Silent Strong Type

Orlando Sentinel 6-27-99, by Javier Solano

An impossibility? Minns won't hear of it.
Late-night channel surfers may remember the face from an old fitness infomercial. Most of them cannot relate to the body, chiseled in that perfect place between good shape and too muscular.

As if they could look like Brad Minns with Nordic Flex.

That exercise machine has been discontinued, but Minns keeps going, adding tennis clippings and magazine covers to his wall of frames. His Apopka apartment is like a shrine to what's possible, including all five Rocky movies on tape, a recent birthday present from his girlfriend. Rocky was a nobody who became somebody, too. All he needed was a shot.

Now age 34, Minns appears to have it all: blue eyes, a statue's body (6 feet, 185 pounds), an impossibly positive personality, extreme confidence and several careers. He is a tennis instructor, fitness trainer, motivational speaker, part-time actor and the Nordic Flex guy.

"Everything Brad touches turns to gold," said Jamie McElfresh, his former Dresse Cup teammate.

He has everything except his hearing, lost to nerve damage from a high fever at age 3. It hasn't stopped him on the tennis court, where Minns is a teaching pro at Sanlando and the top ranked deaf player in the nation. The U.S. defends its world title this week in Italy at the Dresse Cup, a 12-nation tournament otherwise known as the Davis Cup for the deaf.

It hasn't stopped him from building a portfolio either. Besides the Nordic Flex campaign, probably his biggest credit, Minns has modeled for Nike and Structure, covered a few fitness magazines and appeared in many underwear / swimwear ads. Playgirl wanted him to pose, but he declined.

Photographer Susan Lindsey had worked with many women but never a male model, certainly not a deaf one. Minns put her at ease right away. His lip reading skills are so advanced, he never had much use for sign language. And his personality is so non-threatening. Lindsey remembers him asking to cut short a photo shoot once so he could go to church.

"Even though he can't hear me say something, it doesn't matter," said Lindsey, an Apopka resident. "When the lights go on, he just moves into another position. And it's always a great position. You just can't take a bad shot of this guy. He's so easy to work with."

Growing up in Toledo, Ohio, Minns was bred to blend in, not stick out. He did that on his own later, with much thanks to his family. His parents, Jim and Fran, insisted that Minns learn to lip-read and speak, sending him to speech therapy instead of signing classes. He went to school in the hearing world.

It was not always easy. His first hearing aide was a big square box with wires. In the hearing world, especially in a classroom or playground, that's a pretty conspicuous device.

"I went to the same school system as everybody else," Minns said, "Of course it was hard, because sometimes the teacher would have their back turned to me and I couldn't read their lips. Or when it gets to group discussions, it's difficult to pick up everything that's going on."

Minns grew up between two worlds, silence and sound. With his hearing aides, he can hear muffled noises like the crack of overhead smash and the hum of conversation but not enough to make out the words.

There is no division line at the Dresse Cup, where all the competitors check their hearing aides at the door.

"It's complete silence," Minns said.

It is a strange sensation, like playing in a vacuum. It takes Minns a few minutes to adjust to running without audible footsteps, hitting without resonance and playing to silent cheers from the hand-gesturing, flag waving crowd.

Minns wins gold at Games
But Minns is adaptable, if nothing else. He has played Dresse Cup three times, leading the U.S. to its first title in 35 years in 1995. He also has been to three World Games for the Deaf, medalling each time.

That includes a gold medal on his first try, beating Jeff Osborne in five sets of the 1985 singles final. Minns calls it the best match of his life, and the clipping is framed on his apartment wall. He had dropped the first two sets to Osborne and trailed 0-5 in the third.

"That was as far down as you could possibly get." Minns said. "You've just got to hang in there. Things can change. You never know what's going to happen."

It's a lesson he learned early. Tennis did not come naturally to Minns. Like everything else, he had to work hard at it. His parents introduced him to the game at age 6 with lessons, but he could not hear the instructors.

His big brother Jim, three years older and a strong player, came to the rescue. He became his tennis tutor, giving Minns the one-on-one attention and patience that was required.

"I was a terrible player," Minns said, "Couldn't hit the ball back."

He describes his junior career as one Ohio road trip after another, driving to Cincinnati or Cleveland with his family and then coming home empty handed from another loss. What's the point , he wondered.

Then he won his first tournament, at age 13.

"I got this trophy, and it was like, 'Wow, I can actually win at this game,'" Minns said, "And that was a big boost for my confidence."

Not coincidentally, Minns started lifting at age 13. Where tennis had been a struggle, bodybuilding became an instant release. Minns had a picture in his mind of how he wanted to look, probably something similar to the build he has now.

The first trip to the gym hooked Minns and ultimately provided a different career opportunity. He continued to develop and amaze in tennis, holding the No. 1 singles spot at Sylvania High (Ohio) and then the University of Toledo, where he walked on. He continued to develop his body, too.

In 1989, two years removed from college and still living in Toledo, Minns took up modeling.

"An old girlfriend of mine suggested I go to an agency and get some pictures taken," Minns said. "So I built my portfolio up. I was doing a lot of fashion shows up for all the department stores, country clubs, hotels, things like that."

Minns honed his acting skills at the Toledo Repertoire Theater and then the John Powers School of Modeling in Detroit before moving to Miami to build his Portfolio.

Juggling act tough
He moved to the Orlando area six years ago, lured by the mild weather. He has been balancing careers ever since, including a stint as national spokesperson for Experimental and Applied Sciences nutritional supplements after winning the EAS bodybuilding contest in 1995.

It is a difficult juggling act, and modeling/acting jobs are scarce, given his time constraints. Minns is the kind of person, however, that inspires others to help or at least give him a chance. His can-do attitude is positively infectious.

"He's so genuine, so unique, so exceptional," said consultant Linda Schiffer, an Apopka neighbor who became a part-time publicist for Minns. "He keeps telling me, 'I'm going to pay you someday when I'm rich and famous.' I'd say, 'Brad, don't worry about it. This is for you.'"

As an instructor, Minns hopes to pass the game on to other deaf children. Maybe they can someday experience the World Games or Dresse Cup., obscure tournaments in the hearing world but the pinnacle for the deaf.

As a player, Minns dreams about a national ranking in the over-35s and taking his game to the Senior Tour. If tennis' masters circuit expands and develops an open qualifier in the future, why not Minns-Conners?

Music poses no barrier
Those who know Minns put nothing past him. Even so, driving through his apartment complex, Minns draws an occasional double-take from his neighbors, who swear they heard him singing to the car stereo. What, he's reading lips on the radio now?

Actually, video captions on MTV deserve partial credit along with lyrics from his favorite songs, from the Beach Boys or Olivia Newton-John. He listened to the muted noise as best he could, read his brother's lips while he sang and eventually matched the music with the words, memorizing them together.

Minns prefers music without words, citing instrumental and classical as his favorites. He has read so much about the negative content of todays lyrics. Minns figures he may not be missing much.

"Most of the deaf people that I've known are just so friendly," Minns said. "I don't know if it's because they don't hear all the negativity from the music or whatever. Everybody's just so personable."

That much he shares in common with his peers at Dresse Cup. He can't always follow their conversation. Signing is like any other language. The fluent speak quickly, and Minns knows only the basics. But they share the same positive topspin on life.

The deaf are challenged, not disabled. And if Minns has a disability or any other blemish, it doesn't show.
 

 

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