Death Clutch - Brock Lesnar [2]
I won’t lie. Being the center of attention had its perks. But it wasn’t all good. I felt the pressure to succeed, too. What set me apart is that I accepted all challenges.
At a very young age I developed an inner confidence that I still have today. I don’t know if it’s ego, attitude, arrogance, or something else. But whatever it is, it works for me.
I think my self-confidence is why, for as long as I can remember, I’ve been the backbone of my family. I am comfortable being the go-to guy. The one people depend on. The one in control. It’s always been that way for me. I still try to take care of my mom and dad, and I will always try to make sure the rest of my family is taken care of. That’s just who I am. It’s up to me, and I look out for the people I love.
At the same time, I know my limitations. I know I’m not perfect. I know what I know, but more importantly, I know what I don’t know. When I don’t know something, I surround myself with people I can trust to teach me.
How many times have you seen an athlete who is his own worst enemy? He can’t leave his ego at the door when he walks into the gym or onto the playing field. Nobody can tell him anything. I never had that problem. Every coach I’ve ever had, from kindergarten to college to my current MMA coaching team, will agree: I am coachable.
I know to this day that it’s so important to have the right coaches around you. A great athlete needs coaches that can see mistakes, work on imperfections, point out what sometimes is the obvious, and motivate. Athletes are too close to the competition, and don’t always see things that a coach may see clear as day.
I have been very fortunate to have had great coaches, from my youth and high school coach, John Schiley, to my junior college coach, Robert Finneseth, and my University of Minnesota and current professional coach, Marty Morgan. Those two, in particular, deserve a lot of credit.
The same way my mom made sure that I learned from my mistakes, the nature of the sport of wrestling really brought that lesson home. In wrestling, you can win a tournament one day, and the very next day you might be taken down in the practice room by a B-squadder or a guy who is at the weight below you. That’s why wrestling is such a humbling sport, and why it reinforced the same lessons my mom kept teaching me over and over again.
Every day with my parents, and in the gym, was a constant reminder. I’m not perfect. I can always make a mistake. One mistake is all it takes. One, simple, stupid, momentary lapse (like the mental mistake I made in my UFC debut against Frank Mir) is all it takes to go from “champion” to “loser.” As soon as you start to think you are too good, that you just can’t slip up, someone will always be there to show you the error of your ways.
But I had my mom and dad, and they were behind me all the way. If it weren’t for their belief in me, and the sacrifices they made, you would not be reading this book. They are my biggest fans, and I am theirs.
WRESTLING WITH MY FUTURE
Farming is the life I enjoy, and the one I look forward to most when my fight is over. I farm now because I choose to—not because it’s all I know. I’m not stuck on my farm. I want to be here. But it wasn’t always that way.
When I was a junior in high school, I wanted a future that included something more than milking cows and sitting on tractors. It just happened that as I was thinking about how to get off the farm, a National Guard recruiter showed up at my school. My dad was in the Guard, so I didn’t think he’d mind if I signed up. As a matter of fact, I didn’t even ask him; I had my mom co-sign for me.
Here I was, seventeen years old, on my way to Fort Leonardwood, Missouri. Let me say this for the record, so that everyone who is reading this can understand something. The nine weeks I spent in the National Guard that summer changed my life. I came back home a totally different person, and all for