„Mă simt ca o rachetă de tenis la care ai schimbat grip-ul de patru ori și acordajul de șapte ori: putem să mai spunem că e ACEEAȘI rachetă de tenis? Undeva în ochii ăștia, în oglindă, îl mai pot zări, foarte vag, pe băiatul care nu a vrut niciodată să joace tenis, pe băiatul care voia să renunțe la tot, care a și renunțat de atâtea ori. Îl văd pe acel băiat blonduț care detesta tenisul și mă întreb ce ar zice el despre acest bărbat chel, care încă urăște tenisul, dar încă joacă? Ar fi șocat? Amuzat? Mândru? Dă Doamne să se termine totul odată. Doar că nu sunt pregătit să se termine totul
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Gil likes to yell at me when I'm working out, but it's nothing like my father's yelling. Gil yells love. If I'm trying to set a new personal best, if I'm preparing to lift more than I've ever lifted, he stands in the background and yells, Come on, Andre! Let's go! Big Thunder! His yelling makes my heart club against my ribs. Then, for an added dash of inspiration, he'll sometimes tell me to step aside, and he'll lift his personal best- 550 lbs. It's an awesome sight to see a man put up that much iron above his chest, and it always make me think that anything is possible. How beautiful to dream. But dreams, I tell Gill, in one of our quiet moments, are so dam tiring.
He laughs.
I can't promise you that you won't be tired, he says. But please know this. There's a lot of good waiting for you on the other side of tired. Get yourself tired, Andre. That's where you're going to know yourself. On the other side of tired. p155