empty, and alone. Alphas are dedicated to their families, friends, health, and most of all to themselves. They are dedicated to improvement, but they are not tied to a narcissistic view that impairs their ability to create a rich, multifaceted existence.
CHAPTER 2
Choose Your Own Adventure
ACCEPTING YOUR ROLE AS THE HERO
“There is one rule, above all others, for being a man. Whatever comes, face it on your feet.”
— ROBERT JORDAN , THE GREAT HUNT
ARIA CASINO, LAS VEGAS
T he reason every guy struggles with fitness can be explained by Joseph Campbell. Understand that, and the transformation becomes easier.”
The man across from me glanced down at the cards on the table, his eyes lingering just a second too long on the eight of spades, which was the far right in the line. The eight had come on the turn and had been preceded on the flop by the queen of hearts, ten of diamonds, and ace of diamonds. He reached into his stack and tossed some chips in the middle. I wasn’t sure how much— some chips was the best description, since he didn’t make a verbal declaration, or even take the time to count out a bet. Just grab and bet. In poker, this is generally either a very strong move or a very weak one; it all depends on the man making it.
I was sitting in the poker room at the Aria Casino, Adam Bornstein on my left. Adam was finally taking a break from questioning me long enough to let me assess my next move. The guy across the table, the one who had made the bet, sat in stony silence as well. I didn’t know his name, but I mentally labeled him Trucker Hat, for the very obvious reason that, contrary to all logic, he was still wearing a trucker hat about five years after society had collectively decided that it was no longer okay to do so.
It was 12:47 A.M . in Vegas, but my body was still on New York time, and I had been playing for a few hours already. I should have been exhausted, but instead felt elated. It was too early for Trucker Hat to be making moves like this.
I glanced briefly at my cards, as though they might have changed in the last minute or so. Didn’t matter. Play the man, not the cards. I counted out a pile of chips from my stack, and set it aside. I took a few deep breaths, deep enough for Trucker Hat to see. I stared at the queen, then the ace. I waited a bit longer and then doubled, declaring a raise. Eleven black chips went into the pot.
“You really think that’ll work?” Adam resumed his questioning once the chips were down. It was a game within a game.
I glanced at Adam, then at Trucker Hat. “Raising? Yeah, usually does. Makes guys think twice about calling with middle pair.” I ended the speech with a smirk and a wink. Adam wasn’t talking about the bet. I knew that.
“What? No,” Adam said. “ Campbell . Do you think guys will get Campbell? Not everyone’s a fucking Star Wars geek.”
His point was lost on me. I don’t understand people who don’t like Star Wars .
“Dude, everyone gets Campbell. It doesn’t matter if they haven’t read his stuff. That’s the entire point. It’s burned into the consciousness of every culture. It’s the way we tell stories. The monomyth isn’t . . . isn’t fucking invalidated because you don’t know about it—it’s the fact that you can understand it without learning it that makes it more valid. And valuable. I think they’ll get it.”
Trucker Hat was eyeing me. Well, sometimes. His eyes darted back and forth from my face to Adam’s to my chips and back to me. He was clearly trying to reconcile the spectacle of muscular guy in an unnecessarily tight T-shirt * talking about Campbell. In the mind of most people, meatheads and myths are probably not related.
Adam considered my words. Trucker Hat considered his move. I considered his chips.
Call.
STARTING FROM SCRATCH
Who the hell is Joseph Campbell? And what happened with the bet?
If you are like most people, after reading that your brain is probably processing one of those
CHAPTER 2
Choose Your Own Adventure
ACCEPTING YOUR ROLE AS THE HERO
“There is one rule, above all others, for being a man. Whatever comes, face it on your feet.”
— ROBERT JORDAN , THE GREAT HUNT
ARIA CASINO, LAS VEGAS
T he reason every guy struggles with fitness can be explained by Joseph Campbell. Understand that, and the transformation becomes easier.”
The man across from me glanced down at the cards on the table, his eyes lingering just a second too long on the eight of spades, which was the far right in the line. The eight had come on the turn and had been preceded on the flop by the queen of hearts, ten of diamonds, and ace of diamonds. He reached into his stack and tossed some chips in the middle. I wasn’t sure how much— some chips was the best description, since he didn’t make a verbal declaration, or even take the time to count out a bet. Just grab and bet. In poker, this is generally either a very strong move or a very weak one; it all depends on the man making it.
I was sitting in the poker room at the Aria Casino, Adam Bornstein on my left. Adam was finally taking a break from questioning me long enough to let me assess my next move. The guy across the table, the one who had made the bet, sat in stony silence as well. I didn’t know his name, but I mentally labeled him Trucker Hat, for the very obvious reason that, contrary to all logic, he was still wearing a trucker hat about five years after society had collectively decided that it was no longer okay to do so.
It was 12:47 A.M . in Vegas, but my body was still on New York time, and I had been playing for a few hours already. I should have been exhausted, but instead felt elated. It was too early for Trucker Hat to be making moves like this.
I glanced briefly at my cards, as though they might have changed in the last minute or so. Didn’t matter. Play the man, not the cards. I counted out a pile of chips from my stack, and set it aside. I took a few deep breaths, deep enough for Trucker Hat to see. I stared at the queen, then the ace. I waited a bit longer and then doubled, declaring a raise. Eleven black chips went into the pot.
“You really think that’ll work?” Adam resumed his questioning once the chips were down. It was a game within a game.
I glanced at Adam, then at Trucker Hat. “Raising? Yeah, usually does. Makes guys think twice about calling with middle pair.” I ended the speech with a smirk and a wink. Adam wasn’t talking about the bet. I knew that.
“What? No,” Adam said. “ Campbell . Do you think guys will get Campbell? Not everyone’s a fucking Star Wars geek.”
His point was lost on me. I don’t understand people who don’t like Star Wars .
“Dude, everyone gets Campbell. It doesn’t matter if they haven’t read his stuff. That’s the entire point. It’s burned into the consciousness of every culture. It’s the way we tell stories. The monomyth isn’t . . . isn’t fucking invalidated because you don’t know about it—it’s the fact that you can understand it without learning it that makes it more valid. And valuable. I think they’ll get it.”
Trucker Hat was eyeing me. Well, sometimes. His eyes darted back and forth from my face to Adam’s to my chips and back to me. He was clearly trying to reconcile the spectacle of muscular guy in an unnecessarily tight T-shirt * talking about Campbell. In the mind of most people, meatheads and myths are probably not related.
Adam considered my words. Trucker Hat considered his move. I considered his chips.
Call.
STARTING FROM SCRATCH
Who the hell is Joseph Campbell? And what happened with the bet?
If you are like most people, after reading that your brain is probably processing one of those
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