Fifteen years ago when we first threw out our pogo sticks and cursed our parents for the years of useless training and self-worth decimating coaching, we never thought we'd miss bouncing up and down on a big pole this much.
Well, we can't hate on this guy for sticking with the training and really getting something out of pogo, unless he's one of those damn bastard prodigies who never had to go to a day of practice. Then we can hate on him looooong time. Anyway, even though we'll probably never match this highly trained athlete's grace and form when it comes to bouncing up and down on stuff, is it our fault that we've never been able to commit to anything? We can't even settle on a singular identity!