Evan Longoria is an exceptional baseball player. More importantly, he is a leader of men. Independently, these attributes are impactful. Together, they can be earthshaking. Inhabiting a locker next to his during his 2^nd and 3^rd seasons, I witnessed the development of a man with something to give and to say. Several years later, he is beginning to make use of his ever expanding platform.

I’ve been around enough superstar athletes, from A-Rod to Manny, to know when one is positively different for reasons unrelated to their athletic prowess. Evan can teach; he has a simple, concise message to share.  I’ll shut up and listen.

Youth baseball has changed so much since I played; I barely recognize it any more. Instead of pushing your son or daughter from behind and removing their balance in the process, take them by the hand and walk next to them.

When I was 10, I played baseball because I loved the game. I also played football, basketball and even some water polo. I enjoyed all of my youth sports experiences and perhaps appreciated baseball more because I didn’t play it year round. I was lucky enough to have parents who supported me in anything I chose to do.

I understand that the game has changed since the days of my childhood. Kids are specializing much younger and have advantages now that I could only dream of then. These advantages don’t come without a price. Baseball is meant to be fun, but that aspect seems to be lost amidst all the pressure from parents and coaches, a nomenclature all to itself and more money invested than some college teams spend.

Youth baseball has become filled with “travel teams” comprised of only the “elite” players and coached by adults promising to take these 9 and 10 year olds to the “next level,” whatever that means. Scouts show up at local fields, ranking these youth against all their peers. Tryouts are competitive, and kids who make it are thrust into a whirlwind of daily practices, year round training and multiple games a week spread out all over the area.

Instead of a bunch of kids getting together and being kids, baseball becomes a full-time job. Some of these outfits play 120 or more games a year, more than some minor league teams. Parents are spending thousands of dollars a season, and their kids feel the pressure to perform.

It doesn’t take long to find the stories of coaches thrown out of games for arguing, parents fighting in the stands or kids having surgery because they played too many games and got hurt. Don’t get me wrong, I don’t think that playing on a travel team is inherently wrong. It should be the kid’s dream, however, not the parent’s. I have an issue when we begin asking our youth, who are still physically and mentally immature, to take on the adult responsibility of a job.

I only ask one thing, let your kid dream on his own. Encourage and support your kid, but let him be a normal adolescent too. I promise that if he is meant to be standing where I am now, he will be. He’ll be standing there because this is the game he loves and is meant to play.

This post aims to save you at least $39. Go ahead and trash your body lotion ($8), chapstick ($3), teeth whitening mouthwash ($6), face cream ($15) and KY jelly ($7). Replace them all with pure, unrefined, organic coconut oil.

A quick internet search will net you several more products you can dispose of in favor of coconut oil, but this will get you off the starting blocks. A jar from Trader Joe’s comes in at about $6; you can get it in a larger size on Amazon for $13.

I don’t know why I didn’t write this post sooner. I mused months ago on its many virtues as cooking oil and briefly touched on it as a sunscreen, but that’s no excuse. I owe you guys the delivery of this information. I realized tonight how many times I reach into the jar. Since penning the initial coconut oil piece, I’ve taken some serious steps, and I’m inspired to share them with you.

A few bullets from my day:

First, I hopped out of the shower and, as is my ritual, moisturized with a few tablespoons before toweling off. From Huffington Post:

Many commercial brands of moisturizers contain petroleum-based ingredients that can suffocate the skin. In contrast, coconut oil provides deep and real moisture. It helps strengthen underlying tissues and helps remove excessive dead cell on the skin’s surface that makes your skin rough and flaky in texture.

Speaking of commercial brands, those women in the Crest Whitestrips commercials have some bright choppers, don’t they? Well, they don’t have anything on my friend Susan Altman, the best health coach the city of Boston can claim.

Susan says her routine consists of swishing with coconut oil for 20 minutes daily and using this natural toothpaste.

I don’t know about the toothpaste, but you can be damn sure that after my pitch-black morning coffee, I engage in a quick rinse with the clear. (No, I don’t mean the humorously dubbed PED of choice for certain famous ballplayers.) With the same spork I used to stab my mushrooms and scoop my eggs, I snatch a little scoop from the jar and shovel it in. The second I move it around a little, it melts. I’m off to the races like it’s Listerine, sans the gargle.

Using coconut oil as a mouthwash takes some getting used to. It’s a strange discovery at first, but I’d rather have a peculiar first experience than a mouthful of chlorhexidine gluconate, cetylpyridinium chloride and…you get the picture.

All that work swishing may leave your lips tired by day’s end. You’ll need a refresher. Reach for that fancy lip balm? Hell no. Just do it; same product.

Now, it’s not waxy, so it won’t behave identically as chapstick, but play with it. If it doesn’t satisfy, feel free to yell at me in the comments section below. Just don’t stress about it or you’ll get wrinkles.

On that note, dudes get wrinkles, too. Is it hours in the Malibu sun or am I just old? Either way, I don’t mess with Oil of Olay, slide me the Oil of Coconut. From antiagingsolutions.com:

Coconut oil is a natural moisturizer, so rubbing the oil daily can prevent skin dryness that is often caused by a vitamins deficiency. – Coconut oil contains an essential emollient, which helps reduce wrinkling and makes the skin softer.

– The oil’s antioxidant properties can prevent the formation of and eliminate free radicals that are one of the primary causes of early aging.

I woke up this morning feeling like telling a couple of stories. You should gather by now that I’m not a doctor, so don’t browse for medical advice in this post. I’m simply sharing a few of the things that came up over the course of my professional baseball career. Hopefully you can extract a takeaway or two.

I received an earful of medical recommendations during my MLB days. Most of it was spot on. On a few occasions, however, I was led comically astray. Those particular experiences still entertain me.  I quickly learned that neither the doctors nor my teammates were the ideal predictors for how I would progress.

Through my travels from club to club, I endured my fair share of bumps and bruises. From a full rupture of my Achilles tendon to a piece of metal lodged in my eyeball during my first professional season, I visited the team trainer as much as the next player.

In September of 2008, I tore my latissimus dorsi, the large muscle behind the right shoulder, attempting to throw a runner out at the plate. I was told immediately after that I’d miss the rest of the season and the playoffs. That turned out to be accurate. What followed was less so.

Our Milwaukee Brewers team doctor, William G. Raasch, presented two options for recovery.

First, he could perform surgery to repair the muscle and reattach it where it ripped away. The surgery would primarily be cosmetic – my right (throwing) side and my left (pretty) side would be symmetrical. This way, I would look normal when I flexed shamelessly in the mirror.

I fully and lightheartedly support flexing in front of the mirror, but this attractive art project had its downside. Dr. Raasch told me that I wouldn’t throw well again and would be a worse baseball player if I selected this route.

No chance; on to the second option.

He could leave my lat alone. I would go through a tough rehab process, strengthen back up and, ideally, I could get back to the same level of throwing (or close to it) the following season. Great, I thought, I’ll be the deformed baseball guy. How cool. I checked this box.

My teammate at the time, the fabulously supportive Ben Sheets, had the same injury a few years prior. It only made sense to lean on him for advice as I dredged through the arduous rehab process. His first bit of dark wisdom was direct.

“Kap,” Sheeter said, “You know all those pull-ups you do? You’ll never do them again.”

Sheets was my man. I love the dude, we played fantasy football together, but this was not music to my ears. I dig my pull-ups.

“I can’t even do one,” he later bragged.

Remember my earlier thought on the advice from teammates? Never let even well-meaning advice guide your personal limitations. I still remember the day a year or so later that I performed 5 pull-ups with a 100 pound dumbbell dangling between my legs (did I just say that?).

Myth busted, Sheeter. Take that.

My second tale is slightly more shocking because the advice I received came from as reputable a back doctor as exists in the country. His name will be concealed. I wouldn’t want one of my 6 devoted fans (I’m talking to you, Aunt Judy) to put a hit out on the poor chap.

In 2004, after celebrating in a bath of champagne with my Boston Red Sox teammates, I made the strange career decision to go acquire life experience through playing professional baseball in Japan. In fact, I turned down a two year contract offer from the Sox to do so. Living in Hiro, a neighborhood in Tokyo, would provide me with such culture. What a bonehead.

I had back pain often during that 2005 season with the Yomiuri Giants and at some point (the time bleeds together) in the mid 2000s I found myself in a famous doctor’s office reviewing x-rays of my spine.

I had Spondylolisthesis, a condition in which a vertebra in the spine slips out of the proper position onto the one below it. At the same time, the doc informed me of his second finding.  Spondylosis refers to degeneration of the spine. As with many other terms to describe spinal problems, spondylosis is more of a descriptive term than diagnosis. The doctor suggested that these conditions were not a result of running into a wall or diving for a ball. Rather, it may have been an old injury. Perhaps over time or during my adolescence, the “small fracture” simply appeared.

“Well,” he coldly stated without the slightest hint of emotion, “There’s nothing you can do short of spinal fusion surgery that will fix your issue. If you do that, you’ll have far less range of motion and won’t play baseball well again.”

No surgery. That’s not an option.

“Otherwise, you’ll need to strengthen the muscles around your spine though physical therapy but you’ll likely still encounter some degree of pain. You can live with this and play through the discomfort.”

Okay, I’ve played through pain before. I can handle this. It’s time to find out what this means for the rest of my life.

“I’m a weightlifter. What can’t I do?”

“Don’t do any load bearing exercises. No more squats. They may be part of this equation.”

Well, he is the doctor. He’s highly respected and has a lot more education than I do.  I stopped squatting after that visit. I did all the “functional” work and lots of physical therapy. One legged this, bosu ball that, I did it all. My pain didn’t improve.

Years later, I returned to heavy squats and dead lifts. Oddly (yes, that’s sarcasm) the muscles around my spine became pretty damn strong. I asked them to support several hundred pounds; they had no choice but to get tougher. Now, a decade later, my back feels better than when I walked into the doctor’s office.

Now, I’m not suggesting I cured any of my conditions. I haven’t had a recent X-ray, nor do I plan to. I trust my body and my instincts, and frankly, I don’t want to hear “it.” At any moment, I could fold up like an accordion, and the back doc would have the last maniacal laugh. I take a calculated approach; if I stay strong now and train intelligently today, my body will be well tomorrow.

Again, these are just anecdotes, not science. I just wanted to tell some stories.

Wait, that’s not enough? You were expecting to hear about the metal? Well, I might have exaggerated slightly.

In 1995 in Jamestown, NY while playing for the “Jammers,” I strolled into my morning workout at the local Y. The dumbbells were archaic. Aging whiskey is good. Aging weight room equipment, not so much.

I grabbed the 110 pounders (oooooh!) and laid flat to press.  Up and down, I completed my first rep on the bench. At some point during this set, I clanked the weights together at extension. A microscopic chunk of metal floated down into my right eyeball, nesting safely away from my pupil. I played 5 more NY-Penn League games before my eye began to swell enough to visit the hospital. Here, I got some truly sound advice from a doctor.

“We should remove that,” he said. I agreed, and we did.

In 1999, I was a rookie with the Detroit Tigers. After a game, I strode confidently into the Kansas City Royals’ weight room, rested the weight bar on my shoulders and settled in for some heavy squats.  I rocked my hips back and dropped into my form, feeling totally in control. On the way back up, I got stuck. I leaned forward and the bar spilled over my neck. More than 500 pounds went violently crashing to the floor and members of both teams turned to look.

Luckily, nothing was injured that day other than my pride.  It could have been much worse.  I was over-trained; I had an intense weight training session the day before and was just coming off playing nine innings.  “More is better” was my mantra, but I was naïve.

At 23, I lifted heavy weights every day. At 38, I lift three days a week. I’m not quite as strong, but I’m inching closer to that 500 pound threshold now that I understand the importance of rest and recovery.  If I understood how the body repairs itself when I was a rookie, I would have been stronger, healthier, and a better baseball player.

It’s essential to incorporate recovery days into your program so your muscles can adequately repair themselves, grow and become stronger. When we train with weights, we actually create small tears in our muscle fibers. Those fibers then repair and rebuild bigger and stronger while we rest.  If you don’t build in that downtime, you break the muscle fibers down further reducing the chance for solid growth and increasing the risk of injury.

If your ultimate goal is size and strength, avoid weight training, even targeting separate muscle groups, on consecutive days.

Your body only builds muscle when you are not weight training.  Trust the process, believe in the value of rest, and you’ll be significantly stronger as a result.

In the midst of digging for a pot of gold, how do you know when to quit? Achieving life’s most worthwhile goals requires uncommon persistence.

If you think you’re in the right spot, but don’t know how deep the treasure lies, throwing in the towel too soon could mean leaving behind riches galore.

Pat Riley recently mused on the Miami Heat’s devotion to bringing further titles to South Florida.

I think everybody needs to get a grip. This stuff is hard. You have to stay together and find the guts. You don’t find the [exit] door and run out of it.

In 2003, I found myself in the final season of a three-year contract with the Colorado Rockies and struggling mightily. The team made the decision to option me to AAA Colorado Springs. In the days that followed, my swing worsened. I felt the awkwardness of a player stepping into a batter’s box for the first time, not the confidence of a man who had been there thousands of times prior. No matter the adjustments I made, my existence as a baseball player was nightmarish. I recall saying to my then-wife, Lisa, “Alright, what am I really going to do with my life?” I won’t lie; I was unenthusiastic about showing up to the ballpark. I’d sheepishly peek at the lineup from around the corner, praying that I’d get one more chance to prove my mettle, but knowing full well that I hadn’t earned it the night before. I was beaten down by the days of work in the cage with no results. My mind was exhausted.

Staying put is a substantial challenge when the grind gets tedious, when success isn’t coming fast enough or when you’re coming off an ass whipping. Those times require honest self-evaluation and a determination to continue moving forward.  Formulating a plan is necessary. From Napoleon Hill:

Wishing will not bring a successful result. But desiring a result with a state of mind that becomes an obsession, then planning definite ways and means to achieve it, and backing those plans with persistence which does not recognize failure, will produce results.

Before the sun appeared, it got even cloudier. I was released by the Rockies organization and flew home to Los Angeles. This was my moment of truth. I could thrash around violently in the ocean of life, railing at the waves, I could give up, hugging my knees, and sink below the depths, or I could start swimming, pausing to float and rest, then swimming again.

I relied on a childhood pastime.

I discovered myself at a public outdoor cage connected to a miniature golf joint.  During that time of pounding yellow, dimpled rubber baseballs the opposite way and calmly grinding to figure out my stroke, I plugged into my journey and became present. I felt alive and emotional. I didn’t know where I would end up, but I had a plan and perseverance. I didn’t know how close I was to the gold, but I kept digging.

My agent called later that day. “Kap, the Cardinals and the Red Sox both want to sign you to Major League contracts.” Boom, I’m wearing a jeweled crown.

I signed with the Red Sox. A week later, I’m at Fenway Park bashing balls off the Monster.  Talk about gratifying. With the crystal memory of my earlier anguish still fresh, I was able to fully appreciate the land beneath my feet.

No matter how solid the approach, nobody has full pockets all the time. I’ve had my moments of digging deep and still coming up with lint. Inevitably, we all encounter times to remove the work gloves and put away the treasure map, or at least change our pursuit.

Many years after my days with the Red Sox, in 2011, I passionately chased the opportunity to play my final season or two at home in Los Angeles for the Dodgers. It was time for me to be close to my young men. I went as far as sending a personal note to GM Ned Colletti to express my strong feeling that I was a good fit for the club. He and I sat down and my hometown team provided me a shot to make the club in spring training. I put forth an adequate showing, but after our first exhibition game, manager Don Mattingly and Ned called me into the office in the home clubhouse at Dodger Stadium. They informed me that they were keeping Xavier Paul; I had fallen short of my goal and wasn’t making the team.

It didn’t have to be the end for me. The Dodgers would allow me to play for their AAA team until something opened up at the big league level, and other clubs contacted me to discuss Major League contracts. I concluded that my priority was staying at home with my sons, and I ended my baseball career.

Was I quitting because times got tough or was this example of solid self-evaluation of my situation? I’m confident it was the latter. Perhaps some time in Albuquerque would have resulted in achieving my ultimate goal of playing at home. This scenario is open to interpretation. I revisit it frequently.

When times strike you as overwhelming, and your patience is wafer thin, sometimes the ideal action is anything that keeps you moving. If you hone and subsequently trust your self-evaluation skills, you’ll also be able to identify when your situation is stale and you need to find a new energy source.

The trick is to figure out whether fear or another negative emotion is driving our decision-making process or if we’ve rationally identified that a change of course is optimal. Staying cozy in a fruitless situation can be as devastating as giving up too soon. From Spencer Johnson in Who Moved My Cheese?:

It is safer to search in the maze than to remain in a cheeseless situation

Tricky, isn’t it?

As with anything else, practicing awareness is the move. Both stillness and action have their virtues. Dig deep within persistently and vigorously to understand yourself and determine what you need to be whole. Therein lies the true pot of gold.

July 25, 2016 By Gabe Kapler 1 Comment

Two posts connected by a straight line. Back with you again, my familiar friend. A world away, square blocks, where we originally met. You ruled the land. Reigning over tagged alleys and the Reseda wash. Here in paradise, you’re out of place. An abrasive old man in a quiet lounge, flaws on full display. You’ll be gone soon. A cityscape’s T-Rex.

Filed Under: General

I may be attempting to predict the future, but Eric has one-upped me.

The @Indians & @CKluber over King Felix tomorrow?@gabekapler predicts the future in The Kapler Courier! #WhipAround pic.twitter.com/Rv9xiVdgbY

— FOX Sports: MLB (@MLBONFOX) July 30, 2014

He knows I’ve consistently sung the praises of the right arm of Indians pitcher Corey Kluber. I’m fascinated hearing about the mental toughness of the man going toe to toe with King Felix tonight in Cleveland. The timing of this post is impeccable.

Well played, Cressey. Well played indeed.

I’m fortunate to have a unique perspective on the current state of baseball. At Cressey Sports Performance, we work with athletes as young as 12 years of age and count as clients players from all 30 Major League Baseball organizations.

In light of this perspective, just about every conversation I have with parents, coaches, and kids invariably winds up leading to the question, “What separates the best from the guys who don’t make it?”

My answer is always a single word: consistency. The guys who “make it” and succeed are far more consistent in every aspect of their preparation than the ones who don’t.

Beyond our love of strength and conditioning, Gabe and I share a common bond: we’re both big Corey Kluber fans. For Gabe, it’s likely because of the way Corey pitches and his knowledge of forward-thinking statistical analyses of Corey’s accomplishments. For me, it’s because I’ve been fortunate to work with Corey for the past four years, beginning when he was “just” a Double-A pitcher.

The prevailing school of thought on him is he’s an unexcitable guy who has come out of nowhere. Seriously, “doesn’t smile” and “he must have just figured it out” are the centerpieces of every Corey Kluber discussion. Well, I’m here to burst your bubble: Corey actually has a great sense of humor, and his success is anything but accidental.

Each year, I write an October strength and conditioning program for Corey. A lot of players go on vacation to “recharge” for 4-6 weeks, and some even wait until the first of the year to start preparing for Spring Training. It’s certainly less common than it used to be, but there literally are guys who do zero exercise for 2.5 months.

Corey recognizes that taking care of his body is a year-round job, not simply a switch one can flip on and off when it’s convenient. Now, don’t get me wrong, we aren’t destroying him in the weight room that month. We focus on undoing the imbalances and weaknesses created by an absurdly long competitive season. We’re rebuilding work capacity, getting soreness out of the way, improving tissue quality and re-establishing proper nutrition and sleep patterns. This has guaranteed consistent athleticism throughout the year, as he hasn’t detrained like other players.

The end result? Corey has gotten an additional 4-6 weeks of off-season preparation over the “typical” MLB player over the past four years. Consistent effort yields consistent results. His average fastball velocity has increased each year he’s been in the big leagues – even as he has gotten older and thrown more innings and 2-seam fastballs.

You can’t get better at baseball (or any pursuit) if you aren’t healthy enough to play baseball and put in quality work. With the exception of a freak finger issue last year, Corey has taken the ball every five days for the past five years. His hard work and preparation have put him in a position to be healthy enough to “figure it out.”

In light of all the comments on how Corey rarely smiles on camera, I’d note that consistency of mindset is incredibly important. The guys who “make it” are the ones who don’t need to be talked off the ledge after a bad start on the mound or a 4 K day at the plate.  They develop coping strategies, whether it’s reading the bible, golfing, playing with their kids, or messing around with video games, which they use whether they win or lose. Corey doesn’t get too up, and he doesn’t get too down.

I could go on and on about how he – without even knowing it – makes coaching him very easy. He clearly communicates how he’s feeling, asks questions if something isn’t clear, and – like clockwork – reminds me a week before he needs a new program. Success doesn’t happen by accident; it happens for those who’ve consistently worked hard and smart to deserve it.

While my title might be “strength and conditioning coach,” I view my biggest role as one of “educator.”

It’s my job to counsel athletes on how their bodies are unique and what they need to do to stay healthy over the long haul.

It’s my job to educate them on how – while it is approached much differently – in-season training is as important as the work they put in over the off-season.

It’s my job to relate to them that consistency in nutrition is as important as consistency in training; you can’t perform if you haven’t given your body the right fuel and building blocks.

It’s my job to explain to them why year-round baseball is a terrible idea if the goal is long-term development and health.

It’s my job to teach them how to avoid getting too “up” and too “down” after outstanding and poor performances, respectively.

If more athletes – regardless of level – took a step back to look at their developmental approach, they’d realize that success is about much more than finding the perfect exercise, magic supplement, newest glove or coolest walk-out song. It’s about consistency. Just ask Corey Kluber.

About the Author

Eric Cressey is the president and co-founder of Cressey Sports Performance, with locations in Hudson, MA and Jupiter, FL. He publishes a free newsletter and daily blog at www.EricCressey.com.

Developing calluses is a necessary part of the process for building strength as you perform heavy deadlifts, rows and pull-ups.

During the early days of my pro baseball career, I went “no BGs” (that is, sans batting gloves). I liked the feel of the wood on my skin, the pine tar smell my hands retained, and the even more sensitive feel of striking a ball flush. Possibly coincidentally, this was my most successful time in the minors.

The downside was I literally hit until I bled. I spent countless hours in the cage in April, smashing ball after ball off a tee in Mobile, Alabama or Ashville, North Carolina, or wherever. It didn’t really matter; I traveled long hours on a bus to get there. I’d step into the hitting facilities in these random Southern towns, bang, then have to tape my raw, stinging hands for regular batting practice at 4:00pm.

Once I developed thick calluses, this happened less and less. At some point in the season, I’d declare my claws battle ready. The same is true for weightlifting. The tougher my hands are, the better equipped I am to handle heavy lifts.

Old baseball myth: Urinating on your own hands over time strengthens the skin. Try this if you like and report back. For me, I’ll go old school and lift my way to callus development.

From livestrong.com:

Using hand tools can cause a callus to develop on the hands. The calluses develop on the hands to prevent blisters from forming. Tools that use a repetitive motion from the hands, such as a rake, cause the most concern for callus formation. Sometime a callus can be helpful. Individuals who play the guitar develop a callus on the fingers from the friction on the guitar strings. The calluses in turn make playing the guitar easier…

Obviously, we ain’t playin’ guitar, but the theories are congruent. Hands that are pleasant to touch don’t generally behave as tough under pressure. Imagine your grandmother’s hands. My grandma Rose (98 years old) has the softest hands on earth. The steel bar weighted down with plates would not bode well for her supple skin.

Some folks believe that you have to keep your calluses in check.

From stronglifts.com:

It is crucial keep the size of your calluses under control – big calluses will get pinched under the bar and can tear apart.

I haven’t found this to be true. I don’t file mine, ever. Now, occasionally, I get one that tears, but I chalk it up (see what I did there?) to a casualty of war.

Simply put, don’t fight the callus development process. Embrace your rough hands as a badge of honor. Shake the hand of your loved ones. When they cringe at your paws, state proudly “Yeah, that’s what they’re supposed to feel like.” If you’re feeling especially confident, add an “Uhhhhhhh” and don’t credit Master P.

Kap

PS: If you’ve got good callus tips/stories, leave them in the comments section, please, so that we can all learn from them.

This morning, I was speaking with several baseball players about the benefits of adding coconut oil to coffee. I expressed to them that while mixing the two has its virtues, they can each stand alone as powerful contributors to our general health and well being. More specifically, we dove into the many uses of coconut oil. I figured as a follow up, today would be as good as time as ever for our very first re-post. Here you go. 

This post aims to save you at least $39. Go ahead and trash your body lotion ($8), chapstick ($3), teeth whitening mouthwash ($6), face cream ($15) and KY jelly ($7). Replace them all with pure, unrefined, organic coconut oil.

A quick internet search will net you several more products you can dispose of in favor of coconut oil, but this will get you off the starting blocks. A jar from Trader Joe’s comes in at about $6; you can get it in a larger size on Amazon for $13.

I don’t know why I didn’t write this post sooner. I mused months ago on its many virtues as cooking oil and briefly touched on it as a sunscreen, but that’s no excuse. I owe you guys the delivery of this information. I realized tonight how many times I reach into the jar. Since penning the initial coconut oil piece, I’ve taken some serious steps, and I’m inspired to share them with you.

A few bullets from my day:

First, I hopped out of the shower and, as is my ritual, moisturized with a few tablespoons before toweling off. From Huffington Post:

Many commercial brands of moisturizers contain petroleum-based ingredients that can suffocate the skin. In contrast, coconut oil provides deep and real moisture. It helps strengthen underlying tissues and helps remove excessive dead cell on the skin’s surface that makes your skin rough and flaky in texture.

Speaking of commercial brands, those women in the Crest Whitestrips commercials have some bright choppers, don’t they? Well, they don’t have anything on my friend Susan Altman, the best health coach the city of Boston can claim.

Susan says her routine consists of swishing with coconut oil for 20 minutes daily and using this natural toothpaste.

I don’t know about the toothpaste, but you can be damn sure that after my pitch-black morning coffee, I engage in a quick rinse with the clear. (No, I don’t mean the humorously dubbed PED of choice for certain famous ballplayers). With the same spork I used to stab my mushrooms and scoop my eggs, I snatch a little scoop from the jar and shovel it in. The second I move it around a little, it melts. I’m off to the races like it’s Listerine, sans the gargle.

Using coconut oil as a mouthwash takes some getting used to. It’s a strange discovery at first, but I’d rather have a peculiar first experience than a mouthful of chlorhexidine gluconate, cetylpyridinium chloride, and…you get the picture.

All that work swishing may leave your lips tired by day’s end. You’ll need a refresher. Reach for that fancy lip balm? Hell no. Just do it; same product.

Now, it’s not waxy, so it won’t behave identically as chapstick, but play with it. If it doesn’t satisfy, feel free to yell at me in the comments section below. Just don’t stress about it or you’ll get wrinkles.

On that note, dudes get wrinkles, too. Is it hours in the Malibu sun, or am I just old? Either way, I don’t mess with Oil of Olay, slide me the Oil of Coconut. From antiagingsolutions.com:

Coconut oil is a natural moisturizer, so rubbing the oil daily can prevent skin dryness that is often caused by a vitamins deficiency. – Coconut oil contains an essential emollient, which helps reduce wrinkling and makes the skin softer.

– The oil’s antioxidant properties can prevent the formation of and eliminate free radicals that are one of the primary causes of early aging.

Packing a soft cooler, filling it with healthy food, snacks and water and bringing it to the ballpark will exponentially improve your overall baseball fan experience.

Most folks assume you can’t bring food into stadiums and sports arenas. It’s easy to feel forced into crunching nachos and Crackerjacks. I’ve heard this typical narrative:

I thoroughly enjoyed my day at the yard watching my favorite team, but now I feel like the pile of garbage I consumed in the hot sun. It sucks not having options.

I’ll go ahead and stop you right there. With a little forethought, you have plenty of options. Check out these rules snatched directly from the Nationals’ ballpark regulations list:

All food items must be contained in single serving bags within a soft-sided container or cooler that does not exceed 16″x16″x8″.

Okay, that’s easy enough. We can work with that.

I can’t say that I’ve scoured every ballpark and arena’s policy. Major league ballparks are easy, but many minor league stadiums are a different bag (see what I did there?). Pawtucket, for example, might be intimidating for some. That’s their intention. They want you to purchase their grub (well, what they present as such):

International League Rules states: “In the interest of public safety, no cans, bottles, food or containers may be brought into International League ballparks.” PawSox ushers and security staff are instructed to NOT allow food or drink into McCoy Stadium.

Ouch. That stings. Remember my post on being resourceful? Good.

I just called McCoy Stadium. I expressed to them that I have food allergies (I don’t have food allergies, per se), and asked if I could bring my own nourishment. Their response: “Of course, just call ahead and let us know what food items you’ll be bringing in, and it will be no problem.”

Don’t judge me. Technically, I was telling the truth.

World English Dictionary

allergy  (ˈælədʒɪ)
— n  , pl -gies
	a hypersensitivity to a substance that causes the body to react to any contact with that substance

Yup, that’s me. When I ingest the yellow #5 in cotton candy, I realize the error of my ways, get cranky and, well, hypersensitive.

Seriously, while I don’t recommend fibbing about food allergies, I stand behind the broader point that with a strong will there is a way. Ring the minor league club’s director of operations, the assistant GM, whomever. Tell them you have personal dietary restrictions that won’t allow you to eat ballpark cuisine. Let them know that the moment they bring in whole organic options, you’ll be a buyer. Express that you deserve to enjoy a splendid meal while watching the game just like any other fan, and you want the choice. If your case is compelling, you’ll be surprised how accommodating a business can be.

Now that you know how to bend the rules, you don’t have an excuse. If you want to plan an indulgence and plow through a couple beers and dogs, you have my backing. If you want to remain on point, stay tuned, and I’ll tell you what to stuff in that soft cooler.

Love y’all,

Kap