Neal… Thank you from the bottom of my heart for everything you did for me. From letting my membership float when I was laid off to always–every single fucking second I was in there–expecting my best. Demanding my best, even at 6 in the morning. Even when you were exhausted. Even when I wanted to do my own programming or CrossFit Football or whatever that shit was. You yelled, talked, smiled, and you let us know that our best was within our reach every single day, and that you were proud of us. Walking to Tremont St with battery acid in my mouth knowing you were proud of me was everything. You were my coach. The best coach I’ve ever had.
And you never said word one to me about how to be a coach or how to treat people. You didn’t have to. You showed me. Every single day. I will never forget those years on Terrace St for as long as I live, brother. I am a better person, husband, father, and coach because of you. I’m pretty sure there are hundreds of us around that can say the same. Good luck in whatever you do. I’ll be watching like always. Love you and the original CFB 4 Life.