Obviously, I would love for all of you guys to select to be absolutely extraordinary at this game, or at least commit yourselves to being as good as you can be.  There are enough hours in the rest of the day for you to chase every other dream you have.  But to chase this as a dream, to be absolutely the best you can be, is going to take a serious commitment from you.  It's not going to be easy.  There are going to be days when you don't want to pour anything into this, and as a result on those days, just like with the algebra grade, it can compromise you.  It may just be to the tiniest degree, but the margin between the very good and the extraordinary is something incredibly minor like that.  SO make sure you understand that whatever you decide to do, that you've chosen it.  And make sure you understand that it's not what you do in the week or the month before the season begins, it's what you do now.

We thought that teacher was full of shit, and part of the joy of being at boys' boarding school is acting like an absolute jackass, so we decided to test him and not do our homework.  He never reprimanded any of us, never treated any of us differently if we didn't turn something n.  And then one day it dawned on me what he was really trying to teach us.  It's a tremendous lesson.  How you choose to spend your time every day is going to shape who you are.

So many dull days, on my worried windowpanes

that a storm is coming,

and I hear the far-off fields say things

I can't bear without a friend,

I can't love without a sister.

The storm, the shifter of shapes, drives on

across the woods and across time,

and the wold looks as if it had no age:

the landscape, like a line in the psalm book,

is seriousness and weight and eternity.

What we choose to fight is so tiny!

What fights with us is so great!

If we would only let ourselves be dominated

as things do by some immense storm,

we would become strong too, and not need names.

When we win it's with the small things,

and the triumph itself makes us small.

What is extraordinary and eternal

does not want to be bent by us.

I mean the Angel who appeared

to the wrestlers of the Old Testament:

when the wrestlers' sinews

grew long like metal strings,

he felt them under his fingers

like chords of deep music.

Whoever was beaten by this Angel

(who often simply declined to fight)

went away proud and strengthened

and great from that harsh hand,

that kneaded him as if to change his shape.

Winning does not tempt that man.

This is how he grows: by being defeated, decisively,

by constantly greater beings.

-The Man Watching by Rainer Maria Rilke

Pg 328

-Harold Kushner

Pg 327 

-On the Road by Jack Kerouac

Pg 325

Pg 322

-Dean Smith

Pg 320

Pg 316

-Bazooka Joe comic

Pg 314

Pg 309