CHARLOTTE, N.C. — The training center has a warehouse feel, with exposed ductwork and cinder block walls. Box fans are blowing on a midsummer's day, but the thick air does not seem to move.
Steve Smith Sr. wears a cotton hoodie soaked through with sweat, and his skin looks like it's slathered in baby oil. In between most sets, he bends over, hands on knees. After one set, he lies on his back on the floor.
Time to go again—one-legged jumps on black Styrofoam blocks. He gets about halfway through the set and abruptly stops. He gives his trainer a look and walks swiftly out the open garage door, onto the dock.