Inside The Complete TurtleTrader with Michael Covel

Main Introduction by Michael Covel:

Welcome to a journey that redefines everything you think you know about trading.
In the early 1980s, a bold bet was made—not in the markets, but on people. Richard Dennis believed that with the right rules, anyone could become a successful trader. His partner, Bill Eckhardt, thought trading success was innate—something you were born with.

To settle this, they launched an experiment. A group of men and women, from all walks of life—an accountant, a security guard, a blackjack player—were trained for just two weeks. Then they were given real money, real markets, and real pressure.

These were the Turtles.

What follows in these conversations isn’t just a breakdown of systems and rules. It’s a window into the deeper battles they faced—against emotion, ego, doubt, and risk. I sat down with the original Turtles to ask the hard questions:
Were great traders born or made? What happens when the system breaks down? How do you kill your ego without killing your edge?

You’ll hear the raw truths—of failure, adaptation, and the often invisible price of consistency.

This isn’t just trading history. It’s a living blueprint for discipline, clarity, and resilience in a world obsessed with quick wins.

 (Note: This is an imaginary conversation, a creative exploration of an idea, and not a real speech or event.)

Topic 1: Can Great Traders Be Created—Or Are They Born That Way?

Moderator: Michael Covel
Participants: Jerry Parker, Liz Cheval, Howard Seidler, Stig Ostgaard, Tom Shanks

Michael Covel:

Richard Dennis believed that trading greatness could be taught—that it wasn’t about instinct or talent but about following rules with discipline. But you all went through the same training, and yet your results were very different. So let me ask you—what do you believe really separates those who succeeded from those who didn’t?

Liz Cheval:
It wasn’t knowledge. We all had access to the same rules and data. The real divide was psychological. Some people couldn’t take the heat. One bad trade and they’d start second-guessing everything. Success came to those who kept going, especially after pain.

Jerry Parker:
For me, it was about belief. The ones who didn’t make it just didn’t believe in the system enough to follow it when it got hard. You can’t teach belief. You can teach the math, the breakouts, the position sizing—but belief? That’s something deeper.

Tom Shanks:
What I saw is that the best traders weren’t gamblers or adrenaline junkies. They were more like monks. Calm. Unshakable. I think some people are just wired for that kind of detachment. Maybe you can train discipline, but temperament? That might be harder.

Howard Seidler:
Discipline wasn’t just doing what the rules said—it was doing it even when every cell in your body screamed not to. When I think of those who failed, I remember guys who said, “Just this once, I’ll skip the trade.” That’s the start of the end.

Stig Ostgaard:
It’s strange, but the winners didn’t look like winners at first. Some of them were quiet, maybe even a little unsure of themselves. But they were consistent. It wasn’t about personality—it was about how well you could kill your ego.

Michael Covel:

That brings us perfectly to my next question. You all had to suppress emotion, doubt, and ego to follow a system blindly—sometimes through terrifying drawdowns. How did you personally handle the emotional side of trading when it contradicted what your gut was screaming?

Stig Ostgaard:
I treated every trade like flipping a coin—but a coin loaded slightly in my favor. Once I did that, emotion had less room to creep in. I reminded myself: this isn’t personal. It’s just data. It’s just math.

Liz Cheval:
I journaled. Every impulse, every fear—I wrote it down. That helped me see my emotions as passing clouds, not commands to obey. Once I got it out of my head, I could follow the system again.

Howard Seidler:
The hardest part was when a string of losing trades made you feel like a fool. I’d ask myself, “What if I’m broken? What if the system doesn’t work anymore?” And every time, I’d go back to the long-term stats. It helped to remember that one trade—or even ten—didn’t define the method.

Tom Shanks:
I think the best thing I did was automate my entries and exits as much as possible. If my computer said go, I went. I treated myself like the weak link in the system—so I removed myself from decision-making whenever I could.

Jerry Parker:
It’s like training for a marathon. The first few miles are easy. But mile 20? That’s when it gets real. Trading is emotional endurance. You don’t beat your feelings—you just outlast them.

Michael Covel:

That endurance is what fascinates me. Because if trading success is less about IQ and more about emotional strength, then let me ask this final question: Can that kind of resilience actually be taught—or is it something you’re born with?

Tom Shanks:
I think you can train for it, just like you train your muscles. But not everyone wants to do that work. Most people want magic, not monotony. Trading is a boring discipline, and most aren’t wired for boredom.

Jerry Parker:
I’ve come to believe it’s both. You need the willingness to suffer small losses without losing your mind. That’s teachable. But you also need the humility to submit to something larger than your own judgment—and that’s rare.

Howard Seidler:
When we were in the training room with Richard, he never said, “Trust yourself.” He said, “Trust the rules.” And that kind of faith can be learned, but only if you’re willing to give up control. That’s what breaks most people—they don’t want to let go.

Stig Ostgaard:
Some people need to touch the stove a hundred times before they learn not to. Others need to touch it once. That’s the difference. The quicker you learn from pain, the better trader you’ll be. And yes, that can be taught—but only if the student is willing to change.

Liz Cheval:
I’ve mentored younger traders, and I can tell you this: the ones who last aren’t the flashy ones. They’re the ones who listen. Not to me—but to the system. If you can teach someone to fall in love with the process instead of the results, you’ve given them a fighting chance.

Michael Covel (final reflection):
It’s clear now: the Turtle experiment wasn’t just about trading—it was a test of character. What Richard Dennis did was more than give you rules. He gave you a mirror. And what you saw in it determined your destiny.

Topic 2: When the System Fails — Should You Ever Break the Rules?

Moderator: Michael Covel
Participants: Jerry Parker, Liz Cheval, Howard Seidler, Stig Ostgaard, Tom Shanks

Michael Covel:

You were all given a system that was supposed to remove emotion and guesswork. But no system is perfect. Markets change. Crashes happen. So let’s start with a hard question—were there times when you felt the system failed you? And if so, how did you respond?

Howard Seidler:
Absolutely. 1987 was a gut check. The crash came fast, and the system didn’t adjust to the panic quick enough. But even then, I followed the rules. I lost money—but not nearly as much as I would have if I’d tried to “outsmart” it. The system didn’t fail. My expectations did.

Liz Cheval:
Yes, there were drawdowns that made me question everything. But the system was never meant to win every month. It was built to win over years. That’s the part most traders forget—it’s a long game. The rules didn’t fail me. My impatience did.

Stig Ostgaard:
I remember when we hit a stretch of sideways markets. No trends, just noise. The system got chopped up, trade after trade. That’s when I questioned it. But looking back, I realize: even a great system bleeds in the wrong environment. You don’t blame a compass for bad weather.

Tom Shanks:
The system “failed” only when I expected it to be perfect. We were taught probabilities, not guarantees. I stuck with it. Every time I thought about overriding the rules, I asked myself, “What if I’m wrong and the rules are right?” That question saved me.

Jerry Parker:
There were moments of deep frustration. Months with nothing but losing trades. But I reminded myself—trend following doesn’t care about comfort. I never once changed the rules. If the system was broken, I figured it was me that was out of sync, not the method.

Michael Covel:

So you all wrestled with doubt—but mostly held the line. Still, I need to press this. Is there ever a legitimate reason to break the rules? Can discretion ever be justified—maybe even necessary?

Stig Ostgaard:
I’d say no. Not because the system is perfect, but because discretion is unpredictable. The moment you introduce subjective judgment, the edge erodes. You start trading on emotion, not data. That’s a slippery slope.

Jerry Parker:
I used to believe there was never a reason to deviate. But as I matured as a trader, I realized something: discretion isn’t evil—it’s dangerous. So I built rules around my discretion. I call them “meta-rules.” For example, if volatility explodes, I may cut position size, but only according to a predefined formula.

Tom Shanks:
I’ve broken the rules—but always regretted it. Every time I overrode an exit signal or skipped an entry because I “felt” it was wrong, I paid for it. So my answer? Use discretion to improve the system—but not to override it in the moment.

Howard Seidler:
The key is distinguishing between tweaking the system after analysis vs. reacting emotionally during a trade. The former is evolution. The latter is sabotage. I’ve learned to log every impulse to override, but rarely act on it.

Liz Cheval:
I don’t see discretion as breaking the rules. I see it as creating better rules. But you do that outside of market hours, with a clear head. If you’re changing things mid-trade, you’re no longer trading—you’re guessing. That’s not the Turtle way.

Michael Covel:

That brings me to my final question: In a world of rapidly changing markets, AI, and black swan events—do rigid systems still work? Or does the future belong to adaptive, hybrid methods?

Jerry Parker:
The core principles still work—trend, breakout, risk control. But the delivery must evolve. I now build systems that are adaptive in nature—still rule-based, but responsive to volatility, market conditions, and regime shifts. Flexibility with discipline—that’s the future.

Stig Ostgaard:
We were trained to find what works and stick with it. That hasn’t changed. What’s changed is the market tempo. Computers are faster. Trends are shorter. But humans still panic, still chase, still fear. That’s the pattern that never changes. So yes—systems still work.

Tom Shanks:
If anything, rigid systems are more essential now. The noise level is insane. AI, Twitter, macro chaos—it’s a mess. A solid system is like a keel that keeps the ship stable. But I’ll admit: smarter execution engines can help reduce friction.

Howard Seidler:
The system has to be as alive as the market. But that doesn’t mean emotional or erratic. It means dynamic—rule-based, but not frozen. I’ve updated my strategies over the years to account for things Richard never could’ve imagined. But the DNA is the same.

Liz Cheval:
To me, it’s like jazz. You need structure—the key, the timing, the chord progression. But within that, you adapt, you improvise. Rigid doesn’t mean robotic. It means grounded. And if your system has a solid foundation, it can dance with the future.

Michael Covel (final reflection):
This isn’t just a debate about trading systems. It’s a deeper question about how we face uncertainty. Rules give us freedom—not from losses, but from chaos. And whether you’re in 1985 or 2025, that freedom is still the edge.

Topic 3: The Invisible Enemy — How Ego Kills Performance

Moderator: Michael Covel
Participants: Jerry Parker, Liz Cheval, Howard Seidler, Stig Ostgaard, Tom Shanks

Michael Covel:

We often hear that ego is a trader’s worst enemy. But ego is tricky—it shows up in subtle ways, especially when you're winning. So let me ask: When in your Turtle journey did you realize your ego might be getting in the way of your performance?

Tom Shanks:
It hit me the first time I ignored an exit signal. I was up huge in a position and thought, “No way this is the top.” I held on—and gave back a big chunk. That loss didn’t just hurt financially. It shattered my illusion of control. That was my ego talking, not my system.

Liz Cheval:
Early success can be dangerous. I had a few monster trades in a row and started feeling invincible. Then came a string of losses, and I panicked. I realized I wasn’t immune—I was just lucky. Ego builds illusions of certainty. The market doesn’t care about your track record.

Howard Seidler:
I remember a month where I outperformed everyone. I thought I had some extra edge, something unique. Then the very next quarter I was in the red. It humbled me. The moment you think you’re special, the market reminds you—you’re not.

Stig Ostgaard:
Ego crept in when I started thinking I could “improve” the system on the fly. I’d skip trades that didn’t “feel right.” But my worst trades were the ones I overthought. The system doesn’t care about your pride. It just reflects your process.

Jerry Parker:
It was subtle for me. I wasn’t showing off or taking wild risks. But I started measuring myself against other Turtles, needing to be the best. That need became a distraction. I had to stop making trading about identity and start making it about execution.

Michael Covel:

Great insights. So if ego is that dangerous, and often invisible, how did you learn to quiet it—especially after big wins or during hot streaks when it was easiest to get cocky?

Liz Cheval:
I set up rituals. After every big win, I’d do something boring—clean my office, cook dinner, walk alone. I needed to come down to earth. No celebrations, no champagne. Just normalcy. That kept me grounded.

Howard Seidler:
For me, it was metrics. I always asked myself: Am I following the rules? Not: Am I making money? When you reframe success around discipline, not outcome, your ego has fewer places to hide.

Stig Ostgaard:
I’d study losing trades more than winning ones. Not to punish myself, but to stay sharp. The winners feed your ego. The losers feed your wisdom. You can’t let one outgrow the other.

Jerry Parker:
I created a “humility tracker.” Every week, I’d log whether I stuck to the rules 100%. If I didn’t, even if I made money, I’d mark it in red. That visual feedback was powerful. It told me when my ego was sneaking into the cockpit.

Tom Shanks:
I learned to talk to myself like a coach, not a fan. After a big win, I’d literally say out loud, “That wasn’t you—it was the system.” Detachment wasn’t automatic. I had to train it like a muscle.

Michael Covel:

Final question—and it cuts deep: If ego is the enemy, and discipline the ally, then how do you balance self-confidence with humility? Because you still have to believe in yourself to keep trading. So where’s the line?

Howard Seidler:
Confidence comes from process. I don’t trust myself—I trust my preparation. That’s the line. Humility isn’t weakness—it’s awareness of limits. Confidence is saying, “I’ve done the work.” Ego is saying, “I can’t lose.”

Jerry Parker:
I think about confidence like a thermostat. Too cold, and you hesitate. Too hot, and you overheat. The key is staying in the range where confidence fuels action—but doesn’t blind you to risk. That’s why I review losses weekly. It resets the dial.

Tom Shanks:
Humility is knowing you’re not in control of outcomes—only your actions. Confidence is trusting your ability to act right. The market isn’t personal. It’s not judging you. Once I internalized that, I could trade with conviction and humility.

Stig Ostgaard:
I had to stop thinking in terms of being “right.” That’s where ego thrives. I reframed every trade as just a probability play. Once I did that, confidence came from repetition. Humility came from knowing I’d still be wrong often.

Liz Cheval:
I used to think humility meant being quiet or soft-spoken. Now I think it means being honest—with yourself. I can look at a losing month and say, “I did everything right.” That’s humble confidence. It’s not about bravado. It’s about clarity.

Michael Covel (final reflection):
What you’ve all said echoes a truth deeper than trading: ego feeds illusion, while humility fuels mastery. The real edge in the market isn’t just the system—it’s the ability to get out of your own way. And that’s a battle you fight every day.

Topic 4: Risk Is Not a Number — It’s a Relationship

Moderator: Michael Covel
Participants: Jerry Parker, Liz Cheval, Howard Seidler, Stig Ostgaard, Tom Shanks

Michael Covel:

On paper, risk looks like a clean calculation—ATR, position size, percent of capital. But in practice, risk feels personal. Some traders flinch at a 5% drawdown. Others can stomach 20% and still sleep. So let’s start here—how did you come to understand your own relationship with risk beyond just the math?

Stig Ostgaard:
Risk was never just about numbers for me—it was about tolerance for uncertainty. I remember staring at positions that were perfectly within my limits but still made my stomach turn. That taught me something: risk is emotional first, mathematical second.

Liz Cheval:
I tracked how I felt about my trades as much as how they performed. I noticed that even when the rules said a trade was safe, if I didn’t feel right about it, I hesitated. So I worked to align my psychology with the math. I had to train myself to trust the system emotionally, not just intellectually.

Jerry Parker:
Richard taught us to see risk as part of the terrain, not the enemy. I accepted early on that I’d face drawdowns, and I reframed them: they weren’t failure—they were rent I paid for long-term returns. Once I stopped resisting risk, I could manage it.

Howard Seidler:
When I looked at my worst losses, they came not from poor risk calculation—but from emotional shortcuts. Risk is a mirror. It shows you where your beliefs break down. You learn what risk really means when you feel it, not when you model it.

Tom Shanks:
My turning point came when I realized risk is not about avoiding pain—it’s about surviving it. I used to dread volatility. Now, I see it as opportunity. But that change didn’t come from math. It came from losing and still choosing to play again.

Michael Covel:

Fascinating. So if risk is both math and mindset, I want to ask—what specific strategies or rituals did you use to keep your relationship with risk healthy, especially during drawdowns or market shocks?

Jerry Parker:
I had a rule: never look at daily P&L during a drawdown. I focused on whether I was following the system. That ritual saved me from panicking myself out of positions. Risk only becomes unbearable when you obsess over it.

Tom Shanks:
I visualized loss. Before placing a trade, I’d imagine losing the full 2%—feel the sting of it—and then ask, “Still willing to take it?” If yes, I executed. If not, I reduced size or walked away. That honesty kept me grounded.

Liz Cheval:
I kept a “drawdown journal.” Whenever my equity curve dipped, I’d document my thoughts—not about the market, but about my mindset. That helped me track emotional risk and pattern my triggers. Risk became less mysterious when I could see its psychological footprints.

Howard Seidler:
I reviewed historical trades during bad runs. Seeing proof that the system worked through pain helped keep me steady. It’s one thing to know trend following works—it’s another to remember it when you’re bleeding. Data anchored me.

Stig Ostgaard:
I scheduled “no trading” days during periods of extreme stress. Not because the system said so—but because I needed a pause to reset. Risk management isn’t just about stops—it’s also about knowing when you are the risk.

Michael Covel:

That leads me to my last question: how did your understanding of risk evolve as you matured—not just as traders, but as people? Did risk mean something different to you later in your career than it did when you started?

Howard Seidler:
Absolutely. In the beginning, risk felt like fire—it was dangerous, scary, and exciting. Now I see it more like wind. Invisible, always present, sometimes gentle, sometimes fierce. It’s a force to respect, not fear. Maturity gave me that balance.

Jerry Parker:
Early on, I wanted to win. That’s how I saw risk—something to conquer. Over time, I realized the goal isn’t winning—it’s lasting. My relationship with risk shifted from ambition to stewardship. It became about protecting the process.

Liz Cheval:
When I was younger, I feared being wrong more than I feared losing money. Now I fear losing clarity. Risk isn’t just external—it's internal. It’s the risk of delusion, of pride, of distraction. My evolution was about learning to manage those risks too.

Stig Ostgaard:
I came to view risk as a teacher. Every painful trade carried a lesson about myself—my fears, my impatience, my need for control. Risk matured me not just as a trader, but as a human. It showed me where I was still clinging.

Tom Shanks:
You grow when you stop chasing certainty. I used to think I could find the “safe” trade. Now I know there’s no such thing. All we can do is manage exposure and keep walking forward. My respect for risk deepened with each scar.

Michael Covel (final reflection):
What you’ve revealed is that risk isn’t just part of the trading equation—it is the equation. And the better you know your relationship with it, the clearer your trading becomes. Risk doesn’t just test your system—it tests your soul.

Topic 5: The Death of Discretion — Is System Trading the Future of Investing?

Moderator: Michael Covel
Participants: Jerry Parker, Liz Cheval, Howard Seidler, Stig Ostgaard, Tom Shanks

Michael Covel:

The Turtle experiment was revolutionary because it replaced gut feeling with strict rules. But today, the markets are full of quant models, HFTs, AI, and neural networks. So let’s start here—do you believe discretionary human traders still have a place in the modern markets, or has the system trader won?

Jerry Parker:
System traders still have the edge—but only if they evolve. Discretionary traders are more vulnerable than ever. The speed and complexity of today’s markets punish hesitation. That said, system traders can still outperform if they stick to timeless principles: trend, risk control, consistency.

Liz Cheval:
I think the “death of discretion” is a myth. There’s a place for it, but it’s shrinking. Most of what people call discretionary trading is just emotion. And emotion doesn’t scale. Rule-based strategies still offer the only reliable long-term edge, especially for non-institutional traders.

Tom Shanks:
Discretion will always exist—but not as an edge. It’s what happens when the system breaks down or isn’t fully trusted. The future belongs to systems. But systems built with insight. Humans can still design better systems—but they shouldn’t execute trades by hand anymore.

Stig Ostgaard:
We were the original “human bots.” We executed rules like code. That’s still a competitive approach. Markets change, but human psychology doesn’t. Trends still happen. Volatility still expands and contracts. The edge is adapting the rules, not abandoning them.

Howard Seidler:
The world has changed, but the foundational truths haven’t. Whether it’s 1985 or 2025, someone is over-leveraged, someone’s chasing price, and someone’s panicking. System traders exploit those behaviors. The delivery changes—cloud, algorithm, AI—but the core edge remains timeless.

Michael Covel:

Interesting. So now let’s talk edge. With thousands of bots and funds running similar strategies, how do you maintain a unique advantage as a system trader without falling into the trap of becoming just another number-crunching algorithm?

Stig Ostgaard:
Edge comes from how you apply the rules. Everyone might use breakouts—but who uses them with real discipline? Who sizes their trades correctly? Who survives the chop? Execution and risk management create edge—even in “crowded” strategies.

Jerry Parker:
I keep my edge by staying old-school. I don’t optimize to death. I don’t curve fit. I use robust, boring principles that worked in the 1970s and still work today. Most quants chase complexity. I chase simplicity and stay consistent. That’s rare—and profitable.

Liz Cheval:
Edge now is behavioral. Most traders—even algorithmic ones—underrate how emotionally unstable markets are. I’ve built systems that respond not just to price, but to behavior patterns—false breakouts, news-driven volatility, risk-on/risk-off swings. That’s where modern edge lives.

Tom Shanks:
I adapted my systems to trade across uncorrelated assets. When everyone’s focused on S&P or Bitcoin, I’m trading lumber, palladium, or obscure FX pairs. My edge is where others aren’t looking. Being systematic doesn’t mean being predictable.

Howard Seidler:
I focus on longevity. Most traders chase short-term alpha and burn out. My systems are built for survival, not glory. That means small edges, low leverage, and brutal honesty. The edge is staying in the game long after others crash and quit.

Michael Covel:

Final question—and it’s philosophical: Do you think the rise of system trading is improving the markets—or sterilizing them? Are we creating better investors, or just better machines?

Liz Cheval:
We’re creating clearer investors. The market is more efficient in some ways—but also more fragile. System trading reduces noise, but it also amplifies panic when systems are too correlated. The human element may be flawed, but it adds friction—and sometimes friction is healthy.

Tom Shanks:
I think system trading is a gift—if it’s used with integrity. The danger is pretending the machine is perfect. It’s not. But it is more consistent, more scalable, and less ego-driven than human discretion. That’s progress—so long as we stay humble.

Howard Seidler:
Markets aren’t better or worse—they’re just faster. System trading hasn’t killed the art of trading. It’s just redefined the tools. The human still matters—but only as a designer, not a guesser. The machines are our extension—not our replacement.

Stig Ostgaard:
The future belongs to systems plus insight. Data without wisdom is noise. But wisdom without systems is ego. The best trading minds today are merging both. If that’s the future—then yes, it’s better.

Jerry Parker:
I think it’s a mistake to say system trading is cold or mechanical. My systems reflect decades of experience, pain, learning. They’re not just code—they’re me. We’re not removing the human—we’re refining it. That’s the real evolution.

Michael Covel (final reflection):
What I’ve heard today is this: system trading isn’t the end of human insight—it’s the beginning of a new kind of discipline. The Turtle legacy wasn’t just about rules. It was about rethinking what it means to trade with intelligence, patience, and clarity.

Final Thoughts by Michael Covel

After all these years, the question still echoes:
Can trading be taught?

The answer isn’t a simple yes or no.

The Turtles didn’t just memorize charts or formulas. They learned how to become traders—how to let go of control, surrender to the process, and trade what is, not what should be. And those who thrived didn’t just follow rules. They built a relationship with uncertainty.

System trading may seem cold to outsiders. It’s not. It’s one of the most brutally honest disciplines there is. It forces you to face yourself, to recognize your biases, to walk away from the need to be right.

And that’s what made the Turtle experiment so profound.

It wasn’t a system that made these traders great.

It was who they chose to become in service of that system.

If there's a legacy here, it's not just in returns or rules. It's in the radical idea that ordinary people—with belief, humility, and ironclad discipline—can do extraordinary things.

The market still moves. Trends still rise and fall.

The only question left is: Who will have the discipline to ride them?

Short Bios:

Michael Covel is a bestselling author and trading educator known for his books The Complete TurtleTrader and Trend Following. He has interviewed hundreds of top traders and manages one of the most downloaded financial podcasts in the world.

Jerry Parker is the founder of Chesapeake Capital and one of the most successful original Turtle Traders. He’s known for adapting the Turtle rules into a long-term trend-following system still in use today.

Liz Cheval (1963–2013) was a respected commodities trader and hedge fund manager. As one of the few women in the Turtle experiment, she proved that discipline, not background, determines success.

Howard Seidler went on to found Saxon Investment Corporation, managing hundreds of millions. He was known for his relentless discipline and strict adherence to the Turtle rules.

Stig Ostgaard was among the most profitable Turtles, posting triple-digit returns in multiple years. He later became a portfolio manager for leading firms, applying trend-following principles across global markets.

Tom Shanks became a private trader after the Turtle program and has spoken candidly about the psychological discipline required to succeed with a systematic strategy.