How high can you actually see yourself going?
When I was fighting my way up through the ranks of professional hockey, I became fascinated with the UFC.
I loved combat sports.
There was something so pure about it.
Two men step into a cage.
Knuckle to knuckle.
Bone on bone.
No place to hide.
No teammates to bail you out.
No excuses.
Just two competitors finding out who wants it more and who will be the last man standing.
There’s something savage about that.
But there’s also something strangely profound and poetic about it.
And as I followed the sport more closely, one fighter’s mentality really caught my attention.
Conor McGregor.
Long before he became one of the biggest names in combat sports, he carried himself like he already knew exactly where he was going.
There was one line of his that always stuck with me:
“I’m not here to take part. I’m here to take over.”
Man.
Think about that mentality.
Not:
Hopefully I make it.
Not:
Maybe I can hang around.
Not:
It would be cool if I got a chance.
I’m here to take over.
That’s the mentality of a lion.
A warrior.
A champion.
And if I could go back and change one thing about my own hockey career, I wish I had developed more of that mentality when I was young.
Because I didn't.
I wanted to make it.
Desperately.
But there was still a ceiling in my mind.
Maybe I could play pro hockey.
Maybe I could make a living in Europe.
Maybe I could become a solid AHL player.
And maybe—just maybe—I could somehow scratch and claw my way into the NHL.
But a star in the NHL?
That was harder for me to see.
I'll never forget something my college strength and conditioning coach told me.
He had watched me develop over four years.
He saw me grow physically.
He watched my game change.
He watched me mature from a kid into a man.
And when I left college to sign my first professional contract, he looked at me and said:
“Bobby, I believe you can be a star in the NHL.”
I still remember what happened inside me when he said it.
Instead of immediately thinking:
HELL YES.
I felt fear.
A pit formed in my stomach.
Because somewhere deep down…
I didn't believe him.
He could see something in me that I couldn't yet see in myself.
Sure, I wanted to make the NHL.
But part of me was thinking:
Just get there.
Make league minimum.
Play some games.
Make a good living.
That would be incredible.
And looking back now, I wonder how much that limited me.
What if I had looked at my hockey career and said:
I'm not here just to make the NHL.
I'm here to become one of the best players in it.
Maybe I wouldn't have reached that goal.
There's never a guarantee.
But imagine how differently I would have needed to train.
Imagine how differently I would have eaten.
Recovered.
Practiced.
Studied.
Prepared.
Carried myself.
A bigger vision demands a bigger version of you.
That's the lesson I want every young hockey player reading this to understand.
Stop putting a ceiling on yourself before the world even gets a chance to.
Don't say:
Maybe I can make varsity.
Ask:
Why can't I be the best player on varsity?
Don't say:
Maybe I can play junior hockey.
Ask:
How good would I have to become to dominate junior hockey?
Don't say:
Maybe I can play college hockey someday.
Ask:
What would the future Division I version of me be doing today?
And if your dream is the NHL?
Don't apologize for it.
Don't shrink it because somebody might laugh.
Don't make it more “realistic” so you won't be disappointed.
Shoot as high as your body will take you.
But even more importantly…
Shoot as high as your mind will allow you to see.
Because I believe that's where the limitation starts.
Before you can become something, you have to be able to see the possibility of becoming it.
So sometime tonight, shut everything off.
Put the phone down.
Close your eyes.
And paint the picture.
What kind of hockey player do you want to become?
What league are you playing in?
What does your body look like?
How do you skate?
How do you train?
How do you carry yourself?
How does that player spend his Monday morning?
Tuesday night?
Saturday afternoon?
See him.
Then tomorrow, start behaving like him.
Because the vision means nothing without the work.
And you don't have to transform overnight.
You just have to take the next action that the player you're trying to become would take.
Then another.
Then another.
Don't just take part in your hockey career.
Go after it.
Knuckles up!
Bobby Robins, savage motivator, NHL Alum, writer for Wraparound
P.S. Part of going after it means putting in work when everybody else has already called it a day. Ten minutes in the driveway. Fifty extra shots. Another hundred touches with the puck.
>>>Grab your Puckaround and Wraparound and turn the pavement into your training ground.
The player you're trying to become is built in those extra reps.