainer, at 11 a. m. tomorrow.

At 10:30, the Coach met Chris Modesto at the hotel, and drove him to the arena. Chris looked fresh, rested, and handsome as ever in khaki shorts, a polo shirts, and barefoot in deck shoes. They walked into the guest teams training and dressing facilities. Dirk, the trainer, was a huge guy, about 6' 8" and easily 280 lbs of solid, rock muscles. He stuck out a hand that was so massive it seemed to swallow Chris hand.

Dirk led them into the training room, told Chris to get changed, and then inserted the videotape from the Saturday night game in Phoenix into the vcr tv in the corner of the room. Chris walked in barefoot, with a towel wrapped around him. He looked at the long, but odd-looking, training table, and then wondering at Dirk and the Coach. Up you go, big fella, Dirk directed. This baby vibrates, as well as holds you in place for the body work.

Chris climbed up on the table, lying on stomach with the towel still wrapped around him. Dirk walked over, pushed the young man down flat, and then reached around and untucked the towel from around his waist. Pulling it off Chris, he immediately replaced it over the young mans flat, muscled butt, draping over the sides of the table. Then he reached over and pulled up a wide, thick belt over the horizontal young mans low back, fastening him to the table. Got to buckle up, before starting the engine, Dirk chuckled, and Chris accepted the circumstances, trusting the trainer and coach about this method.

Dirk began methodically working on the tensed muscles of Chris entire body, kneading, pummeling, smoothing. Then, he started the vibration, and the table began shaking as it also elevated in the center, splitting Chris at the waist into two, downward draped haves, head and feet each hanging draped towards the floor. Wow! Whats happening?! Chris called out. This is different, isnt it? Really loosens everything up, as he was jostled, bounced, bumped, and shaken against the table, tossing the towel off his butt and hips, onto the floor.

The trainer stopped the table vibration, leaving Chris hanging over the elevated center of the table. Lets look at the films, Coach, he interjected. Chris had no time to inquire or object, before the coach started the films of Saturday nights game. They began watching it, and then fast forwarded about every 2 minutes to catch each of Chris appearances on ice.

Watching the films was incredibly enlightening to everybody. Chris exhibited a combination of sheepishness and wide-eyed surprise to see himself backing off and away from challenges to the puck, in the corner, and coming across the blueline. Dirk and the Coach were similarly dismayed at the lukewarm play by Chris.

Look at that, Chris. There it is again. You shouldve jumped right on that puck, knocked that man off it. Instead, you halted, and he took advantage of it. Look there, that man knocked you off the puck, and scooped it up to transition to the other end. You just staggered a little, and let him go. What is this?! This makes no sense, young man! All of sudden, the trainers voice turned severe and cold. What dya say about this kind of stuff?

Well, . . . Chris was delaying as he tried to come up with some sort of excuse.

Well, nothing, young man. You play like this, when youve got your size and skills? You are a very, bad boy! You know it, too!

Well, ah, maybe a little, but not that bad, Coach.

Bull, kid, Dirk interrupted. You are bad, bad, bad. And you know it. There is no way to excuse somebody like yourself playing like this!

Silence. Obviously, Chris knew he had nothing to say. Dirk went on.

What happens to bad boys, who dont do what they are supposed to do, what they know theyre supposed to do, what they ought to do?

More silence.

Ill tell you, youngster. They get punished. They get correction. They get their butt blistered. And so will you.

WHAAACK!

Chris was jolted out of a stupor induced by watching the films and listening to the trainer and coach. Something had hit his rearend like a truck running into a wall.

WHAAACK! Again! WHAAACK! Again! WHAAACK! Not again! WHAACK! Ooo-wow! Both arms flew up and back to shield his radiating behind, and turning his head to the right and upward, he saw Dirk wielding a small paddle-like instrument, permeated with small holes, repeatedly striking Chris upturned bottom.

Get his hands out of the way, Coach, Dirk instructed. Were not interested in affecting his passing or shooting – just his sitting around! The Coach stepped up, grabbed Chris arms pulling them outstretched ahead of him, away from trying to cover his backside. Fasten them in the wrist straps, Coach. That way, the young man cant do himself harm trying to protect his bottom.

WHAAACK! WHAAACK! WHAAACK! WHAAACK! WHAAACK! This is what a boy who knows what he should do, and how to do it, but doesnt do what he is supposed to do, earns for himself. WHACKWHACKWHACKWHACKWHACK! WHAACK! WHAACK! The last, rapid series swats both shocked and outraged the young athlete. His legs were flying up and kicking up and down, and he strained violently against the belt encircling his waist and the straps holding his arms outstretched -- trying to get free, to get away.

Here, young man, lets secure your legs, so you dont injure those strong muscles that you need for exploding on the ice. He grabbed each of Chris legs, pulled them down and to the side of the table, fastening them with leg-ankle straps. The young man was now completely confined to the jack-knifed training table, with his bare, reddish bottom poised in the air as a target for the trainer.

Lets look at some more films, now. This will be ideal for reinforcing points to young Christopher, here, Dirk directed. The Coach resumed playing the game films. Each time an opportunity arose for Chris to take initiative, get the puck, carry the puck, hit a puck carrier, and he failed to do it, they paused the tape, and Dirk administered more motivational talk and swats to Chris smoldering rearend.

At first, Chris was angry and belligerent, telling the trainer and coach they didnt know what they were talking about, didnt know what they were doing, commanding them to let him loose.

You-aumphaaaa! Y-youre crazy! Owchaa! Ow! Ow! Stop! I-ow! did-aaah! my-uh! Ow! best! Oooo-ow! Stop it! Now! Ow! Ow! Ow! Oww!

Now, youngster, denials and lies only earn more, needed punishment and correction, thats for certain, Dirk scolded, as he popped the paddle repeatedly against the overturned athletes sizzling butt and thighs. He was starting to get through to Chris, though, as the young man began conceding that his play wasnt what it should have been, apologizing for not trying and working harder, promising to do better and that it wouldnt happen again.

I think youre starting to understand, Christopher, Dirk responded. Lets look at some more films, Coach. The remainder of the game films was replete with instances of Chris skating around – very fast – but always backing away and failing to do anything. Again and again, they stopped the tape, pointed out the defaulting behavior of Chris, and walloped his burning bottom until he couldnt protest any longer. Tears that he had fought back valiantly burst forth from his eyes. His mouth was agape, and from deep inside, and probably far too many years ago, erupted wailing, bawling sobs. His long, strong body shook and heaved as he cried and cried with each, successive swat to his battered bottom and wounded pride.

Aaaa-ughuh! Okaaaay! Uh! Uh! Im sorreeeee! Oooo-uh! Ow! Ow! Aaa-uh! P-pleeez! Stop! Oooo-uh-ow-ow-oweeee! Ooooo-uh-pleeez! Illbegood! Ow! I meeeenit! Ooo-uh-ow! Aaaw-uh! Ahughuh! Ow! I will! I will! Ooooo-un-uh-n-nooooo! Stopit! Stopit! Oooo-augh! Ow! Illbegood! Illbegood! Illbegoooood! Oooo-noooo-uh! Mooooor! Stop! Oooo-uh! Uh! Ow-ow-yoweeee! Waaaaa! Waaaaaa! Uh-waaaaaa! Illwork-uh! Oooo-ow! harderrrrr! Iwill! Iwill! Ooo-uh-pleeez! Lemme try harder! Ow! Pleeeez! Augh-uh-waaaaaa! PLEEEZ! Lemme-uh! Triiiiii-uh! Oooo-uh! I promissss! Aaa-uhg-uh! Waaaaa! Aaa-uh-waaaaa! Waaaaa-uhnaaa-uh-waaaaa! Aiughuh-waaa!

All at once, he lurched and strained as powerfully as he could gather, head pushing backward, then collapsed into even greater sobbing and shuddering. Finally, he was broken and mastered by the instruction and discipline of the coach and trainer.

Ooo-uh-pleeez! Lemme try harder! Ow! Pleeeez! Augh-uh-waaaaaa! PLEEEZ! Lemme-uh! Triiiiii-uh! Oooo-uh! I promissss! Aaa-uhg-uh! Waaaaa! Aaa-uh-waaaaa! Waaaaa-uhnaaa-uh-waaaaa! Aiughuh-waaa! Ooo-uh-ow-uh! Help me! Ooo! Pleeeez-uh! Help me-uh-waaaaa! I wannabegood! Oooo-uh-yow-uh-waaaaaa! Pleeez! Augh-uh! Oww-uh-yow! Helpmebeee-augh! Ow-uh! gooooood! Uh-aw-wanna! Oooaa! I dooooo! Ow-waaaaa! Waaaa! I wannabegooood! Ooo-augh-uh-aw-waaaa! Waaaa!

Dirks firm voice softened somewhat, as he reassured the wailing young man. We know you do, Chris. We know you do. You just need some help, some taking in hand. Were here for you, boy. You can count on it. We will help you be what you can be -- help you to be good. Amidst shrieking sobs, Chris eyes looked up and backward to the coach and trainer, with almost pleading, needing trust, as he bounced and twisted from each fiery swat to his miserable butt.

When the session was finally over, Chris bottom looked like it had been scorched and blistered by a branding iron. Dirk had peppered the young mans behind until the fiery inferno radiated from it. Meanwhile, they had finally communicated to their talented underachiever how he needed to push and force himself to use his abilities and speed, aggressively and eagerly. He screamed and shrieked his agreement, his promises, and his desires to do it.

Dirk and the Coach explained to Chris that his promise was to do just that, or to be back for further training sessions with them. Then, just to be sure that he remembered this session vividly, they scheduled a return session for noon, the upcoming Saturday. Chris begged them to stop, promising that he would be there on Saturday, but that they would never, ever, need to put him through this again.

Afterwards, they left him lying, whimpering and gasping on the table until about 20 minutes later he regained some composure. Then, releasing him, they handed him the towel and told him to hit the shower, and then meet them back here. They listened as they heard the young man break down, bawling in the downpour of the shower. Afterwards, he limped woodenly back into meet them, face and eyes still reddened from weeping – but he did not sit down.

This is not only for the benefit of the team, Chris, its for your betterment too. the Coach added.

You will be a better player, and a better young man, for the discipline that is brought to bear. Do it – and see! If not, youll see more of the correction motivation! Dirk admonished.

Ooooo-uh! Youll see, Chris reassured them. Im gonna do itl Im never going to go through this again!

Well, I hope so; but well see, Dirk replied. Then the Coach ushered Chris out of the door, they walked stiffly down the long corridors of the arena, and out to the Coachs car.

Here, Chris, he called out. Put this on the seat to sit on, and he pulled out a pillow and tossed it onto the passenger seat. Gingerly, Chris lowered his behind down onto the pillow, winced as he pulled in his long legs, and closed the door. Back at the hotel, the coach let him out, admonishing him to play smart and work hard that night. Although he limped back into his hotel room, he was careful to avoid any chance of anybody – including his buddy, Adam – finding out what had just happened to him.

That nights game, he scored two goals, and was an astonishing force to be reckoned with whenever he was on the ice. After the game was over, he went immediately back to the hotel, to crawl into bed on his stomach and ease the aching pain that still throbbed in his behind. The coach, in amazement, asked Dirk, How did you figure out this technique to use with young Chris Modesto?

Its not too hard. Looking at his size, his talent, and the way he behaves both on and off the ice. It was an easy surmise that this is a kid who has been completely let go without discipline, probably for most of his young life. Its what he needs, and truthfully its what these guys are secretly and inwardly craving. Theyre longing for somebody to care enough about them to take control and make them shape up, make them perform. Taking the starch out, and then imposing some real – and respected – discipline consequences can turn around the head of a boy like this most of the time. Anyway, that was my hunch with him; and, of course, after tonights performance, following this mornings session, Im convinced that recurrent sessions like this are going to be just what the doctor ordered for young, Chris Modesto. With long enough attention to his bottom, hell shape up in his head, and then in his performance.

So, it turned out that regular twice-a-week motivational sessions with the trainer and coach were exactly the prescription for adjusting the attitude, outlook, and performance of this talented, young, undisciplined jock. Whenever, he appeared to be entering a slump, the coach scheduled additional training sessions to bring the wayward young man back on track. Even when he began showing consistency in his play and performance, they kept regular, Saturday noon sessions, just to keep Chris on his toes, remembering, and reinforcing what he was beginning to inculcate into his long-overdue character. Inside the training room could be heard the whacks and wailings of young Chris Modesto. And it paid off.

Before the playoffs, Chris had scored 57 goals, and assisted on 49 others. To the astonishment of the new media, Chris Modesto went from a disappointing, substandard player to a strong, diligent power for opposing teams to face. He played out the remaining 12 years of his career with the team, racking up an astonishing 738 goals and 1729 points total! When he retired at 36, after spending half of his entire life playing professional hockey, he wept openly and unashamedly at the closing, post-game ceremony following the last game of his career. And he publicly thanked the coach and trainer who had taken him on as their project, and invested so much time and effort into his career -- making it the spectacular success that it became.


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