Main entry: maverick
Part of speech: noun
Definition: person who takes chances, departs from accepted course
For a long time, I was politically drawn to Arizona Senator John McCain. A lot of it had to do with the fact that he was my “home” senator from AZ, but I liked how he seemed to cross party lines to do what he believed was best for his constituents. While the definition above seemed to fit, I didn’t really realize that he was known as a “maverick” until the 2008 pairing with vice presidential candidate Sarah Palin and all of the subsequent media fervor. Over the last few months, McCain has begun to resemble a maverick less and less.
Nash (right) with Mark Cuban and Dirk Nowitzki
Before you start thinking that this is a political article, you should know that my new favorite maverick isn’t a politician at all. Steve Nash, technically speaking, isn’t actually a Maverick either (as in the Dallas Mavericks of the NBA). While I have articulated my man-crush for Steve in the past, that was mostly tongue in cheek. I have a genuine fascination with why he is who he is, and how he does what he does.
What he does, on a regular basis, is dominate basketball games. Many of these games are played with men who are stronger, faster, bigger, and younger. He leads his team by example, and doesn’t need to preach. What he does, works, and people want to know how.
To say nothing of his mental toughness, the guy takes amazing care of his body. He doesn’t have bulging biceps or a washboard stomach, but he can run up and down the floor for 36 minutes a night and often saves his best moves and shots for the end of games. He doesn’t take special pills or sleep in a hyperbaric chamber. He just avoids sugars, red meats, processed foods, and anything fried.
That’s right, I’m looking hard at the Nash Diet.
Now that I’m on the other side of 30, I’m actually starting to feel it in my body. The golden arches don’t send a rumble through my tummy anymore. Well, actually they do. But, it’s the yucky kind or rumble. It seems to happen precisely after I’ve finished consuming one of their lovely paper-wrapped salt bombs. The garbage disposal that has been hitherto known as my stomach, is starting to beg for mercy.
We’ve had some good times. A glorious Monte Cristo sandwich with a plate full of fries. Been there. Ten White Castle cheeseburgers and a pitcher full of Big Red. Done that. One time, I actually managed to eat an entire DiGiorno’s Stuffed Crust Pizza and a 6-pack of Honey Brown lager. In a very real way, food makes me happy.
But I’ve wondered more and more lately about how food affects my mood. I can affirm my delighted demeanor until I am blue in the face, but my mind sometimes has trouble overcoming all of the crap that I put in my body. I don’t want to live from energy drink, to coffee, to whatever emotional high I get from some sort of greasy meal that my tongue loves.
Steve Nash’s diet, according to him, is pretty basic. 5-6 small meals per day, lots of fruit, nuts, grilled chicken, and fish. Oh, and drink plenty of water. And probably a bit of vitamin water:
So, I’m not ready to make some sort of public commitment and post my progress online (yet…). I’m just interested. My reticular formation is tuned in to what I am eating, and how it is making me feel. This is definitely something maverick for me.
