If you don’t already know, I run an athlete training facility in Houston, TX called Genesis Athletic Performance. Every day after I finish with the athletes or my own training, I look across the parking lot at my neighboring “baseball training facility” that is consistently packed with kids, dads, and instructors; all of whom are trying to develop that perfect swing or pitch.

Every day I watch these “athletes” roll up with their dad or hitting instructor, and then spend 1-2 hours working on hitting or throwing mechanics. Every time I see this spectacle, I think to myself, “If only they weren’t so physically and mentally weak.” Sure the kids could be doing worse things like sitting at home eating chips and playing video games, but let’s face it, is their “training” going to help them become a better athlete? More importantly, is their “training” going to help them become a better baseball player?

99% of the “athletes” that I see over there have toothpick arms hanging out of an extra-small t-shirt, and legs that look like they would snap if they stepped off the curb wrong. I doubt they could even do 10 correct push-ups, (Don’t even get me started on squats) but yet they spend hour after hour “tweaking” their swing with hitting coaches, their parents, or both.

In my eyes I don’t care how perfect your swing or throwing motion is. The point remains: If you are weak, there is no point in trying.

These athletes automatically assume their swing is bad when they can’t hit it out of the infield, or they figure their throwing mechanics are off because they can’t throw a ball farther than a mini golf putt. They expect NASCAR results while they are doing practice laps on a moped.

Imagine if they spent just 3 days a week for a month or two coming over to the other side of the parking lot to my place; where weights are moved, kegs are pressed, sandbags are lifted, sledgehammers are swung, and prowlers are pushed. You think they’d still struggle to punch a ball out of the infield? Hell no. They would have the power and strength to crush a ball to the infield of the field next door, and even if they miss-hit or a pitch, their added power gives every shank a fighting chance.

You know how many of those athletes have come over to the facility to check it out and actually train?


That’s right just one, and after spending a few months working on getting stronger and more powerful he is crushing the ball harder than ever before. Now every time he hits at that baseball facility, people ask him about what he’s changed in his swing mechanics, or what he has been doing outside of the batting cages. And every time they ask, he just smiles and calmly points across the parking lot to my warehouse; the one with the squat racks, kegs, big tires, and loud music.

Do people come over and talk to me about what I did with him or how I can help them or their kid? Not once. Why? Because they see all the crazy stuff athletes do over on this side of the lot, and it freaks them out. I don’t operate behind a closed door shrouded full of mystery using secret training programs. The warehouse door is always open for everyone to see how we get after it.

The baseball cages often come to a stand-still when they see us doing things over on our side of the lot. They all stop their hitting drills and come outside to see athletes pushing a truck 40+ yards for reps, flipping tires, or swinging sledgehammers, but not once do they ever cross that grassy parking lot median that separates the real athletes from the future “ball boys”.

Will it change? Who knows? Do I expect it to? Of course not. People are soft and scared; they want the easy way out, and if they don’t magically get better by continuing what they’re currently doing, they just find a better excuse. These are not the people who I want at my facility.

When was the last time you heard someone say, “I hit like crap today because I’m weak and scared.”? I never have… not once. I have heard multiple times about a tweaked wrist/shoulder/back/calf/etc… but that will require a whole other article.

Is it a coincidence that I have more athletes’ names up in the casualty/puke box than current clients? I don’t think so, and I don’t think it is a bad thing either. I don’t want the “Let’s do some curls, a couple bench press sets, flex in the mirror, and call it a day” crew. I want the “I don’t care what you tell me to do. As long as it makes me better it will get done” crew, or as I call them, the real athletes.

If a tough workout is going to keep you from becoming a better athlete, then hang out on your side of the parking lot, and we’ll at least try to not run you over on our next truck push day…