just thought this was such a great story that some of you might wanna read it
credit to: Matt Barrows
Matt Barrows Jun 18, 2021
55
The whispers entered the bedroom before any hint of sunlight.
“Dad?”
During the night, the temperature had dropped to a steal-your-breath kind of cold. Inside, the covers were nice and warm. It would feel so good to sleep one more hour. Two more would be glorious. But now the whispers had reached the edge of the bed.
“Dad? Are you ready to go?”
Carlton Lance’s eyes blinked open, and instantly he was on the move.
The whispers came from his oldest son, Trey, an invitation to a daily routine. Their destination: the local YMCA, which opened its doors at 5 a.m. A few minutes later, Carlton would step out of the chill with Trey right behind him.
“Every single time — every single time — that man hopped out of bed and said, ‘You bet!'” Angie Lance said of her husband. “In Minnesota the mornings are cold, and Carl has a very demanding job, and I know there had to be times when he wanted to sleep in. But there was not one time when that kid would have ever felt that. Carl jumped out of bed every time.”
Carlton, 50, was a standout cornerback at nearby Southwest Minnesota State University in the early 1990s and had a short professional career that included a training camp stint with the 49ers. Some at the YMCA on those winter days might have recognized him from his playing days — he was inducted into the school’s athletic hall of fame in 2011 — or because he was a defensive backs coach for the local high school team. Still others might have known him as the co-owner of a financial services company he started 13 years ago.
These days, of course, he’s mostly known around town as Trey’s dad.
In April, the 49ers drafted Trey No. 3 overall. His ceiling seems as high as any San Francisco quarterback since Steve Young, but anyone searching for where Lance’s ascent began probably ought to start at the YMCA on South A Street in Marshall, Minn., a town of 13,500 residents 35 miles from the South Dakota border.
The family’s been going there since Trey was little. In fact, Carlton saved a voicemail 3-year-old Trey left for him at work one day: Dad, me and Mom are going to go to the YMCA in a couple of seconds. Could you hurry?
Trey first started talking about playing Division I sports in seventh grade, and that’s when the 5 a.m. routine began. His brother, Bryce, two years Trey’s junior and heading off to play wide receiver at North Dakota State this year, later joined the outings.
Carlton had one rule: He’d never set an alarm or be in charge of rousing the boys. He was eager to work with them, to help polish away any weaknesses, to impart every bit of wisdom he’d picked up from Houston to Saskatchewan to London to Rocklin, Calif. But he was wary of pushing so hard he’d drive them away.
“‘I’m not going to wake you up,'” Carlton recalled telling them. “‘You wake me up and I’m not ever going to say no.’ So (Trey) started doing it. And that became our thing.”
The workouts initially occurred at night, but that was no good. There were high school games the boys wanted to watch, birthday parties to attend, spelling tests the next day. The predawn morning was empty and quiet. It was perfect. As Carlton would say, there wasn’t anyone trying to steal their time.
As they left the gym every morning, the sun up and the morning crowd trickling in, Carlton would turn to his son and tell him the same thing he’d said the day before — and the same thing he’d repeat the next day, too.
“Hey, we outworked someone today. The other guy is still sleeping.”
credit to: Matt Barrows
‘We outworked someone today’: How Trey Lance’s father — and a man who doesn’t exist — made the 49ers QB
Matt Barrows Jun 18, 2021
The whispers entered the bedroom before any hint of sunlight.
“Dad?”
During the night, the temperature had dropped to a steal-your-breath kind of cold. Inside, the covers were nice and warm. It would feel so good to sleep one more hour. Two more would be glorious. But now the whispers had reached the edge of the bed.
“Dad? Are you ready to go?”
Carlton Lance’s eyes blinked open, and instantly he was on the move.
The whispers came from his oldest son, Trey, an invitation to a daily routine. Their destination: the local YMCA, which opened its doors at 5 a.m. A few minutes later, Carlton would step out of the chill with Trey right behind him.
“Every single time — every single time — that man hopped out of bed and said, ‘You bet!'” Angie Lance said of her husband. “In Minnesota the mornings are cold, and Carl has a very demanding job, and I know there had to be times when he wanted to sleep in. But there was not one time when that kid would have ever felt that. Carl jumped out of bed every time.”
Carlton, 50, was a standout cornerback at nearby Southwest Minnesota State University in the early 1990s and had a short professional career that included a training camp stint with the 49ers. Some at the YMCA on those winter days might have recognized him from his playing days — he was inducted into the school’s athletic hall of fame in 2011 — or because he was a defensive backs coach for the local high school team. Still others might have known him as the co-owner of a financial services company he started 13 years ago.
These days, of course, he’s mostly known around town as Trey’s dad.
In April, the 49ers drafted Trey No. 3 overall. His ceiling seems as high as any San Francisco quarterback since Steve Young, but anyone searching for where Lance’s ascent began probably ought to start at the YMCA on South A Street in Marshall, Minn., a town of 13,500 residents 35 miles from the South Dakota border.
The family’s been going there since Trey was little. In fact, Carlton saved a voicemail 3-year-old Trey left for him at work one day: Dad, me and Mom are going to go to the YMCA in a couple of seconds. Could you hurry?
Trey first started talking about playing Division I sports in seventh grade, and that’s when the 5 a.m. routine began. His brother, Bryce, two years Trey’s junior and heading off to play wide receiver at North Dakota State this year, later joined the outings.
Carlton had one rule: He’d never set an alarm or be in charge of rousing the boys. He was eager to work with them, to help polish away any weaknesses, to impart every bit of wisdom he’d picked up from Houston to Saskatchewan to London to Rocklin, Calif. But he was wary of pushing so hard he’d drive them away.
“‘I’m not going to wake you up,'” Carlton recalled telling them. “‘You wake me up and I’m not ever going to say no.’ So (Trey) started doing it. And that became our thing.”
The workouts initially occurred at night, but that was no good. There were high school games the boys wanted to watch, birthday parties to attend, spelling tests the next day. The predawn morning was empty and quiet. It was perfect. As Carlton would say, there wasn’t anyone trying to steal their time.
As they left the gym every morning, the sun up and the morning crowd trickling in, Carlton would turn to his son and tell him the same thing he’d said the day before — and the same thing he’d repeat the next day, too.
“Hey, we outworked someone today. The other guy is still sleeping.”
