QB Lessons in Mckinney in Dallas will teach you how to about mental reps. Trust the Quarterback Coach in Mckinney. I need you to listen to these Quarterback Lessons in Mckinney. Mental Reps baby. The worst part of playing football. Son, grab some mental reps. You are just sitting back there. The first team offense is on the field. You are by the other quarterbacks. All backup quarterbacks are contagious. They gross me out. You stand back there near them, breathing their same oxygen. Having to associate and talk to them. Especially the third string quarterbacks who are truly drowned and out stuck at the bottom of the well like the girl from the movie the ring. Dead. Their careers left to die on the side of the highway like a broke down car with a chalk date. You ever see those cars. Their front end ripped off, or a severe flat tire. Just left off the side of the highway. The highway patrol marks them with chalk so when they come back, if its still there, its get towed to the junkyard. No owners. That is a third string quarterback. A few of them still have some fight left. But most of them just get girlfriends, focus on their education, and go out modestly and defeated. They start worshiping other players and quarterbacks. Daniel Polk at NC State once said to me, “Marcus has the best arm I have seen.” after he threw a dig route. I just stared at him, and didn’t even offer a response. Cause I don’t give a shit about him or Marcus. No one but myself. I don’t have favorite teams or players. I do love Brett Favre. But he deserves it. Not the guy I am competing with, or some backup. Anyways — see that is how you know you are fucked. You start hanging around like knuckleheads like that, with that expectation for themselves, to worship another guy. They become sports reporters. I mean, Dan are you going to write a Sports Illustrated Article about his leadership next. Its purgatory. You have to avoid this scenario. Its a cancer, that spreads vicariously, and through osmosis, one by one infecting quarterbacks. So you are standing there waiting to go in. In the summer its fine you stay warm. In the winter you just get cold. Bring a handwarmer. Do the Joe Ganz and put a dip in there, some bubble gum. You are standing there getting mental reps. Whats the play you ask, and pretend to look at the crumpled up piece of paper coach gave you before practice with the play script. Oh great, its trey right 200 jet y stick x slant. You see cover three, and wonder– I would throw the slant. He throws the slant. Mental rep. I was right. I am a fucking guest on Jeopardy! now. You watch 5 plays, then you get 2 plays. You run in. The first play is double wing right 200 jet dragon lion. You see cover 2 and throw the lion. Completion. The next play is bunch rt 200 jet x slant spacing. Son of a bitch. These are garbage plays for amateur hour quarterbacking. Its cover three. I throw the fucking slant again. Great. Two slants. Coach I am 2 for 2. You run back out and put your hands in your warmer, and join the glee club again. Coach leans back,– hey run over and get some inside drill. You run down to inside, and hand off 92/93 weak seven times in a row. You fumble one snap. Now you are paranoid about the snap. Thanks inside drill. Everyone in inside drill is just playing the run. So the center and lineman are just crashing into each other at all costs. They don’t think about the running back, the snap, the quarterback nothing. They step on your feet and ankles, its just an advanced hitting drill. Its like being a lawn chair inside the funnel of a tornado. You look down the field, and see folks throwing and catching passes. You can’t escape. The whistle blows and you get some water. The quarterbacks run down to switch, and you cannot get out there fast enough. You run like you are trying to escape a mass shooting. Full speed. No turning back. Shutting off all noise in case they try to call you back. Fuck no. Run Run Run. Get out!!! You run back down to 7 on 7. Its down by the goal line. You go straight in. Whats the play. Double wing rt zebra rt 200 jet y stick x slant on the goal line. I swear to god. You take a three step drop verse picket fence coverage. The tight end is literally 3 yards from you, but you have to throw it like a rocket ball, because there is no space. He drops it. You clap your hands and walk back to the coach. The next play comes in. Bunch rt 200 jet y stick x fade. You line up, see picket fence press. You take a shuffle three step, and throw it flat at the back of his helmet. He catches it. Exciting. The hardest 1 yard pass in the history of football. Whistle blows. and its water break, and pass polish. That is the first hour of practice every day for four years. Dead serious. You sharing 5 yard passes with 5 other quarterbacks everyday. The world tells you life is about competition. But its not. Because competition is adverse to improvement. Read Peter Theil 0 to 1. You end up wasting space and oxygen, and real talent on forcing them onto the bus next to their peers. You shouldn’t have to ride the subway with all the degenerates of the world just to get to work. I mean, why is a walk- on anywhere within 100 feet of me. Talking to me. My brain and conciousness having to download his garbage, being exposed to his swagger. A backup quarterback is the equivalent of clicking on a website, and you get a computer virus. Its like leaving meat from the grocery store out for hours. Its not the right temperature. Its not the right environment. You are going to spoil the meat. You are going to spoil the meal. Give that meat the ingredients, the temperature, the pan, the utensils it needs to be a fine high quality chateaubriand. Mental Reps. The coach wants you to sit back and watch your peer quarterbacks make decisions. To pretend this is some kind of VR porn campaign where you are actually the POV on the play. Just sitting there dying. Wilting away all your feathers. You start becoming resentful. You were once a peacock, now you are a pigeon. You and your family of backup quarterbacks pecking at almonds off a local parks concrete. You get irritable. You just lose all your swag on mental reps. You start staring, and get disoriented like you have been lost in the desert for weeks searching for water. You can’t remember what is going on, or where you are at. You don’t recognize anyone. Two of the other quarterbacks are way worse off. They are really pissed. They have entered transfer territory. You need a Tyvek suit just to be within their radiation. They hate everyone, everything, their entire existence is to not go to a bowl game, not for the team do well, to just be a piece of shit, sabatoge and complain about everything. There is 1 quarterback who never plays, but is a good guy. Thinks he is going to be a coach one day. He claps, and acts like a third party leader. He is like one of Hillary Clintons advisors that shows up on the news to make talking points for her, that she never has to claim for herself. He starts to partner with the starter, helping him prepare and study hard, and know coverages. Offers him insights. He wants to be considered a graduate assistant when he is done playing. This kid makes the total transition. He is an spy behind enemy lines. He gets respect for being loyal, and having integrity, and doing things the right way. The coaches trust him, and check the temperature of the team and quarterback room through him. You can’t say or do anything near this kid. You just wonder to yourself– how fucking stupid is this dumb mutt of a quarterback? Thinks he has been rescued from the SPCA by a rich family. Just being used and abused, never playing, and just a pawn in the culture of the football team. I mean sure he could end up being Zac Taylor and coaching for the Rams. But who gives a shit about that. Trent Dilfer from the Elite 11 will save me. And there I am just standing with my helmet on, its starting to rain, and we are in team drills now. Looks like coach wants to run the ball a lot this weak. I run in an handoff twice– 92 week, and 66 booster. I run out, and grab some gatorade. Stand back in position like one of Lady Gaga’s backup dancers. You ever fall asleep standing up. What the fuck is going on? Dude period 29. How many periods we got today -31. We running today? I turn and ask Daniel, now a withered Indiana Jones skeleton. Looks like his last words were mom. Jaw open. Welp he doesn’t know. He died period 19. I just assume we are. Oh wait today is 2 minute drill. Hell yeah, ill get to do that. I am backup. What if I have to go in the game? I hear my name called. Beck – first team. Lets go. I run out there. He says, call your own plays. I say okay. I call double wing rt 200 jet dragon lion. I hate this play, buts all my memory can remember. I throw the lion verse cover 2. Bunch rt 200 jet y stick x slant. I throw the slant. Fucking MK Ultra mental reps. Out of nowhere I call and hit four verticals verse cover 3. Coach yells – wtf son. The first two plays were great, but then you started to think you were the starter again, and thought you were try to go ahead and throw a touchdown. Get your ass out of there. Jordan hop in there. I can’t be having no god damn middle linebacker at quarterback. I put my hands in my hand warmer. I am going to dicks sporting goods after work to get a visor so coach can’t see my face. Itll be like one of those sleeps masks old ladies wear to bed. Can I get some IB Profen? I ask the trainer. Practice ends.
QB Lessons in Mckinney in Dallas will teach you about the training room. Trust the Quarterback Coach in Mckinney. I need you to listen to these Quarterback Lessons in Mckinney. Stay away from the training room. Whatever you do stay away from the training room. The training room is like a basement in the movie IT. You wake up in the middle of the night with a fever, hearing a voice saying go to the basement. And you go and there is IT waiting to kill you. That is the training room. Don’t go in there. Don’t hang out in there. Don’t become friends with anyone who works in there. Don’t be seen in there. They are all your enemies. Gossip queens. Purgatory. All of them deceitful and liars, and thieves. They don’t help or heal you. They are worthless. Do what your mom says and take 4 IB Profen with a glass of water, and go to bed early. Wake up and eat some chicken noodle soup with a few extra buillon cubes. The coaches will make you tape your ankles every day before practice. You have to go in there. They slab goo on your ankles and feet. They add the pads. They start the framework of the tape, and work their way up your ankle. They do it so god damn tight, it cuts the circulation off in your toes. But its too forgone to redo. They just have to finish, and hopefully it looses up during practice. Your ankles feel stiffer than grandpas Jim Beam and water. My grandpa use to say if you mix your liquor with water then you can get drunk and hydrated at the same time. Swears by it. Also says if you drink vodka every day you will avoid cancer because it cleans out your insides. Debatable, but certainly a great rationalization for why I do. You are getting your ankles taped by these slob medical students who work for free. They are huge fans of the team, and know the stats of all the players. They tell their moms & dads at night through text all the funny stuff that you said and did at practice. Go on message boards and relay secret inside information. I bet its even worse now with instagram, and twitter. I would make every single trainer sign an NDA to be within ten feet of me if I played now.They are like an all-access fan pass to the players. You can’t trust any of them. Scum. They cling to the superstars too. Hey Jake whats up? Bro did you see Andres stats last week? Beast. I just stare at him disgusted. Get the fuck out of my face. Act like they are best friends with the team. Think they can talk to you whenever they want, and call you by your first name. You will accidently see them at a shitty frat party, and they will try to say hi to you. And you barely acknowledge them. I swear to god stay away from trainers. If you get to the you are friends with the trainers phase then you are fucked. Like being friends with the kickers. One of my coaches told me to always stay away from kickers. Its a bad sign. Its a bad omen. They are contagious. Some coaches don’t even let them practice unless its field goal block drill. Some of the low life players on second third and walk on string, will be up in the training debating them, talking to them, watching shitty mid day espn with them. They will start to think they are equals to you. Start to think they can say whatever they want to you. You are not my friend. You are nothing but a guy who tapes my ankles, and makes sure I have water and IB Profen at practice. You get a serious injury like a knee or something. You will have to go to treatment in the morning. That shit turns into the R club, a bunch of degenerate limp dick players circumventing practice together. If you are in the training room and treatment, then you slowly watch yourself seperate from the team. You slowly start entering purgatory. Dantes 12th inferno. Its like you have EBOLA and you are quarantined. You can’t go to meetings because you have treatment. You can’t practice because you need to be on the game ready. Coaches start treating you differently. Teammates start treating you differently. Your girlfriend. Everyone. You have nowhere to run and hide, no one to talk to you. A black hole of injury land. They will make you wear a pink pussy jersey at practice. You will get herded out to practice like a jailbird gang, and have to stretch for three hours, and do pushups, and run gasers. Pure garbage. Paraded out in front of the team like a craiglists george soros protestor. So embarrassing. I FUCKING HATE THE TRAINING ROOM< AND EVERYONE ASSOCIATED WITH IT.
All of the trainers are all feminine, none of them tough. None of them men. So none of your jokes land, and eventually you realize you are hanging out with dorks from high school, and you starting not getting along with the trainers. Now you don’t even have them. You are just alone, and by yourself. Almost all team fights happen in the training room. Because everyone talks shit in there. And debates. And someone says something and next thing you know a fight breaks out in the hot tub, or near the stem treatment tables. Gossips and rumors grow up in here. Like wild flowers on your grandmas fence. Hey man– Russell said you don’t throw like Brett Favre. But Donnelle said, that you do. And everyone watched and listened. And you are just what the fuck are you talking about. I remember I took a tendon in my shoulder at Nebraska during practice throwing a basic route to Nate Swift. I heard it separate like cutting an anchor rope line under water. My dad one time, put a knife in his mouth, and jumped off the boat, and swam under water for three minutes to the bottom of the gulf, and cut the anchor. I thought for sure he had died. I was like 10. Sound of a squeege. I basically had to testify on a grand jury panel to prove that my shoulder was hurt. No one believes you, extreme paranoia. I broke my shoulder at Louisville. Did I go to the training room? Fuck no. I remember one night after going to the bar, my arm in a sling. I came home to grill cheeseburgers for my roommates. And I fell into the patio rails. And re-broke my collarbone. I just went inside. Sat on the couch, and went to bed. Fuck the training room. I am not going in there at 6am to hear about my shoulder. Sleep and God will heal it. I won’t be seen in that training room ever. Never. Not once. If I go get ice. I get it wrapped and walk my ass right out. I wait until no one is in there, and then I sneak in quietly, and wish I had a halloween mask on my face. I don’t want anyone knowing I am in this godforsaken place. Training room gives me the creeps. All the average, marginal, weak, limp and failed players are in there. Its like a graveyard of swag, and careers. The coaches keep note too. You can’t make the club in the tub. They walk by the training room, and keep notes on who is in there. and Why? I use to get in trouble all the time for not going to treatment. I just don’t want to be in there. I don’t know what to tell you. Its a lonely desert of hopes and dreams. All the equipment in there are monuments to the torn labrums of the past. Don’t trust any doctor, any volunteer, anyone associated with the training room. Its just like trusting Micheal Cohen. They are recording you, watching you, and telling on you. I don’t even like training wheels on bikes. Actually I was in there a lot. The cold tub really heals your legs overnight. And Football hurts bad. So you kind of need it.
QB Lessons in Mckinney in Dallas will teach you about your wrists. Trust the Quarterback Coach in Mckinney. I need you to listen to these Quarterback Lessons in Mckinney. Your wrist is the most important part of your body. You don’t even need your legs. Its all about the wrist. Think about it. Go open a door. Twist the handle. When throwing the football its all about the wrist snap. The torque. How much pressure can you pack into a 180 degree rotation of your wrist. You know how they talk about that an alligator packs like a 1000 pounds of pressure per bite. They could bite a jawbreaker in half. A lot of young quarterbacks are using their shoulders, their biceps, their triceps, their legs, whatever the hell else to throw. They need it all. They need the entire body to throw. Then the realest quarterbacks just need a wrist. They just snap their wrist like you lighting a cigarette with a lighter. Snap. Glee club finger snap. Snapchat. Red snapper. You catch a shark on your fishing boat, and that tail is just snapping on the deck. That is your wrist. Sometimes I just stand in front of a mirror with a 20 lb dumb bell, just curling my wrist up and down, side to side. Most powerful wrist in the history of mankind. In the 1800’s I would herd cattle, and just crack whips from my horse. Whipppshhh! Snap it right on the back of that cows ass. Whenever my wife goes and spends all my money getting groceries. I just load up all the bags on my wrists, turning my hands turnip red, trapping all the blood into my hands. I carry all 30 bags into the house in one swoop. Because my wrists are so strong, and so powerful. A rick james pimp slap to Charlie Murphy. Strong wrists. Just laying in bed with a football, and throw it straight up from my nose to the ceiling using only my wrist. Hundreds of times per day. That fat catfish part of my forearm flexing, huffing and puffing, blow the three little pigs house down. My forearm hyperventilates like the guy who won your local turkey trot. Runs 3.5 k his lungs pumping oxygen and blood back into his central nervous system. My wrist and forearm look like a heartbeat. Bum bump Bum Bump. Throbbing. A nitro booster stuck in there. Look at your TV remote, and unslide the part where you put your batteries. That is my wrist/forearm. A couple of double A batters in there. If this was ESPN 2 my forearm is one of those drag racing vehicles waiting for the whistle to rocket off. When I throw the football sounds like a christmas miracle. Sounds like you are lost in the grocery store, and can hear your mom whistle for you. Needs a parachute to come back down to earth. All from the wrist. Torque. Hold your hand out in handshake form with your thumb up. Now turn your wrist all the way down with your thumb to the ground. Do that 100 times a day. Get fast at that turnstyle. Thumb up to thumb down. Snap. Fast. Throw motion should be stronger than a horses thigh. With the agility and flexibility of a ballerina dancer. You are going to drop back. In a phone booth. No one can help you. Ryan Renyolds in the movie where he is trapped in a coffin. Can move his arms or legs. How do you get the ball to the checkdown? Do I under hand it? I literally only have my fingers and wrist. Are they strong enough? I should be able to stand still with nothing but my wrist, and throw a legit 12 yard curl route 40 miles per hour. I should be able to getting sacked, and have only my wrist. Nothing else. And I can complete a pass 50 yards down the field just snapping my wrist. My wrist should be stronger than goosebumps writer R. Line Stine. All 67 books worth of strength. When I go to buy watches, they need to add extra links. A quarterback should have the best handshake on the field. It should feel like a fly buzzing into a venus fly trap. Like you’re on a South African shark tour to touch a great whites nose, and you accidently touch his tounge. Each finger should have a six pack. The top of your hand should like stronger than a grill bracket. I could lay a hamburger on top of your hand, and it would get grill marks during a hot summer. Pure steel grate of a hand. I would stand behind a tree. Pretend I can see the receiver, and the only way that this ball is going to get complete. Is if I throw side wrist, and it better be deadly accurate pass. In fact all your accuracy comes from your wrist. You ever play darts at an old smokey restaurant in Las Vegas. You are trying to hard to aim for the bullseye. You toss the dart, and it hits the red or green part. That was because you had a strong healthy wrist. Your wrist guided that dart home safely like an Uber driver with a gps on your football. You snap your wrist to the receiver, like you are pointing at him when the ball leaves your hand. You are going to poke his chest with the tip of your pointer finger. The ball is for you delivered by UPWrist. A strong wrist will save your life. Defenders can’t rush a quarterback with a great wrist. They can’t sack you if you have a strong wrist. They can grab your belly, your legs and thighs, head and back. But the wrist is too small, its like swatting a mosquito. Hard to catch the wrist. Its a stick of dynamite. They could blow up a building with 400 of quarterbacks wrists. Its K4 explosion. Filled with gun powder. Put it in the old vice grip Favre says to Rodgers. He is a french duel gunslinger. Ill be your huckleberry. Shot. Val Kilmer flicks his wrist. All in the wrist. Saves you time. You can’t be stepping into your throws, and taking up space, taking up circumference. A big ass wingspan. You are not a bald eagle slowly soaring through the sky. Your wrist snaps like a bear trap on an ankle. You need to practice throwing a football like you are throwing darts. You need to practice throwing a football thumb at 90 degree to wrist to downward obtuse. Imagine how a cobra snaps his head to strike his victim. Coil that wrist up and down. Throw the ball with your arms and legs, and the last part is the cobra bite. Shoots out of your hand like a rocket. Up and down snap. Vroom. Flys out of your hand like a javeline. Basically your career is over if you can’t just throw with a wrist. Can you type fast on a computer? If yes, it means the wifi between your brain and wrist is working. If you can’t it means that that you haven’t trained your wrist enough. You need to become a snake charmer. Can you raise that wrist out of the basket with your mind? Anyways – look I don’t know. Go stiff arm someone.
QB Lessons in Mckinney in Dallas will teach you how to understand the genius janitor. Trust the Quarterback Coach in Mckinney. I need you to listen to these Quarterback Lessons in Mckinney. Isn’t it ironic, yes I really do think. I love Alanis Morrissette. So there is this movie with Matt Damon called Good Will Hunting. This guy is a genius janitor. He sneaks into your classroom and does calculus problems for fun on your white erase board late deep into the night. His janitor closet is perfectly organized and stocked, and he meticulously cleans all of this equipment with obsessive compulsion. All of this floors are brilliantly swept and mopped, buffed & burnished. Stripped & Waxed. He is so sweet and polite, and very calm and to himself. He smiles briefly if you ever get to see this phantom of the opera. He lives in a small modest apartment, and can only afford groceries from the local gas station. Eats cheap things like 711 pre-made turkey and cheese sandwiches, with a half seven up half lemonade big gulp. Delicious! This guy is a genius. The smartest human being you have ever met in your life and no one knows. He doesn’t have a Netflix show like Neil Tyson Degrasse. Or a daily article in the business insider about AI taking over the world like Elon Musk. He is way smarter than them. Than everyone. The genius janitor. He can manually write the google algorythm, all 57 points, in seconds on a napkin. If you play him in pool, and a fight breaks out because you just lost $200 to him, then he will mock you by reciting a re-enactment of Napeloean’s two front loss in a war to highlight your miscalculation. You smash a beer on the table, and hold it to his neck. And your beautiful girlfriend with empathy, and compassion, bleeding heart tactics, mesmorized by his heartfelt folklore switches teams. Don’t do that to him! She pleads. He hands you your money back, and leaves with her. Until she finds out he walked to the bar with his reeboks on. She is like – fuck that, and goes back inside. It was cute until I found out you’re poor. He doesn’t need this. He is just a smart kid without a chance. From a poor family. Instead of being Will Smith in the Pursuit of Happiness, scratching and crawling, selling computer monitors, and hustling his way into a major bank firm. No he is smart enough not to want to try to do that. He doesn’t want to apply on indeed.com or go to job interviews, or start his own business, or become an entrepreneur, or build a website or app, or work his way up the corporate ladder, or whatever. Not for him. He is the smartest dumbest fucking person on earth. Wants to clean toilets with his Albert Einstein brain. Here is what is going on. We have a world full of genius janitors. Folks with big brilliant ideas, all talk. No action. They spend $70M on instagram ads to win an election in Texas. They say curated, funny quips & analogies during BIG 10 media days before the football season about the BIG 10 changing the rules for their salt of the earth program. Then they lose, and lose some more distracting you with othello in the garden siloquoys. Every week distracting you further and further into a deep REM sleep. You are not dreaming. Matt Damon in Good Will Hunting is the kid you grew up with in high school who plays guitar great in his moms house, and has an updated live opinion on every topic in the news. He is a liberal cuck with a scientific reason for immigration, and social darwinism. Who will do all the construction jobs? Um, americans? And when you ask him to go to the club. He doesn’t have money. He can’t. Doesn’t have the clothes and is afraid to dance. So people are like – well money is not important. But it is. Because money is the hardest thing on earth to acquire and to keep. Society and all its levers are built on taking it from you. So someone who has money, is not only smart but the money is their driver license that says yes I am fucking smart. I am not a Genius Janitor artist writing poems no one will ever read. One day they will say I am Henry David Thoreau at Walden Pond. Writing eternities about the impact of silence on my rationale self. How romantic? Folks are suffering from the genius janitor syndrome. You are a bum. If you don’t go take, and rip out the heart of what you need, and want to accomplish in life. Then there is nothing. If Frost doesn’t go an win 10 games a season, or take the huskers to a National Title then there is no Scott Frost. If Beto O’Rourke doesn’t win the senate race in Texas. Then there is no Beto O’Rourke. You don’t get a netflix special. Your season 1 gets canceled. You don’t get a slot on the Voice on ABC. You go straight to the NOW 50 cd with all the other no hit wonders. You have to produce constantly, and consistently. Making new slogans, making new songs, winning more games, throwing more touchdowns, creating and circulating more media & meaning. Constantly over and over again. Taking what you want to accomplish. Not talking. Not asking. You don’t ever hear from Leonardo DiCaprio, or Britney Spears, or Micheal Bloomberg. They don’t talk. They just do. They just make Wolf of Wall Street. They are killers. Literally. They are out for vegenance and blood. They don’t hide in a secret classroom and write their name 5000 times on a white board. They aren’t genius janitors. They are genius actors. Genius coaches. Genius politicians. Genius Moms & Dads. Genius Corporate Executives. And for only one reason. Because while you thought you were smart, they knew that the only version of smart that matters is the son of a bitch who does. Oh we are going to be 10-1 sometime soon. No they just go 10-1. When I watch Goodwill Hunting – I think Matt Damon is the laziest, most self centered, ignorant moron of all time. Not smart at all. Just a banana peel. A slippery spot on the floor he forgot to mop up. Because he was too busy building touch screens in his mind. I fall and break my arm. I scream– where is your wet floor sign. I look over at the closet and it has permanent marker all over it. the pie sign 3.14 x 5.2 * square root of four. And its the time it takes to actually make a pizza in algebra. God dammit. Call the ambulance. You are fired Genius Janitor. No common sense. In the equation of life, he can’t find a number to assign himself. Its certainly not number 1. Maybe he doesn’t even exist. Maybe he is a ghost. A poltergeist. Maybe I should call a ghost hunting team to investigate this local college for conjuring. A group of fucking idiots who believe ghosts are real, bought some cameras, and make a million dollars a season chasing bad light bulbs. Fuck you Genius Janitor. You forget to change the lights bulbs, and someone gets rich. I bet you planned that shit. and its all just math. I severely underestimated you.
QB Lessons in Mckinney in Dallas will teach you how about the cafeteria. Trust the Quarterback Coaching in Mckinney. I need you to listen to these Quarterback Lessons in Mckinney. The cafeteria of a major division 1 university is pretty special place. At the University of Nebraska they have a massive griller and smoker just outside with huge hogs of prime rib, bacon wrapped filet mignon on there just nice. Grilling away. Every time you leave class and go to the cafeteria to eat, you walk by that smoking grill, breathing in the juices creating smoke like an oil leak in your Mercedes Benz clogs the throat of the bald headed guy in the chevy bolt next to you at a neighborhood light. He rolls his window down, and says– hey man your car is smoking. Thanks asshole, I am sitting in the car and can see the smoke. An oil repair costs $500 to fix in a mercedes, you gonna pay for it. I just stare at him, and drive off and hope he doesn’t follow me. I don’t know I wouldn’t know anyways because I make a lot of instagram, and youtube videos when driving. I haven’t seen a road in a long time. I just feel and sense other cars like I am in the pocket at Colorado. God that is so bad. Hey the cafeteria is great. You can get king crab legs sawed in half. Brandon Jackson almost died from those. Had a shellfish allergy. Got them removed from campus. Thanks Brandon– my only tie to Florida removed. No one here has even seen the ocean before. Look — they had a philly cheese steak bar, a bacon wrapped filet bar, a prime rib & aus jus bar, a salad bar, an alfredo and pasta making station, an ice cream bar, cakes & brownies, all you can drink milk. Holy shit. Nebraska was like going to the Wynn Buffet in Las Vegas. You just found 4-5 plates of food. I would have a bowl of chicken alfredo, a steak, a glass of milk, some prime rib, and a philly cheese steak with french fries and ketchup. Just snacking on all of that at my pleasure. Then go cap it off with a dumb glass of ice cream, and cold milk mixed together with a spoon until in shake form. They use to be like Harrison — why do you weigh 236 pounds. I don’t know bro, maybe because I get to eat at the Wicked Spoon buffet everyday before class, and after practice. Although I will say James Harris had a whack nutrition bar near the weight room. Sorry bro, I am not going to eat a lucky charms crispy treat, or a gatorade bar, or any of that nasty granola stuff. A scout once told me that the key to staying thin is to always eat foods that you can shit out without consequences. So a granola bar, or trailmix. You get full, and have no calories, or fat or anything. I tried it, but there is something about a cheeseburger on french bread. I just have to sink my fangs into it. The team snack at Nebraska was whack though. Bill Callahan ordered us grilled cheese sandwiches. WTF. They sucked. And then some stiff ass cookies. Terrible team snack. The worst ever. Lemonade and chocolate chip cookies. You ever try that combination. No.
But then I left. I went over to NC State, and they had us eating with the students like common folks, among the peasants. Hey Chris from some random ass chemistry class. How are you? Why are you in my bisquits, bacon, and eggs, and milk line? I would wake up and go do 5 am agilities. Shower, then take my butt over to the food place. Walk in– get a bunch of bacon, at least 30 strips, 4-5 bisquits, soft ones only, cream cheese, some eggs, maybe make them make me an omlet with cheese & bacon, cut it up, and put together an amazing breakfast sandwich. Maybe some french toast sticks with syrup to get the sugary sweet counterbalance. And just pound 7 – 8 glasses of milk. Amazing breakfast, amazing morning. Then go to my math class that a Viatmanese lady took, and I would fall asleep. Wake up, and be like, damn I got to pass this test. Then go to her office hours. The key to graduating college is to always go to office hours. They help you do your homework, and help you take the test. You pass that way. But damn I was stuffed. Then I would head on back over for lunch. NC State was not as rich as Nebraska. Lunch was like – chicken tenders & burgers, and fries– cheap state fair type food. But I would pound at least 30 chicken tenders with ketchup. Glasses of milk. and Go to practice. The key to lunch is you had to get an ice cream cone after. The best part was when I found out that I had $300 semester on my NC State student card to use at the gift store. I started going and getting things like Milk, and Taco Bell, and Ice Cream, and Candy, and minor groceries. Blow that card out. I didn’t realize until my Junior year that money was there. So I had racked up like $1500 dollars. I was student card rich. Balling out of control. Buying taco bell for my girlfriends. What do you need — how about 10 soft tacos meat and cheese only? I got you. But then that card went blank. I used it all. NC State had the realest team snack of all time. They brought you to the Sheraton. They had all you can eat cheeseburgers, with cheese slices. All you could eat chicken tenders, and 4 different types of chicken wings. They had soft chocolate chip cookies, snapples, milk. OMG I would pound 5-6 cheeseburgers every night after our boring quarterback huddle. Harrison are you ready for the game tomorrow. We are going to run shallow cross. Yeah coach. Now the shut the fuck up, so I can go eat these cheeseburgers. I would be the last person in there, then waddle my ass up to the hotel room, and go to sleep. I had a terrible roommate- Daniel Evans. Like sleeping with a bible on my chest in the 1700’s hoping the ghosts of the salem witch trials didn’t make me unpure from watching MTV. Hey Dan- you want to get a movie. Sure, how about Fast and Furious- something decent. End up watching Garden State or some whack movie. Damn. Anyways– there is a recap of some solid dining in college. I will say that since my dad was a personal chef for Hulk Hogan as a kid in Bellaire. I learned how to cook as a kid. I know now when you have a girlfriend and you ask for dinner, they make you mac n cheese with ketchup noodles. But dear god, no. But I learned how to make core value meals like chicken and rice, and spaghetti & meatballs, and cheeseburgers, and roast beef aus jus sandwiches, and fettucini alfredo, blackened grouper with jumbo lump crab meat & hollandaise sauce and much more. You can’t cook shit unless you can make the mother sauces from scratch. So good. Everyone always wanted to watch the Hills at my house because it was like a catered event. I am a baller ass chef. But that goes with playing quarterback. You have to lead the huddle, and the food right into your teammates mouth. Better have a solid rack of ribs game going. You got to have the WR come over and feed them. They grew up poor and never ate like you will make them eat. They will love you. Yo H– I am finna slide through and get some ziti. They would come in and I would have a big dumbass bowl of ziti with parmesean cheese, some rick ross on the speakers, video games set up. You have to cook for the team. You are not a quarterback unless you cater full on major dinners and lunches for the team. I would sacks of rice crispy treats, platters of pulled pork bbq sandwiches just waiting for the game to end. Long ass bus ride home with a belly full of food. Take a nyquil PM, do some freestyle raps to drake instrumentals on youtube, and go to sleep. Wake up at home. Go to sleep again. Wake up and eat some more rice crispy treats in milk. Arms black and blue like I was in that chinese bus that crashed over the bridge the other day on the news. Hey– just remember when you throw picks, or the game is on the line, or your job is in questions. Receivers ALWAYS remember who took their to Hooters 1x a week on a $200 chicken wing blowout tab. That was me player. That’s why I am beloved secretly by all receivers I have ever played with. Although I am a son of a bitch.
QB Lessons in Mckinney in Dallas will teach you about watching film. Trust the Quarterback Coach in Mckinney. I need you to listen to these Quarterback Lessons in Mckinney. Everyone has this fantasy that Peyton Manning spends hours watching film. Just clicking forward and reverse on his best buy $19.99 remote in a dark room, with a half eaten box of chicken wings, and Marvin Harrison on the ground in a sleeping bag, half napping half watching film together like its a middle school sleepover. Marvin can hear my voice in his head when we play like I am yelling into a yoohoo can stringed between my neighbors house. Stop. No one actually watches film. Not Jamarcus Russell, not Peyton Manning, no one. The same way that you get off of work at 5pm and take your ass to home depot to get some lawn care products after work. Because you are about to go home and weedwhack. These guys are doing the same shit. Look, don’t get me wrong. Yes they watch film. But its basically you just starting at a screen. You watch 1-2 games– you see they bring the MOB, or a cross dog, or mike will. You choose slide protection. And then you go to the team cafeteria for lunch. You will spend all week watching Clemson play quarters, and get into the game and its man to man cover 1. Why? because film is mostly fake. Coaches insert fake plays, and formations into the film to make you “prepare for it.” Thanks Clemson, I was planning on running Fox 2 X Y post for a quarters beater, and now you are in man and the game is all about shallow cross, flanker driver. We didn’t prepare for that because it wasn’t on film, right. You might as well play quarters are your college roommates keg party. Because that is more real than the hours of my life I just wasted on Clemson film. Look there are some decent versions of film. Don’t get totally confused. Watching yourself. I love watching myself throw. I can spend 5-10 minutes stuck in FF/RW on just my elbow to forearm to snap. Watching it. Admiring it. Admiring me. Then post it on instagram and twitter. You will learn some things from watching yourself. Like man I have great hips, and a great wrist, and great throwing motion. Wow the ball looks great coming out of my hand. Non stop- Harrison. Look — Steve Deberg once said he was in a game, and he kept getting sacked because the defensive tackle saw him move his hands before calling for the snap. A twinkle of his fingers. Or the white in his knuckles before the snap. Even though you can barely make out jersey numbers on shitty non-hd game film. Why don’t folks film their team in HD Blue Ray quality? With all the snap chat filters out there, and I have to watch film on a Nicolas Cage 8mm film reel. Jesus. But look he got sacked 8 times. All because of his hands. So yes, if you want to get in the DETAIL like Peyton. Then that kind of film watching can work. But you have to say, okay I saw this on film. Then go to the practice field and you have to change the behavior. Its not just a cheeseburger at the movie gallery, and you rate the movie on Fandango. 3 star. Tom Hanks was to die for. You have to leave the film room, and go spend 3 hours in front of a mirror not twitching your fingers like a bird with a broken wing before the snap. My focus running a team would be on practicing. Actually running plays in person. Improving my skill in person. Live reps. Not mental reps. Not film reps. Actual muscle memory. You have all these damn kids doing sprints, and olympic lifting, and diets. When the reality is that if you are a quarterback. Then you need to throw. A lot. 300 passes a day. If you are a running back. You need to line up, and take a hand off, and key cut a lot. If you are a lineman you need to get your hand placement right, and battle a lot. You have to do. Film is solid. Film is great. It will catch things like two lineman chatting while Baker Mayfield gets sacked, and playing each other. It will have the eagle eye view that catches a wrong route. Or someone falling down. Or bring perspective after a game to a bad read, or highlight difficult decisions you made, and provide evidence and examples of why for the grand jury fans, family & friends. Everyone on social media is a football analyst now. They breakdown your 30 seconds Gary Daniels voice-over clip of your throwing 1 pass out of 49, and write the eulogy for your entire career. One time I dropped a snap verse UCF and Dana Bible goes in the film room, “Harrison, did you drop the snap?” I said ,”I don’t remember,” while watching the film of me dropping the snap. Because who gives a fuck. What is the point of me watching myself dropping a snap. So I can relive that nightmare and memmory in my mind. When a quarterback is about compartmentalizing and moving on. This knucklehead wants to me to relive Halloween the day after the game like I am Laurie Strode, and Jamie Lee Curtis can’t escape Micheal Myers. By the end of the season you are Bill Murray in Ground Hog day. Just jumping off buildings every time its a Tuesday morning film session. You are who the film says you are. No not really- it doesn’t have me playing a beautiful song on the piano. I can do that too. It was great. I basically learn nothing, but the film gets used to punish me with evidence in front of my peers. In politics they pay to have the film burned. In third world countries you would get shot for airing anti- propoganda against their glorious leader. But no, in football they use film to perpetuate mistakes. Then call it a learning experience. No your just fucking up the character I am building, and interfering with my management. You are like google in the Arab Spring trying to start a coup in Turkey to overthrow the leader. After a bad game, maybe you should just show highlights of me in practicing throwing bombs. Show an HBECK mixtape. Get my swag back. Damn NC State sucked. But look– life isn’t rivals.com and your recruiting stops your freshman year. From there on its all about using film as evidence on your unemployment claim. Anyways– look go ahead and watch film. Try it. Try to get 30 minutes in without yawning. You might get fidgety in your chair. But remember. You can’t be fidgety because if you are moving your hands, you’ll get fucking sacked dawg. Thanks Steve.
Listen to your quarterback lessons in Mckinney in Dallas. Trust your quarterback coach in Mckinney in Dallas. Hear your qb lessons in Mckinney in Dallas. Go get a tape measure. Put your hand on the table. Spread your fingers out from thumb to the tip of your pinky. Measure it. Drew Brees was a 10 1/4 inch hand. Brett Favre was a 10 3/8 inch hand. Cam Newton has a 9 1/4 inch hand. Mike Vick has a 8 3.8 Inch hand. Very small. Ron Mexico. Hey but listen your hand size is a big deal. Don’t be like Tua Tagoloivolia who throws like a shot put. This kid throws a football like he is by his driveway picking up stones, and grabs a rock too big for his hand, and grips it off to the side. His finger tips busting under the pressure. Its all about hand size. The bigger the hand, the better you can grip the football. You can tell a quarterback has a smaller hand when he grips the back of the football. For example his ring finger is on the first lace rung, or he has to have multiple fingers on the laces, and usually the top. I mean Zac Taylor use to have his ring finger and his pinky on the top back of the football. It was embarrassing. Big hands allow you to covet the ball into your palm. Your ring finger should be on the second or third rung, and your top two fingers split into almost a 90 degree angle, with the your pointer finger near the top tip of the ball. If you are throwing a ball short 10-20 yards, then you need to hump the grip down toward toward the middle of the ball. But if you are going deep then slide it back like you are holding a javeline. And throw it. Big hands are key. For handshakes. Engulfing your competitions hand. The tips of my fingers wander down the backup quarterbacks forearm. He gets nervous and calls his mom asking why his hands arent bigger. Does the Jared Goff, goes home and gets out the jergens lotion, and massages his finger tips, to stretch them out, and make them longer. Seriously, this is what college quarterbacks are doing before the draft. Hand massages. Jelkin their fingers. Jeez. Anyways — look it matters for taking the snap as well. Most young quarterbacks hold their hands open like an alligator mouth. But you need your hands separated. Your hand on top of the boat, with the wings wide open, and closing on the snap. Small hands you will have trouble swallowing the ball from the center, and fumble the snap. Then spend the rest of the practice not even able to focus on throwing the ball. Instead scared you are going to drop the snap. You don’t even want to go in. Just standing there nervous about dropping the snap. Everyone thinks it sucks when a quarterback throws a pick. Or when they lose. No, purgatory for quarterbacks is fumbling the snap. Its 100 percent the worst feeling in the history of quarterbacking. Ruin the whole day. Anyways — grow your hands out player. Get them bigger. Take a forearm gripper to class, and squeeze that thing 200x a day. Get strong hands. Make them pump. Get the muscles pumping. Get a strong John Wayne grip. Do things like learn how to play piano and guitar, so they get flexible and dexterity. So your hands can do gymnastics. You need flexible hands like Lady Gaga in the bad romance video. Can’t have old stiff Brian Urlacher neck hands. Gotta have huge 10.5 inch HBeck hands. Makes great london broil hands. Son your wrists stiffer than a corn on the cob. Can’t have honey moon dick for wrists. You ll will break it falling 50 times a day. Need strong, flexible forearms, wrists and hands. All your power comes from the hand, from the wrist and grip. Grab a football the same way Trump grabs a pussy. And throw that bitch.