Look alive, Junior – I’m Izzy Mandelbaum, personal trainer to the stars, and I’m here to talk to you tubby turkies about physical fitness. You might remember me sticking it to that no-talent chucklehead Jerry Seinfeld. Now I’m sticking it to Major League Baseball, and they never had it so good. See that picture up there? That was me last week in the Keys hunting Great Whites. I’m 94 years old, and I run 10 miles every day before breakfast, and then I do 1000 push-ups. One-handed. With no break – cool downs are for Girl Scouts. And then I hit the gym for some cardio and weights. And then I run another 10 miles before I go to bed. Don’t talk to me about Jack Lalanne. Jack Lalanne is a pansy. You think he knows fitness? I betcha that butterball couldn’t pick up a cellphone without a forklift. That’s why I was hired by the San Francisco Giants, and that old flapper’s wrappin’ his gums around some strained peas. Don’t forget to change the colostomy bag, Jackie boy.

You hear all this mumbo jumbo about steroids and weight gainers and B-12 shots. Save that hogwash for the science fiction stories, Junior. I’m about natural fitness the way God intended, and that involves pain, something kids today just don’t get. I was raised in the shadow of WWI and Nazi Germany. Those are times that’ll test a man’s intestinal fortitude, and they made the US the envy of the world. Back then, life was good. The air was clean. Food was fresh. Bread was white. And you didn’t have all these drug addicts running around in Hollywood like a bunch of jackrabbits humping everything in sight. But nowadays, with your fancy Internet and your TV sets and your rock and roll music and your fancy-pants Cibula bread, no one knows the first thing about being a man. Well, I’m here to set you little pantywaists straight. It’s go time.

Let me tell you what I have these Fatty Arbuckles on the Giants doing every day. I start them off with windsprints. For a full hour. Carrying cement blocks. Feel that burn, Matheney? That’s all those Twinkies finally turning into muscle. Then I start with the medicine ball. I get those guys like Vizquel and Fassero tossing that thing back and forth at sixty feet. In another few years, they might be able to see their feet when they bend over to tie their shoes. If their pants don’t split. Then it’s time for something I like to call Grandpa’s Miracle Wonder Tonic Juice – it’s a mix of castor oil, egg white, garlic powder, some anise extract, and a secret Mandelbaum ingrediant I ain’t sharing with you loose lipped ratfinks. Took these spoiled little starlets a few weeks before they got over the gag reflex, but now they choke it down and ask for seconds. Hell, Moises asks for thirds!

That kid’s got spunk, lemme tell you. People give Moises a lot of grief for the whole peeing on the hands thing, but I respect him for that. It might seem like a weird radical thing to a lot of you highfalutin’ sushi-eating latte-sippers, but frankly I don’t think he goes far enough. Lemme tell you about Stan Musial, who we used to call “Ol’ Scat-N-Spit” … nah, you’re not men enough to hear that story. Maybe some other time when the backs of your ears ain’t greener than a policeman’s pizzle.

As for that other fancy Dan on the team – you know, the one with the big fancy chair and all the big fancy homeruns – it ain’t no surprise he’s all talk. He’s trying to tell me that Barry doesn’t need ol’ Izzy telling him what to do like he’s not talking about himself. And I tell him I ain’t takin’ that guff from some no-talent sticky johnson unless he can prove that he’s got what it takes. So I tell him, you think you’re better than me, you do more squat thrusts than me, and you can stick your can in a crock pot if you want. And that pansy didn’t even get to 500 before his knee gave out. Boo-hoo, Mrs. Bonds. And then he uses that as an excuse to miss a few spring training games. Lemme tell you – Mickey Mantle didn’t even have two legs to stand on for most of his career. He got shanked by some drain grate in centerfield, turned his knee into matzoh ball soup, and only went on to become a Hall of Fame player. That Bonds guy couldn’t fetch Mick’s ice if he was behind the bar and wearing a bowtie. And folks wonder why no one watches baseball any more.

Izzy Mandelbaum is the co-founder of Magic Pan Restaurants. His newest book – Dentures Are For Dandies – will be published by Pendant Publishing in January 2007.