QB Lessons in Mckinney in Dallas will teach you about Mental Reps

​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 what's 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. Dante's 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 gassers. Pure garbage. Paraded out in front of the team like a craigslist's 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 squeegee. 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. 

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