What I see happen to the majority of people on a structured program is they will give a high level of focus and intensity to their main lift, be it some form of bench, squat, deadlift or clean. After that first exercise is done, the mentality shifts. Well, today is squat day, and I already finished squatting so I’ll just breeze through the less important parts of the workout.

Now, I’m not saying every program ever written is perfect, but for the good ones I’ve followed, every single exercise is there for a purpose. To treat a lift as unimportant just because it is not a bench, squat or clean does nothing but limit you. Push yourself on the main lifts. That’s great. But find a way to push yourself on the inverted rows, the back extensions and the other less stylish exercises that you might wish you could skip over. Don’t just bang out three easy sets of 10 and call it a day, throw a weight vest on a challenge yourself.

Another way of looking at it is this gives you even more opportunity to keep improving – even if your main lift sucked for that workout, you still have opportunities to get better in each of your assistance lifts. It’s not uncommon for me to have a crappy squat or bench day every once in a while, but I don’t let that dictate the rest of my lift – instead I maintain that same energy on my dumbbell rows, weighted pullups, etc. and usually manage to have a productive lift overall.

The take-home point here: if you maintain the kind of focus and intensity that most guys bring to their main lift throughout the entire training session, you’re going to squeeze bigger gains out of your program in the long run.

This is a perfect example of how a supplementary exercise can lead to big improvements if trained with high intensity.

I set foot on campus a lean 6’3″ 188 lbs and left for winter break a solid 210 lbs

So what is it about the college training and lifting environment that causes this explosion in size and strength, and why should these types of gains be limited to collegiate athletes? I’m here to tell you that even a novice high school athlete with little weightlifting experience can achieve an intermediate level of strength and transform their body with 3-4 months of proper training.

Programming/Strength Coach

A minor, but noteworthy factor in the “college bulking phenomenon” is the fact that college baseball teams typically have their own dedicated strength and conditioning coach. This is sometimes, but not always present in high school programs. In addition, S+C coaches at the collegiate level tend to place more emphasis on strength whereas high school S+C coaches focus more on the conditioning aspect of performance. Because high school programs don’t always have the time or resources (dedicated S+C coach, facilities), players are often left to lift on their own, if at all. For example, I attended a relatively small high school, where lifting was entirely optional.

Aside from time and resources, the actual quality of the programming given by the S+C coaches may vary. This is not to say that most colleges prescribe perfect, custom lifting programs – there is still generally a pretty basic and one-size-fits-all mentality here, but some guys will respond to simply being put on their first periodized, somewhat balanced program that emphasizes basic compound lifts as opposed to the pec flies, bicep curls and leg extensions that you see in a lot of high school programs.

Routine/Consistency

For some, routine and consistency is the difference maker in college. In high school, especially for multi-sport athletes, it can be tough to stick to a consistent training program throughout the offseason. Even for athletes focusing solely on baseball, it can be tough to be consistent when lifting is entirely optional according to your coach and teammates. Even more frustrating, no time is built in for maintaining strength during the long season. College teams have more control over their players, who often represent an investment in the form of a full or partial scholarship. There is therefore almost always increased structure and routine, which can translate into bigger and more consistent size and strength gains throughout the year.

Nutrition

Nutrition in college can be a double-edged sword. For those on a meal plan, prepared food is conveniently available most of the day. This virtually eliminates food preparation time and allows the athlete to spend their effort actually consuming all of the food that they need to eat. However, food options are often limited for athletes hoping to consume a relatively clean diet. It can be difficult to get adequate fruits and vegetables in your diet and with so little available time, fast food becomes a mainstay for many athletes.  Another difference when it comes to nutrition is that some collegiate coaches give their players personalized meal plans to follow. This does not mean that compliance is perfect (far from it, in most cases), but its establishes a little more structure in a player’s diet and gives them a goal to shoot for each day. While compliance is still an issue, the very fact that these athletes know what they should be eating gives them a step up on most high school athletes who pay little attention to this aspect of performance.

The X-Factor

The above list plays a very important role in the college “bulking phenomenon” but it leaves out the most important piece of all. What about guys like me, who made good progress in high school, but nothing like what I saw in my first few months of college? I had a strength coach my senior year of high school. Indeed, I made very good progress under Nick Tumminello with what I consider superior programming to what I’ve been following of late. I was able to come up with routines and be consistent with my training. I kept training logs and didn’t miss lifting sessions. For the most part I knew what my diet should look like and did a pretty good job of following it. I ate as much as it took for me to make progress, and when I plateaued, I stepped up my nutrition. Even though I was down 7-10 lbs after a long summer season, there’s no way I should have jumped up from 188lbs to 210lbs in 4 months (2.5 months, really. I didn’t gain any weight over the 6 week long fall ball season and neither did most players). At least, given my previous gains there shouldn’t have been any way. What changed? For me, the training environment played the most critical role of all. This is the X-factor that pushes people out of mediocre gains and into exceptional gains.

More specifically, the competition I was exposed to fueled my progress. I was thrown into a world where my strength and athleticism were average at best. I felt small and weak. I was put into the only mindset that allows for great progress – one of being uncomfortable, unsatisfied and challenged. I saw what I could be, all around me. I was surrounded by people striving for the same thing I was. There was sense of purpose, there was a sense of camaraderie, there was a sense of competition and there was a sense of urgency.

Competition is the key word here. It was the driving force behind all of our intensity, energy and enthusiasm. In high school I only really experienced competition in game situations. There was no competition within my team, and my roster spot and playing time was always guaranteed. Now I am surrounded by my competition all day, every day which drives me in a way I haven’t previously experienced.

You see, it’s not that people don’t try hard. A person may think they are giving everything they’ve got without knowing what is truly possible. This applies to anything in life. You may think you squat with intensity until you see somebody load 200lbs more than you on the bar, stagger into position and lift a weight, eyes and neck veins bulging that you wouldn’t have dared unrack, much less squat.

This is what true intensity looks like

You may think your 3,000 calories is as much as you can handle until you realize the guy next to you has managed to squeeze almost 5,000 calories into the same timeframe. The college training environment opens up a new world of potential and possibility. It causes mental barriers to crumble and helps to accelerate progress in the weight room and on the field.

“I eat a lot, I swear!”

What can high school players (or anyone) do to tap into some of these gains without actually being on a collegiate team? Assuming you already have a pretty solid understanding of the basics (programming, technique, nutrition, routine, etc.) here are a couple tips for accelerating your progress.

1.  Find at least one motivated training partner

This can be one of the hardest things to find, but one of the most valuable for your training. Find a way to make it happen. Ideally you find someone who is at or above your level. A training partner improves routine and consistency (you can’t skip a workout even if you want to because you’d be letting your buddy down) and adds some competition, which enhances intensity, energy and enthusiasm.

2. Only compare yourself to those at or above your level

If you’re in high school, chances are you don’t have the luxury of being surrounded by strong individuals, but the absolute last thing you can do is become content with your 225lb squat because nobody else in the gym can do more than 135lbs. We compare ourselves subconsciously to everyone around us, so it may take a dedicated effort to zone out those weak individuals around you and keep reminding yourself of players who are where you want to be. Satisfaction destroys progress. For example, I recently achieved my longtime goal of 210lbs bodyweight and made the mistake of being satisfied and feeling content. The result? My gains have ground to a stop in the past week or two and I’ve drifted away from the very mindset that got me this far in the first place.

How is this related to the article? Does it matter?

3.  Compete in everything you do.

This is what makes having a training partner so valuable, but there are plenty of people who have training partners and don’t compete with them. This doesn’t necessarily mean compete to see who can squat more weight that day. Training partners are rarely following the exact same routines or have the exact same strength levels. However, you can undoubtedly find ways to work competition into your training, especially in areas where you would otherwise struggle. For example, nutrition has always been my weak link. More specifically, my lifting progress almost always mirrors my caloric intake and how closely I’ve been sticking to my meal plan. This fall I chose two other players with similar goals and body types and we decided to compete to see who could gain 10 lbs first. This kind of competition is a win-win because it pushes everyone involved, even the losers, to work harder than they would have otherwise.

Conclusion:

There you have it: an explanation of why getting big and strong seems so much easier in a collegiate training environment, and three ways that you can start to tap into some of these freakish gains even if you’re still in high school.

**Ben Brewster is a college freshman at UMD and a friend of mine, one who has truly come to understand what pushing hard, training smart, and maximizing potential is all about. If he isn’t a Major Leaguer 5 or 10 years from now, you’ll likely find him revolutionizing the strength training industry.**  -Dan

I scream. Lights dance in my eyes with each step, and in this moment of primal agony I am propelled by just one thought: onward. My pounding legs nearly falter as another frenzied wave of fire courses through my legs – and then it’s all over. The tire sled skids to a stop. Clenched hands release as the metal links clatter dully on the concrete, my body following suit just moments later.
“12-6,” I hear the stopwatch reading from somewhere in the distance. “That’s your best so far!” A playful grin flits across my features and, making a valiant attempt to rise, my knees buckle and I’m once again face-to-face with the ground. Rolling over to peel the gloves from my skin I notice one of them is damp with blood, exposing a glistening gash where the chains I’d been grasping had eaten through the fabric. Get up, I tell myself harshly, Get up! Struggling to my feet, I remind myself at least it’s not your pitching hand, and with that reassuring thought I grasp the chains once more, gritting my teeth for the fourth and final set of sled drags.
People sometimes ask me why I put myself through this kind of “torture.” Do you want the truth? – Fear. There it is: I’m afraid, afraid of mediocrity. Some would call me naïve or unrealistic to think that my efforts are worthwhile – and in a sense they might be right. My efforts may ultimately amount to nothing concrete or tangible. I hear this sentiment from my critics and I am disgusted, not because it lacks validity, but because I shudder at the alternative: living with the sickening feeling that I knowingly accepted mediocrity in something I loved.
It’s freshman year again, and I’ve been given the first start of my varsity baseball career. Aside from a few butterflies, I’m confident in my ability. Striding up to the mound I bend over and pluck the ball up with my left hand, trying to tune out everything around me. Eight warm-up throws later I’m in the zone, the natural motion I’d practiced from childhood taking control. I use every weapon in my arsenal – I continually pound the strike zone, but something unusual and terrifying happens to me that has never happened before – my efforts are futile, as each successive batter hammers the ball back at me again and again. I’m doing everything right, and yet, I’ve never tasted failure like this before. The sense of inadequateness sickens me, and I vow to come back the following year a changed player.
From that moment, high school has been about testing my boundaries and pushing the limits of what others arbitrarily define as “possible.” Indeed, though I returned the following season to an All-Conference performance, I was still unsatisfied, still afraid that at some point, at some level in the game I may return to the feeling of mediocrity that I felt my freshman year. This pursuit has inevitably carried over to other areas of my life. Academically, I am unwilling to settle for anything less than what I know I am capable of. Now, rather than apply myself in class for my parents and teachers, I do so for myself. I’ve harnessed the fear that my freshman baseball season spawned; I’ve struggled to overcome it, and, in the process, I’ve learned to ignore boundaries, scoff at predetermined limitations and push myself beyond what I’d ever thought possible.

Now that you’ve finished reading my college application essay, post your comments below. Why do you train?

The most important strategy for me is to get cocky. I’m normally a pretty laid back guy, but when it comes to baseball, and especially pitching, I become arrogant, and an a-hole, kind of like these guys:

Seriously though, I get it, not all pitchers have the same style. A finesse pitcher like Maddux is not going to be trying to blow his fastball by hitters the same way a power pitcher like Zumaya would. But they both have confidence in their stuff, and approach each batter with the mindset that they will get him out.

But all I need to do is execute my pitches. True, you need to execute your pitches, but this is much more difficult when you aren’t convinced that by executing this pitch you are going to be successful. Doubts about the batter, the other team’s jeering dugout and the umpire need to be eliminated. You can’t control what the batter does with the pitch, or what the umpire’s call is, or what the other team is yelling at you.  You have to believe that you are going to succeed if you control everything that is within your control. If you don’t trust your stuff, you are going to have a hell of a time getting batters out. You will hesitate to throw that 3-2 offspeed, or be afraid to come high and inside with a fastball – or whatever else the game situation dictates.

For example, even if I’m facing the top hitter in the league, I genuinely convince myself that he doesn’t stand a chance of touching me. I have to trust in my abilities, my pitches and my preparation in order to succeed.

This guy is a poser. He’s competing on the same field as me pretending to want this at bat, this game, this season as much as I do. Screw that, what the hell was he doing last offseason to prepare for this moment? I bet you he didn’t spend his Thanksgiving or Christmas days training at the school playground with a weight vest and a medicine ball because the weight room was closed. And here he is in the batter’s box pretending to want it as much as I do? He might as well sit back down right now.

nothing wrong with a little death stare...just the pinstripes

I take each batter personally. I want to them to dread walking to the plate to face me. And when a hitter does inevitably get a hit off of me, I tell myself that it’s not because he’s better than me, or that my abilities fell short, but rather, that I had a momentary lapse in concentration and I’ll get him the next time.

Remember, you don’t have to throw perfect games to tell yourself that you’re going to throw a perfect game. Indeed, I am disappointed in myself if I walk just one batter or let up one hit. Of course these things are going to happen, but by setting the bar high, having confidence in my preparation and abilities, and treating each batter as a mini battle to be won, I have seen huge success – and you will too.

I was scratching my head at this point. That’s a BAD thing? You see, every high level thrower (yes, this includes outfielders and anyone else who throws at least mid 90s) that I have ever seen, not to mention nearly all amateur players as well (to varying degrees) exhibit this mechanical trait. But I’m getting ahead of myself. Let me first present you with the definition of “reverse forearm bounce” that the website provided, and explain why it was called a “flaw.”

Logan Verrett

Reportedly coined by Mike Marshall, this “bounce” refers to “the downward motion of the pitching forearm caused by the inertial mass of the ball, pitching hand, and pitching forearm.”

That is, the “forearm layback” that every high level thrower exhibits. I’m not really sure how many examples I need to supply our readers with to prove this point, so I’ll just include some synchronized clips of a diverse assortment of both active and retired high level throwers (some have been flipped to appear as lefties). These throwers range in peak velocity from mid 90s to in excess of 100 mph.

**Note that I did not use photos as evidence for my claim. Although photos are far better than nothing, and in this specific case may have sufficed, when it comes to illustrating a point that has to do with mechanics, photos can be taken way out of context. For example, a player reaches landing position with their hips open, shoulders closed, throwing arm vertical – the classic “high cocked” position…but how did they get to that position? Unless you have a very trained eye, it can be hard to tell much from just a photo of a player at landing position unless you know how to look for subtle cues that give away how they got there (elbows pinched back, back foot turned over, etc.) So to better make a point when it comes to mechanics, do yourself a favor and learn to use clips to illustrate this kind of thing (maybe this will be the topic of a future post if there is sufficient interest).**
So what reasons did the website give as to why “Reverse forearm bounce” was a flaw? And, additionally, is this something that can (or should) be fixed, or is it just an inherent, albeit stressful, part of throwing hard?

This particular website cites various studies showing that the more extreme the “bounce” and the closer the throwing elbow is flexed to 90, the greater the stress will be on the UCL. Is this true? Yes, I have no reason to doubt the studies – in fact, I would have been surprised if this was not what the studies had concluded. My point though, is that high level throwing is inherently stressful on shoulder and elbow – this is apparent from looking at ANY 95 mph thrower, noting the elbow flexed to 90 degrees during acceleration, and the ridiculous amount of external rotation (near 180 degrees) at the glenohumeral joint. To go a step further, I’m asserting that the very mechanical traits that allow a player to hit such high velocities are the same traits that place the most stress on the throwing arm. That is, the “bounce” is necessary because it

1.    increases the range of motion over which force is applied to the baseball.

If we’re trying to maximize velocity (v= distance traveled/time) then one way to do it is increasing distance traveled over which force is applied to the ball while holding time constant. Thus, a player with a full 180 degrees of external rotation is going to throw harder than a player with 160 degrees of ER if all other variables are held constant.

2.    increases the reflexive action and thus strengthens the following concentric contraction of the internal rotators of the shoulder due to the Stretch Shortening Cycle.

The SSC basically says that when you eccentrically lengthen a muscle under tension (in this case all the internal rotators) it will store elastic energy (like a rubber band) which can then be used to strengthen the following concentric contraction. The quicker and more powerful the “Stretch” the more powerful the resulting contraction has the potential to be (provided all of it can be harnessed).

What though, is the significance of this conclusion? What should you do with this knowledge? Should you stunt your potential as a pitcher by focusing solely on reducing the stress to your UCL? (see marshall video) That depends on your goal. If you’re attempting to reach the highest levels of the game, it’s pretty much a given that you need a good fastball. Like it or not, scouts don’t care about 85 mph fastballs unless you’re absolutely flawless in every other aspect of your performance. Even Greg Maddux had a low 90s heater out of high school…without it he may not have ever been given a shot at professional ball. If, however, you just want to have fun, allegedly improve your chances of staying healthy and in all likelihood not make it past high school ball then by all means, reduce your “reverse forearm bounce,” stop trying to throw hard and follow the advice of this scouting report and of Dr. Marshall (see video). Otherwise, keep throwing the crap out of the ball, making sure to manage as best as possible the inherent risk that accompanies these throws. Guys like Eric Cressey have figured this part out pretty damn well.

Dr. Marshall showing how to allegedly reduce UCL wear and tear while simultaneously stunting velocity:

Marshall

I don’t even know where to start on this video, so I’ll leave it to you to decide what to make of it for now. I look forward to hearing your comments and opinions!

In my last post, I talked about the deliberate practice principles laid out in the book Talent is Overrated by Geoff Colvin.

To refresh, deliberate practice involves

• Working on a specific aspect of performance
• High repetition
• Continuously available feedback
• Highly demanding mentally
• Isn’t (usually) much fun

In this post I’m going to talk mainly about the third piece of the puzzle, focusing primarily on how it relates to improving throwing mechanics and velocity.

Feedback and throwing mechanics:

To start, you’re probably wondering why “throwing mechanics” and not “pitching mechanics.” Paul Nyman of SETPRO was the first to make the clear distinction between these two activities. Pitching is about doing everything you can do get the batter out, whereas throwing refers to the specific movement patterns/sequences that your body goes through to apply force to the ball. When you hear people talking about posting leg position or hand break timing or whatever, what they are really referring to is a player’s throwing mechanics.

Feedback is particularly under-appreciated when it comes to players and velocity development. When was the last time your pitching coach brought a radar gun to your team’s bullpen sessions? I can tell you that, in my experience, at the high school level and below this form of feedback is almost nonexistent.

So how do you make sure that you’re applying the continuous feedback principle and aren’t wasting your practice time on empty repetitions? Here are a couple ideas…

Max effort long toss

This form of throw training has built in feedback, in that you can see how far the ball traveled as compared to your previous best of the day, week, month or year.

How to perform max effort long toss? You basically slowly work out to your max distance for the day ramping up the intensity, and then work your way back in to 60 feet or so, keeping the same intensity that your furthest throw had, constantly listening to your arm and stopping if anything doesn’t feel right. Check out Alan Jaeger’s videos for an example of what this type of training looks like:

Max effort throwing with radar gun

This form of throw training is particularly effective for pitchers working on velocity from the mound or those who are unable to long toss out to max distance for whatever reason. It’s astounding how many coaches will tell you “the velocity will come, don’t worry about it.” By not measuring velocity, they are giving their players an out. They are not holding their players accountable for their performance, and more importantly they are not providing players with adequate feedback to judge their performance. Few pitchers can actually differentiate between the feel of an 82 and an 85 mph fastball…and it is precisely these fine fluctuations that need to be identified immediately by radar feedback to reproduce similar performance. The player throws a pitch at 83 and the next pitch at 85. Hey! I wonder what I did differently on that throw than the previous one. That was more efficient; let me try to repeat that!! With radar feedback, the player not only learns how to apply more effort (keyword: intent) into their throws, but also learns how small variations in mechanics affect the end velocity. Without radar, 83 feels like 85 and your hope of gaining velocity (not counting strength gains) is severely compromised.

Other ideas for incorporating feedback into your throwing or pitching work:

Control: obviously, if a pitcher is throwing to a catcher they will be able to see the location of each pitch almost instantly. But consider upping the ante a bit in your control sessions. Record balls and strikes, taking a break every 12 or so pitches (roughly how many you aim to throw in an inning). Set goals for yourself; try to get at least 8 out of the 12 in the location you wanted. Take a break in between “innings” and make adjustments where necessary. Keep records of your progress and try to match or beat your previous best with each session.

Control + Velocity: as above, but try to hit a set minimum velocity for each pitch. You don’t want to teach yourself to baby the ball into the zone to get a strike. Learn to merge your control sessions with your all-out velocity sessions.

Mechanics: if you’re trying to pinpoint a specific mechanical flaw in your delivery and develop a plan of attack, don’t hesitate to get out the video camera. Ideally you want a video camera that allows you to easily go through your throws frame by frame every 3-5 throws to gauge progress. It’s slow and grueling, but if you’re looking to alter something mechanically, going by “feel” is not always the best option. An alternative that may be used depending on the situation is a mirror. I do some of my throwing into a net from a short distance away (10-15 feet). Setting up a large mirror behind the net that allows me to view my entire body head to toe throughout the delivery is a method that, when used carefully, has helped me make certain mechanical changes. This specific kind of direct feedback (which occurs during the movement) can be dangerous though because it poses the risk of dependency.

If you have the luxury of a qualified throwing mechanics expert monitoring your sessions, this is another valuable form of feedback, although even the best are not humanly capable of picking up on the minute details that video can. For example, the difference between fanning the shoulders open at landing vs. keeping the shoulders closed can be a difference in timing of as little as 2 frames on video, or under 1/10 of a second. Also, as a player, being able to see your faults on video gives you a much better idea of what you need to work on than just hearing it from an instructor or even having them demonstrate it for you.

Numerous other methods exist for how to apply feedback to your throwing, but since I’m not familiar with them all (and obviously don’t have room to address them all) I’ll make some general comments about these methods, which may include things like towel drills, marking landing spot on the mound with tape, wall drills, etc. My feeling is that these drills or methods should be designed based on a solid knowledge of elite level throwing mechanics and should be as specific as possible to this process from a motor learning standpoint without ingraining improper movement patterns.

For example, a drill in which you’re looking down at the ground the entire time to try to work on where your front foot lands is going to have little transfer to the mound when you’re looking at a target. A towel drill performed to encourage a linear follow-through (primarily trunk flexion) as opposed to a rotational follow-through may also have poor (and potentially negative) transfer if done with enough repetitions to ingrain the movement, as might a slow-motion arm action drill that encourages keeping the elbows in a line as opposed to allowing the scapula to pinch and take the elbows behind the line of the shoulders. Always ask the question: why am I doing this drill? And does this reflect what elite throwers do?

As always, feel free to post questions or comments below. My email is bbrewster51@gmail.com

After hearing rave reviews about Geoff Colvin’s book “Talent is Overrated,” I decided to give it a read. For me, it absolutely lived up to the hype. Colvin lays out a solid, clearly organized argument for why the widely accepted concept of “talent” is flawed, and proceeds to illuminate the topic of what really distinguishes the greats from everybody else. By detailing the path to greatness, Colvin forces the reader to come to terms with his or her own performance. It’s an eye-opening read, but I’ll do my best to summarize the author’s argument here and, where possible, tie it back into baseball and training (this will likely be a separate article).

“Talent” here refers to the “natural ability to do something [specific] better than most people can do it…it is innate; you’re born with it, and if you’re not born with it, you can’t acquire it.”

Without further ado, here is the basic outline of Colvin’s book, as I interpreted it.

People are mediocre

Most people are just ok at what they do for a living, despite devoting huge amounts of time and energy in preparation for their career. Furthermore, research shows that most people aren’t even getting better/more efficient at their jobs with experience. Writes Colvin, “we tell our kids that with hard work, they’ll be fine. And it’s true. They will be fine.”

People assume that great performers have:

1. A “natural gift”

While this could be argued for some physical characteristics (Phelps wouldn’t be as fast if he didn’t have a 6’8” wingspan and massive hands + feet) the book does not consider physical attributes to be the same thing as a “natural gift.” This is likely because Colvin does not consider physical attributes to be domain specific. That is, Phelps was not born a talented swimmer; he just had physical attributes that happened to lend themselves to the sport.

A common assumption while on the topic of “natural gifts” is that, in many fields, elite performers must be “smarter” or have superior memories than their average counterparts. Colvin demonstrates that IQ tests are poor indicators of high achievement, and, furthermore, that remarkable memory is almost always created (and domain specific), not inherent. Furthermore, the “natural gift” explanation is convenient because it helps us come to terms with our own performance.

2. Worked hard to get to the top

This is (mostly) true. All great performers have worked substantially harder than almost anyone in their given field. There is a strong correlation, through research, between amount of practice and proficiency/expertise. Colvin gives an example of a study:

There were two groups of music students. One was considered elite, the other simply good. What separated them was how much they had practiced. But it still took them the same amount of practice to reach certain checkpoints (grade 5 for example). They weren’t more “talented” as we might think, they had just practiced more. Writes Colvin, “Ambitious parents who are currently playing the ‘baby Mozart’ video for their toddlers may be disappointed to learn that Mozart became Mozart by working furiously hard.” But this does not tell the whole story. While those at the top certainly worked hard, it doesn’t always work in reverse. Hard work alone doesn’t guarantee success. So then, what does, if anything?

Deliberate Practice

Colvin explains that what researchers call “deliberate practice” correlates most strongly with great performance. He cites research in which three otherwise similar groups of aspiring professional violinists were analyzed. They were divided into good, better and best. Each group had been studying violin for 10+ years, and each spent about 51 hours a week on musical activities. They all ranked practicing by themselves as the activity that was most important for making them better. But the two top groups spent 24 hours weekly actually doing it (as opposed to 9 hours in the “good” group). The conclusion? The quality and type of practice is crucial, not just total accumulated hours (although this was what separated the best group from the better group).

Colvin describes how most “practice:”

“When I practice golf, I go to the driving range and get two big buckets of balls…I hit quite a few bad shots. My usual reaction is to hit another ball as quickly as possible in hopes that it will be a decent shot, and then I can forget about the bad one.

Occasionally, I stop to think about why the shot was bad. There seem to be about five thousand thins you can do wrong when hitting a golf ball, so I pick one of them and work on it a bit, convincing myself that I can sense improvement…I then work on another one of the five thousand things…Not long thereafter I head back to the clubhouse, very much looking forward to playing an actual game of golf, and feeling virtuous for having practiced.”

Does this sound familiar? I know to me it does, and is, in essence, how I practiced my pitching up until a couple years ago (more on this later).

The Components of Deliberate Practice

Deliberate practice is: “activity designed specifically to improve performance, often with a teacher’s help; it can be repeated a lot; feedback on results is continuously available; it’s highly demanding mentally, whether the activity is purely intellectual…or heavily physical…; and it isn’t much fun.”

Let’s take a closer look at each of these pieces.

Designed specifically to improve performance, often with a teacher’s help

Practice needs to be designed with the intent to work on “sharply defined elements of performance that need to be improved.” Identifying these elements of performance that need improvement and knowing how to go about improving them can be difficult, especially in youth, making the presence of a knowledgeable teacher or mentor who is qualified to design practice even more crucial. Colvin cites Tiger Woods as an example of someone who realizes the importance of working on specific elements of performance: “…Woods has been seen to drop golf balls into a sand trap and step on them, then practice shots from that near-impossible lie.”

Choosing which activities to practice is an important skill to have, especially when a teacher is not available. Activities fall in one of three categories: comfort zone, learning zone and panic zone (represented below). The learning zone is the only zone in which progress can be made – these skills and abilities are just out of reach. The comfort zone consists of activities which we have already mastered, while the panic zone activities are so difficult that we don’t even know how to approach them. Great performers refuse to allow their performance to become automatic. By continually engaging in deliberate practice – which is doing those things that are outside the comfort zone, automaticity is impossible. “Ultimately the performance is always conscious and controlled, not automatic…[this] is another way of saying that great performers are always getting better.”

Repetition:

Effective practice involves high repetition…but you already knew that.

Continuously available feedback:

This one is huge. If you can’t see the effects of your practice –where you err and how you’re progressing- you won’t get much better, and you’ll stop caring. We’ll re-visit this topic later as it can be applied to baseball training.

Is highly demanding mentally

Seeking out those areas of performance that are in need of improvement and then working as hard as one can to fix the problem is extremely mentally taxing. As a pitcher, the limiting factor in many of my throwing sessions is not my body, but generally my ability to sustain concentration. When I lose that crisp mental image of what I want my mechanics to look like, I begin to revert back to whatever mechanical flaw I was trying to fix, and repetitions suddenly become unproductive. This category ties into the next facet of deliberate practice.

It isn’t (usually) much fun

Colvin explains: “Instead of doing what we’re good at, we insistently seek out what we’re not good at. Then we identify the painful, difficult activities that will make us better and do those things over and over. After each repetition, we force ourselves to see- or get others to tell us – exactly what still isn’t right so we can repeat the most painful and difficult parts of what we’ve just done. We continue the process until we’re mentally exhausted.”

If deliberate practice was fun though, he notes, everybody would do it and everybody would be great at what they pursued. But it’s not and they don’t, giving each of us even more of an opportunity to rise above the rest.

What else distinguishes great performers?

The ten-year rule

Colvin cites the phenomenon that was first used to describe chess players but that has been observed in a wide variety of fields since: that becoming truly great – world class – in a given field requires, almost without exception, at least 10 years of intensive study and (deliberate) practice.  “If talent means that success is easy or rapid, as most people seem to believe,” Colvin argues, “then something is obviously wrong with a talent-based explanation of high-achievement.”

The best keep getting better

This was touched on earlier. Colvin shows how, in a variety of fields, the best don’t stop improving over time as we might assume. The best musicians, authors and scientists keep improving over time, producing their best works late in their careers.

They’re “lucky”

A person’s circumstances, namely in childhood, can affect his/her ability to perform and accumulate deliberate practice. Says Colvin: “we may say that Tiger Woods is a textbook illustration of the deliberate practice principles, but we could also say that he was breathtakingly lucky to be introduced to them. In this sense, it’s perfectly fair to say that the real reason you’ll never be Tiger Woods is that your father wasn’t Earl Woods.”

We may be too far behind to achieve world-class greatness like Tiger’s in a given field, but that doesn’t nullify the deliberate practice principles. By applying them, most of us are still capable of reaching a level of expertise far beyond what we may have ever thought possible.

They perceive more

Studies of amateur tennis players show how they react to a serve by visually tracking where the ball is going…but these players are not efficient enough to react to elite serving speeds. Elite

If you want to return her serves, you better look at the hips.

tennis players can judge where the ball will be hit by looking instead at opponent’s hips, shoulders and arms. Amateur jugglers, similarly, try to follow the path of each ball with their eyes, while better jugglers can judge where the ball will be going just from the apex of each ball’s trajectory. These performers are fundamentally different from their amateur counterparts, but they got that way through a high volume of deliberate practice, not “talent.”

They know more

Colvin cites research indicating that elite performers have very extensive knowledge in their domain, and by studying for years have developed ways of organizing that knowledge by connecting it to higher-level principles to make it useful. For example, a top strength coach might see a new exercise and, instead of identifying it as an isolated case, he is able to precisely categorize the exercise: no that’s not just a specific lower body exercise, that’s a unilateral reactive exercise. The elite performer is also able to remember more and recall it faster, because his/her knowledge is well organized as a result of intensive study. Colvin asserts again that none of this is innate, as the concept of “talent” would suggest.

They self-regulate

Short-term goals: The best performers set goals that are focused on the process of reaching the outcome, not the outcome. Instead of focusing on that perfect game you are going to throw, focus on what you are going to do to get there. What are you going to do, TODAY, to get one step closer to that outcome?

Self-Observation: elite performers are able to judge how well they are doing during performance and make necessary adjustments through constant self-monitoring.

Critical Assessment: top performers hold themselves to high standards and don’t dismiss their failures. They believe that they are responsible for their errors and are able to learn from them, while average performers often blame factors outside of their control.

Reaction to failure: Colvin explains how elite performers adapt their performance when faced with failure, whereas average performers tend to avoid the kinds of situations that led to that failure in the future.

Conclusion

Some books have a happy ending that is promptly forgotten, others leave a bitter taste in your mouth. The best conclusions, in my view, are those that force you to think, to re-examine yourself or the way you perceive the world. Colvin’s conclusion slaps you in the face with the cold, hard facts, allowing you to decide for yourself what to believe.

“The evidence offers no easy assurances,” he writes. “It shows that the price of top-level achievement is extraordinarily high…but the evidence shows also that by understanding how a few become great, anyone can become better. Above all, what the evidence shouts most loudly is striking, liberating news: that great performance is not reserved for a preordained few. It is available to you and everyone.”

Before you go, and I apologize for the length of this article, I ask that you go back over the information covered and commit yourself to applying one of these principles to your own performance. Maybe you’ll commit to setting short term goals instead of “going with the flow,” or making sure your training focuses on specific aspects of performance. Thanks again for sitting through this and be sure to leave any comments or questions below.

You’re trying to gain weight. You train hard for one hour 3-4 times a week, you’re getting adequate sleep and recovery, and you don’t have a glaring muscle imbalance that is holding you back. You eat when you’re hungry (sometimes more often), and don’t stop until you’re full. And yet, you still can’t pack any muscle onto your skinny frame. You’ve only achieved modest gains in the weight room and chalked up huge gains only to those who have “freaky” genetics. If this sounds like you, listen up. Here’s a tip that helped me gain 10 lbs of muscle in 7 weeks, up to 193lbs from 183lbs, after spending the previous 4 months working to make similar gains.

Track your nutrition.

I’m going to assume you already eat clean, more or less. I’m going to take that leap that you never touch fast food and soda, and that you work on maintaining a high-protein diet with plenty of healthy fats, including lean meat, fruits, veggies and nuts. Let’s assume you have the quality of the food covered, but you still aren’t making great gains in the gym. Let’s talk about quantity. You think you’re eating enough to gain weight. You are rarely hungry.

You’re wrong.

Now, I’m no expert nutritionist, but everything in my experience indicates the body wants nothing more than to maintain homeostasis. This is a fancy way of saying that to stimulate new growth you must push your body beyond what it feels comfortable with. Yeah, I know this already, you’re thinking. Maybe so, but as you think about finishing that last gulp of protein shake or saving it for later, your body is going to be fighting you every step of the way trying to tell you that you’re full. My point:

It is remarkably easy to trick yourself into thinking you’re getting sufficient calories.

Back to my story. I had done my research and knew I should be getting at least 4,000 calories a day, but never took the time to write down everything I ate throughout the day or add up my average total caloric intake. I did this, finally, and it turns out I was missing the mark from 750 – 1250 calories each day! Granted, I don’t always know exactly how many calories I consumed on any given day, but at least now I know within a few hundred.

Again, I’m no nutritionist, but another benefit I’ve noticed is that my already quick metabolism seems to have shot through the roof! After a couple weeks of this, I began to feel hungry much faster, even though I was eating far more than I used to! My gut tells me that this is part of the reason I have not gained any visible fat.

Here’s roughly what I eat every day, though it varies a bit. I know it’s not perfect, but it’s what I‘ve come up with given my current circumstances.

Breakfast:
Chicken Omelet: 540/52
Cup Milk: 110/8
TOTAL: 650cal/60g protein

Morning Snack:
Peanut Butter Sandwich: 420/16
2 small handfuls cashews (2 oz): 320/8
TOTAL: 740/24

Lunch:
Chicken, 6 oz: 275/50
Yogurt: 170/5
1 cup OJ: 110/2
Sweet Potato: 80/2
TOTAL: 635/59

Post-Workout Meal:
2 scoops EAS Whey Protein: 240/46
Peanut Butter Sandwich: 420/16
TOTAL: 660/62

Dinner: Varies 600-900 calories, >40 grams protein
TOTAL: 600-900/30+

Post-Dinner Snack:
Super Mass Shake: 750/48
(1/3 cup oats, 1 cup milk, 1 tbsp olive oil, 2 tbsp peanut butter, 1 scoop whey)
TOTAL: 750/48

Pre-Bedtime Snack:
Cup Milk: 110/8
2 Flameout Caps: 25/0
1.4 Cup Cottage Cheese: 50/7
TOTAL: 185/15

NEW TOTAL: 4220-4520 Calories/298g protein

In conclusion, you really need to have a general idea of what your caloric intake is every day. I’m not asking you to painstakingly record every meal, but a general idea and plan to follow is huge when it comes to pushing your body out of its comfort zone and spawning new muscle growth.