A five-year plan helped a dream come true

At 24, Jordin Ramirez (l) has accomplished each goal he laid out for himself in a five-year plan when he was 19. Now he’s hungry for more.

LAS VEGAS — Sitting in an interview with a local government entity in 2000, I was asked one simple question: "Where do you see yourself in five years?"

I've never been one to plan out five hours, let alone five years. Spur of the moment kind of guy is what I've always been. Quick trips to California in the ‘80s and early 90s were my thing. Last-minute plans for anything and everything. Jumping from job to job to whatever seemed fun and interesting, and whatever brought in quick cash.

A five-year plan, are you kidding me?

The answer, nonetheless, was simple.

I looked across at a panel that had as much personality as a parole board and said whatever it was I'd be doing in five years, I'd be highly successful at it because my goal was to be the best single father I could be. I didn't care if I went back to writing, or was serving as a publicity specialist in some manner, I'd be the best employee because I had no choice.

That was an every-year plan for me, raising my son Jordin, who was 4 years old when I delivered that answer.

Amazing that some 16 years later, Jordin, at 19, had his life planned out - five-year plan and all.

When I was 19, I was running around Las Vegas, trying to find myself to decide how much I'd become vested in the journalism field while bouncing in and out of three or four nightclubs at least four times a week. Sitting in that interview at 30, I still didn't have a plan, other than parenthood.

Jordin was determined.

And it wasn't just any old "this is what I want to do in five years" type of thing. Jordin had it mapped out, year by year, how things would take place, what he would accomplish en route to the ultimate goal he continually called "2020 Vision."

It became a hashtag - #2020Vision - and an ongoing mantra.

He knew then that if he didn't build his own dream, he'd continue to work for others, helping them build theirs.

SOLID GOLD

The first time I walked inside Desert Sun Tae Kwon Do, circa 1998, I was impressed by the lessons being taught and conversations I had with parents whose kids were on a mat kicking and punching one another viciously for two minutes before hugging it out afterward.

I was working for a local newspaper and Desert Sun owner Master Michael Evans told me he had a story idea for me. He introduced me to Olympic-style Tae Kwon Do, showed me around his studio and explained to me how his way of teaching wasn't the same as "fast-food martial arts," but rather instruction that was parallel to life lessons. He told me what he was teaching the elementary-school children would stick with them the rest of their lives if they took everything they could from his classes.

I wrote two stories on his studio and told him I'd be back when Jordin was 5 years old. He said if he had a $1 every time he heard that, he'd retire, but assured me he'd be there.

He was, and Jordin began training in November 2001, two months before turning 6. Four months later he was a state champion. Ten months later he'd been to five tournaments and was draped in gold, winning first place at every stop.

Jordin Ramirez went undefeated (5-0) in sparring the first year he ever competed in Olympic-style Tae Kwon Do, winning tournaments in Las Vegas and California in March, May, June, August and September of 2002.

He was hooked, as was I, and the first long-term goal put in front of him was in place. He wanted his first-degree black belt. And not just any black belt; one sanctioned by the Kukkiwon, also known as World Taekwondo Headquarters, and home of the World Taekwondo Academy in South Korea.

Again, this wasn't a shopping plaza-storefront-franchise people can invest in and follow a sales script, then upgrade kids from regular student, to the black belt club, to the master's club, all while tuition increases and parents get locked into a binding contract. Oh, and by the way, you can test for black belt in two years.

Jordin needed seven years to get his black belt in a test that lasted from 7 a.m. through 5 p.m. on a Saturday, an exam that ended with him having to put his hands, elbows, and feet through 12 boards successively.

Through the journey he competed in 31 tournaments from 2002-06, and produced an overall sparring record of 35-18 while earning 14 gold medals, 10 silver and two bronze. Add another 25 or so medals for Poomsae (forms), a pattern of defense-and-attack forms against an imaginary opponent. His first year at Junior Olympics, which is sanctioned by the Olympic committee in Colorado Springs, he took the bronze medal home after competing against 31 others. It was rare Jordin didn't win gold in forms; he'd mastered his craft in that department.

Never did I imagine that same journey would play out eerily similar in an eventual five-year plan that would sculpt his future. From the intense training, to the meal prepping - before social media made it a trendy thing to do - to the goals and accomplishments while striving toward the ultimate prize.

Neither of us realized it at the time, but Jordin not only earned his black belt as a martial artist, but his genetic code was also embedded with purpose.

I GOT YOUR BACK

Standing in the kitchen of a home we were renting, Jordin was 19 years old, a freshman at UNLV and a certified personal trainer.

Hesitantly, he asked, "You got my back Pops?"

Silly question, considering we'd been a team since 1996, when he first arrived at University Medical Center. His mother and I split the week of his birthday and we co-parented the rest of the way. We could write a book on how it's done properly, and cohesively.

Why would I not have his back?

My first thought? "I sure hope he didn't get that girl pregnant."

It's not as if it was a serious relationship, anyway; call it a fling. He was busy juggling the pursuit of a degree in kinesiology, was just starting his bodybuilding career, and was serving as a personal trainer at Las Vegas Athletic Club.

His days were filled from top to bottom, going to UNLV for a full slate and keeping his lifting splits going, all while mixing in six-hour shifts three days a week to pay for his membership and trainer's rent at LVAC. Last thing he needed then was a pregnant girl he wasn't serious about.

It wasn't why he needed me to have his back.

Jordin spent the first week of the second semester of his freshman year in the library, rather than his classes, writing down goals for the next five years. How he wanted to build his brand - chock full of personal training, apparel, and a healthy line of seasonings - how and when he was going to win at least two specific bodybuilding titles, and the culmination of the blueprint that would shape his life.

"I dropped all of my classes. I'm done with school," he said. "It's not for me. I'm too focused on my business. I know what I want to do."

I got up from the couch, walked over, gave him one of those homie-type dap-and-hug embraces and told him I had his back.

2020 VISION

I've never met Jon Gruden. But I've asked him several questions during Zoom press conferences during the Raiders' inaugural season in Las Vegas.

I have met Deuce Gruden, the coach's powerlifting son who is an assistant strength and conditioning assistant with the Raiders.

Imagine being able to work alongside your son after watching him grow into a young man chasing goals and accomplishing them.

Jon doesn't know it, but we have something in common.

"It’s been a real special time for me," Jon Gruden said, answering my question on Nov. 16 during one of those Zoom sessions with the media. "Proud of my son. He has great enthusiasm. I think he works well with the players. He’s being led by A.J. Neibel, one of the great strength coaches in football. So, it’s been a great experience."

Said Deuce, personally to me: "I wouldn’t trade it for the world."

Neither would I.

Has Jordin had my support in many facets since the day he stood in the kitchen hoping I wouldn't flip out over dropping out of college? Of course. But mostly when he's needed it.

The drive and determination for each accomplishment, every step of the way toward his 2020 vision - that falls on him.

He said he wanted to grow his brand of personal training and sell apparel and seasonings to enhance exposure the first couple of years of his five-year plan. He did that, eventually quitting LVAC and paid rent to private facilities so he could come and go as he pleased.

He told local columnist Ed Graney in a November 2016 interview he was ready to win a pro card and a bodybuilding title under the Musclemania brand, goals he wanted to accomplish by the time he was 21. Eleven months after that interview, he won a pro card in classic physique. One month later he was crowned Musclemania's 2017 Jr. Bodybuilding Champion of the World.

He was 21.

Part of Jordin Ramirez’s five-year plan was winning a pro card and bodybuilding title by the age of 21. In October 2017, at 21, he won his pro card in classic physique. One month later he was crowned Musclemania’s Jr. Bodybuilding Champion of the World.

Only one thing left to accomplish in that five-year plan, the vision for 2020, which he also told Graney. He wanted to open his own gym. A private training facility where he could "change lives," as he puts it. He wanted his brand - perFIcT - emblazoned atop a building, and to have a place he not only could say he owned, but a brand he could say he built on his own.

Less than a month ago Jordin received the keys to a facility now under transformation and that will be ready for the public in early 2021.

It's hard to put into words the pride I wake up with daily, in a house currently littered with the fifth drop of perFIcT apparel, also coming in 2021, after watching my son execute the five-year plan. But it's also no surprise to hear what Jordin has to say when asked to reflect on his journey.

"Wherever I was four or five years ago, thinking of this moment today, I'm in that moment again now thinking about five years from now," he said recently. "There's not really time to sit there and reflect on what's already been done. I can appreciate where I am and I can be grateful for where I am, but I’m just more focused on getting tomorrow's work done."

Sounds like a(nother) plan to me.