Boxers have been known to go into fights carrying a certain amount of baggage. For Saturday night's Pay-Per-View Welterweight Championship, that's an understatement. Floyd Mayweather Jr. and "Sugar" Shane Mosley are traveling to Vegas freighted heavier than Sean "Puff Daddy" Combs on an around-the-world tour. Unfortunately, none of those bags are by being sewn by Lois Vuitton. Instead, the baggage should have "BALCO" stamped all over it.
Whether we like it or not, some things are inevitable. While we all looked on in shock and horror as a murder case involving a top pro bodybuilder and top pro fitness competitor unfolded, knowing that Craig Titus was involved didn't surprise a single person. The case against him included kidnapping, torture, murder and a ludicrous cover up attempt - complete with a burning Jaguar in the dessert and a cross-country chase that ended in a nail salon outside Boston - only made it all the more fitting for ole Craiggers. While the shock and horror was over the fact that the guilty party was one of us, the fact that it was Craig really didn't shock anyone.
I was sitting near the front row at the XYZ Pro Show and I couldn't help but hear the familiar rant of a popular so-called "diet guru" behind me yelling in his unmistakable accent. "Oh, yes, he look very good! Very ripped... What his name?"
Some photographer answered his question and supplied the name. Next, this guru starts yelling out the guy's name- a competitor he doesn't even know - and begins instructing him from the crowd as if it's HIS client! "Yes!! That it... blow out!! Oh yes, you look great!.... Squeeze the legs... Yes, that it!!"
Long before poverty had driven most of us into the real world of car payments and domestic anguish and we had to replace four hour workouts with 40 minute body blasts and 40 hour work weeks, a guy named Jake Stienfield started a little business called Body by Jake. This was the first personal training service catering mostly to the odd physiques of Hollywood producers and their charges. Gradually, this notion sunk into the heads of hitherto gym rats, realizing that if they could manage to count to ten they could actually earn a handsome living while hanging at the gym. Low and behold the ubiquitous personal trainer was born.
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