One Saturday after a game, I sat on the bench, massaging my calves and rolling my shoulders.
Mark walked over, smirking.
"Dude, are you okay? You look like you just ran a marathon."
I laughed.
"Nah, I just recover like an old man now."
"You always complain about being sore," he said.
"Do you even do anything for recovery?"
"I mean, I stretch," I shrugged.
"Take a hot shower. Maybe a painkiller if it’s really bad."
Mark shook his head and pulled something out of his gym bag.
"Here. Try this."
He handed me a small, curved massage tool.
"It’s a percussion massager," he explained.
"Loosens up your muscles way better than stretching. I use it after every game, and I’m fine the next day."
I looked at it skeptically.
"So, it’s like one of those massage guns?"
"Yeah, but actually powerful," Mark said.
"Just press it on your leg and turn it on."
I figured, why not?