No Plan B: The Indomitable Spirit of a Born Competitor Volume VII

Tiger Woods displayed his skills as a 2-year-old on the Mike Douglas Show, a prominent program in the ’70s, indicating to the world that this child was destined for greatness. Kobe Bryant, whose father played in the NBA, grew up isolated in Italy, the only black child in his area. With family members sending him tape-recorded basketball games, he had nothing but the sport to focus on, establishing from an early age that there would be no plan B. These stories are foundational to the rich legacies these two respective legends built throughout their athletic careers.

Some people are simply born to do it. As someone who never fit in, never sought attention, didn’t attend a prestigious university, or chased high-profile jobs, I remain virtually unknown at 31 years old, having already lived two full lives with the experience I have accumulated. I believe the fact that the world doesn’t know my name is the best thing I have going for me. Why? Because fame is a drug, highly addictive, and even worse when you have never been exposed to the spotlight. I know what it means to shine; I was an all-state high school athlete, excelled in the classroom, spoke in front of large groups, led sports teams and companies, and was compensated well. While not a stranger to the limelight, I have never really done so on a broad scale, perhaps on a national level. However, through proximity to peers, friends, family members, and stories from acquaintances, I quickly recognized that the biggest threat to your future success is your current success. If you were a broken soul before the money, it will only tear you down even more.

I knew sports were my calling from a very young age, blessed with some god-given athletic ability but standing at barely 5’6". Despite countless years of training, the odds were never in my favor. Nonetheless, I had a trainer at 15, was training full-time with an NHL player by 17, held over five internships in gyms before 20, became a certified strength & conditioning specialist at 22, and was training professional athletes. I was a college football coach by 23, the head coach of a team at 24, had an MBA at 25, was a finalist for an NFL position at 26, and ran a wellness center at 27. Proximity played a key role in my journey.

At JUCO, my team had a handful of guys in NFL camps, and about half a dozen who didn’t make it to their 21st birthday. We won a bowl game; I was a role player at best but was a good teammate, a coach on the field, and had a strong presence in the locker room. I earned the right to wear #1 back when that meant something, and I didn’t even start. I attended Natick High School, the home of Doug Flutie, a Heisman Trophy and football legend. My high school head coach not only coached Flutie but is a top-five leader in Massachusetts state history in wins and is in the state athletic hall of fame, a tremendous mentor to me. The last thing that stands out is my dad’s role as a drill sergeant. I never wanted to be like him, but he has an aura and command, especially when he’s in his space. He looks sharp in uniform and has a deep care for helping people find their path, instilling discipline but being the ultimate laissez-faire type of leader who could meet people where they are and play ball with them. He would give a homeless man his last dollar and, for better or worse, always remain himself.

This is only half of it, but this exposure and experience accumulated make up the sum of one’s life. Growing up glued to ESPN, reading books on black history, or being born in the 90s old enough to remember beepers, Walkmans, and MySpace, but young enough to have spent more than half my life with advanced technology like the iPhone and social media. I am an early user of Facebook, not sure if that means I am just getting old. My mom and uncle had me audition for a Nickelodeon show when I was 5 years old. I remember feeling like the energy in the room was off; I was being evaluated, which I was. But at that age, when it’s evident, I have always been intuitive enough to pick up on it, I was simply not with the shits. I decided not to talk and went mute, perhaps as an act of rebellion, but being a childhood actor was not in the plans. I was once offered the opportunity to model. I met a girl outside a club who recruited me; I went to a photoshoot, did a walk down a runway, blah, blah, blah. I got called back, and at the time, I was still focused on being a football coach. I knew there were a lot of politics involved and felt like if I got my voice and my platform, I would lose credibility. I would be like the rest of them.

I am not a man of fear, and I say that with firm conviction. Take a couple of trips — pun intended — and letting go becomes easy. This is why I am the ultimate minimalist. As I write this, I am living out of a suitcase and have only three pairs of shoes, the fewest I can remember. I literally have one suitcase and one backpack. The less I have, the more mobility I have; it has always been about mobility. I refused to conform, I absolutely hate authority, and while I am very academic, and I do love structure, I am a free spirit, I beat to my own drum and could care less what anyone thinks.

Now this can be a gift and a curse. For much of adulthood, finding a profession I felt aligned with my spirit, which is a very specific choice of words, was very difficult because I could not fake it. I will not create an illusion of something I am not. Many friends and family grew frustrated with me throughout the years, thinking that I was getting in my own way, and squandering opportunities, perhaps some of them thinking I’m out in the deep end. I know they did, they were losing hope. But they would never call me out or hold me accountable. That stays with me because if the people closest to you can’t, they are actually the root cause of your demise. They become enablers. It’s difficult to make the judgment as you don’t deal with yourself, and I’m willing to go to WAR if I believe in something, but as someone who exudes supreme confidence, I can understand why my loved ones would avoid the battle. Regardless, it does upset me. Needless to say, I am complicated, and I have seen a lot of stuff, but what the hell am I going to do with my life?

When you think of the great ones, you think of Mike, Tiger, LeBron, Primetime, Ali, Wilt, Gretzky, Brady, Jay, Drake, Denzel — well, the list goes on. At 16 years old, I had this second persona, internally with myself, he was a coach. Perhaps “Coach” was the coach of Antone, but there’s Antone & Coach Wilson, and they are very different. But this Coach guy, he was destined to be a great one. It’s easy for Antone to sit here and write about him; Antone is just a scholar, but Coach is something different. Whenever I am in a group setting or in a leadership position or in command of a large group, that’s when Coach comes out. He lives for the high stakes, he saw greatness, the bright lights, and becoming a public figure.

While the name implies he’s on the sideline, I envision something greater, and my disdain for answering to someone, and the fact that a coach is still employed by an organization and will answer to an AD or owner, didn’t sit well with me. I had to combine everything that embodies who I am: the flash, the command, the outspoken persona, the burning fire to compete, and the love of sport, and I needed to build something. To me, it was something that would penetrate and leave a mark. Steve Jobs influenced me quite a bit, which is strange for a coach figure, but if you really dissect my story through these preliminary chapters, you will be able to connect the dots as to why. Nonetheless, ICONIC brands, timeless fashion, ancient symbols — that’s all I can think of when I think of Coach. He has his thing, and for a while, it was undefined, but now I cannot think of Coach Wilson without Hyperspeed. That will be Coach’s legacy. It was this discovery that unlocked my prime years, which I proclaim began in early April 2024, and since then, NOTHING WAS THE SAME!