The decision that changed my life

Preliminary final. Salisbury Inter versus Adelaide City. Two goals down, thirty minutes in. The ball’s being crossed in by one of the Adelaide City attackers, I’m tracking back towards our goal with a player on my right. The ball comes across the face of the goal. The keeper can’t get there. I make a decision that will change my life for the rest of my life - I decide to stop the goal. I lunge. My right foot makes contact, clearing the ball out of the six yard box and denying their player a chance to nearly seal the game. But my left leg? Stuck in the turf. And I hear it. I feel it. I know. The most dreaded three-letter acronym in an athlete’s vocabulary: ACL. I scream in anguish. Not because of the pain, but because of the reality. It’s my fucking knee. I’ve done my fucking knee…again.

Scans and a doctor’s appointment three days later confirmed what I already knew. What any athlete knows when they hear that pop. A completely ruptured anterior cruciate ligament. Twelve months on the sidelines. Rehab every day. And a constant psychological battle to one day hope to get back to playing at the level you once were. But mine isn’t as simple as that. It’s not just an acl to me; it’s my third. And this third one might just be the end of my playing career.

I keep asking myself, where did I go wrong? What could I have done differently? How has this happened to me, not once, not twice, but three times? What is wrong with me? Was I never supposed to pursue soccer? Have I been trying to make something happen in my life that was never intended for me? And this is the universe’s sick fucking way of telling me? Or is this all a “test” – a test to see how much I want it. A test to change my fundamental beliefs about what it means to be successful and how to go about achieving it. Whatever it is, it’s fucked. And I don’t want any part of it.

Ask me how I’m feeling and I couldn’t tell you. I can’t answer that question without tears streaming down my face, the reality of my situation looming: I’m done. I will never play soccer again. I will never accomplish what I’ve devoted my entire life to accomplishing: playing professionally. And what’s worse, what I’m so fucking scared of, is that I’m scared I will be bitter and resentful about my life and my decisions for the rest of my life. But can you really blame me?

People’s condolences all whisper a similar theme: you don’t deserve this…you’ve worked so hard. And you know what? I did work fucking hard. I devoted myself to strength and conditioning. To injury prevention. To changing my mindset. To looking after my body with what I ate and drank. And guess what? None of it fucking mattered. Because I’m still in the situation I’m in, a third ruptured acl later, despite doing everything “science” says you should be doing.

I was so convinced at the start of last year that I had uncovered the reasoning behind repeat injuries – subconscious, self-limiting beliefs. So I ventured out to change it. And I did. I focused my attention on being healthy and changed my energy to replicate that of someone who doesn’t worry about injuries. And for two years, it seemed to work. So why now? Why again? Have I not learnt the lesson I needed to learn? Is the lesson I needed to learn to give it all up? Accept that some dreams can’t be achieved, no matter how badly you want them? No matter what bullshit Disney preaches to us about dreams coming true? Is that my lesson?

I’m distraught. Livid. Devastated. Heartbroken. Shattered. Whatever feeling you’d associate with someone having their dreams ripped from them, chances are I’m feeling it. But it’s more than that. I’m angry. So fucking angry. Angry at the world. Angry at the universe. Angry at my fucking self. Just last week I had asked the universe for a sign about what I should do regarding soccer – do I continue trying to pursue playing professionally or just let that dream go and play for fun? And how does she answer? With this. With a very real and pressing prospect of never playing soccer again. But maybe that’s what was meant for me all along. These struggles, adversities, setbacks – they were all intended for me because soccer was never my journey. My writing was. My pain was. To relate to those not who’ve made it – the success stories that everyone seems to fucking buy in the bookstore, but to write something that applies to the 90% of us who don’t “make it”. To offer feelings of validation and of normalcy through my words. The words that I’m not afraid to write, but that I feel so vividly. The jealousy of others. Of their achievements. Of their successes. The resentment towards coaches that have prevented me from achieving my goal. The regret for believing the bullshit fantasies of my childhood. The anger towards myself for being convinced hard work might actually pay off in the long run. Because it hasn’t. And realistically now, it probably never will.

So where to from here? Surgery, or no surgery? Soccer, or no soccer? Can I accept never achieving my lifelong dream? Or will this be the point in my life where instead of love and compassion for others, I’m filled with bitterness and resentment? Is there any point in repairing my knee? Or should I just say fuck it and retire?

I can’t go through this again. Not now. Not after the last one almost killed me, literally. And not after it almost broke my family. I know what the rehab requires. And I don’t want it. I don’t want my life to be bound by my fucking knee for the next year…again. No travel. No sport. Nothing but the emotionally taxing rehab. And then the fear. The fucking fear. How can I ever recover from this and not fear doing it again? A fear that is very much warranted. At what point do you stop? Do you listen to what the universe is loudly and clearly telling you – that you were never going to make it? It’s like a sick fucking cycle – I start playing at my peak, finally have people talking about me, and bam. Acl. Every. Fucking. Time. I had a good season, but so what? I still wasn’t noticed by the coaches who needed to notice and now this probably justifies their decision to overlook me.

All I keep replaying over and over in my mind is that decision I made – that decision to save a goal. And save it I did. But it cost me my knee and potentially my soccer career. So was it worth it? Absolutely not. Now I’m left wondering; what if I didn’t make that tackle? What if I just let her score? And why the fuck didn’t I?

I don’t have any answers right now. No words of wisdom. No hope for the future. All I have is my heart which has been broken more times by this sport than anything else in my life. And yet, I still choose it. I still choose it despite the pain. Despite the adversities. Despite the anguish. But perhaps now is the time I stop choosing it. Perhaps now I do give up. Perhaps this really is the third time lucky – lucky in the sense that there won’t be anymore. And lucky in the sense that I won’t ever have to feel this intensely sharp and debilitating heartbreak ever again. Instead, I’ll just be left with the nagging feeling of regret and wonderment of what could have been but never will. And perhaps that is the hardest lesson I ever have to learn. And perhaps that is my lesson now.

The cost of commitment

We see commitment as being virtuous, but is it really? Do good things really come to those who are committed, loyal, and devoted? Or is all of that just some bullshit we get taught as kids that really isn’t true?

This is a value I was brought up to believe. And it’s a value I took very seriously. Once I committed to something, that was the equivalent of giving my word. Whether that was with impeccable attendance for soccer trainings, or devoting my Saturday nights to studying instead of going out, one thing was definite – I was committed.

But where has that commitment gotten me? Have I achieved what I’ve wanted to achieve? Accomplished what I set out to accomplish? Or have I actually devoted my entire life to a virtue that doesn’t actually add any value to my life?

This reality, the reality that I have prioritised a value that has taken more than it has given me is what I’m currently confronting. My entire life I have prioritised soccer. I’ve given up friends’ parties, family dinners, holidays, concerts, just general life experiences all because I was committed to my sport. I never drank, never did drugs, invested in extra trainings, worked my ass off at trainings as well as in the gym, and where has that gotten me? I can tell you where it hasn’t gotten me, it hasn’t gotten me to where I wanted to go. Instead, it’s left me bitter. Resentful. And regretful.

My brothers always told me to never put all of your eggs in one basket, yet I thought that advice was ludicrous. Because if you don’t invest everything you have, how will you know you gave it your best shot of making it? My sports psych in America always encouraged me to “be a kid” and do “what normal 20 year olds do” and I justified my decision not to by claiming I wouldn’t “enjoy it”. But that wasn’t really the reason. I didn’t know if I would enjoy it or not, because I never tried it. The real reason is that I wanted to show I was committed to my sport. I wanted to walk the walk. I wanted to be an example of what athletes should do. I wanted to be a role model for kids to look up to. Essentially, I wanted to be a pillar of righteousness. I wanted to believe that good character and good decisions were synonymous with one another. I was serious about looking after my body because I believed you had to in order to stay healthy. But where did that get me?

Here’s the truth. Committed people still get beaten. They still get overlooked. They still get injured. They still get cheated on. They still get fired. Committed people still lose. Just because you’re committed, it doesn’t mean jack shit. When you’re committed, when you’ve turned down opportunities your entire life, you start to feel like you’re owed something. You feel like that commitment should be acknowledged. Rewarded. Justified. But it won’t be. Because the truth is, no one really gives a shit if you’re committed or not. Coaches, bosses, teachers, partners, everyone will claim they want people who are committed, but they won’t actually care all that much if they’re not. So I ask you, what are you giving up to be committed? Is it worth the cost of your life?

Someone asked me recently, why do you want to make it so badly? And at first I gave my typical response – because I want to be in a position of influence. I believe I could be a really good role model and I want my blog to help people, I just need a platform to do so. I wanted to prove that you can come back from two acls and still play at the highest level. And my ego wanted the recognition. The perks of having a “name” – free medical bills. Access to facilities. Opportunities. And I wanted some return on the financial and significant time investments I’ve made throughout my life. But the real reason I want to make it? Because I want to justify every decision I’ve ever made to prioritise soccer. From turning down holidays, to not making bad decisions and gaining experiences. I wanted to say it has been all been worth it. But I’m being confronted with the reality that is hasn’t been worth it. That it’s all been a waste. I’m 26 years old and I feel like I haven’t really lived because I gave up experiences for the nobility of being committed. And I fucking regret that.

So I’m left with this resentment and bitterness. Towards friends, teammates, family, partners – anyone who’s decided to do what I never did. To choose experiences instead of commitment. To choose living instead of a sport. People always tell you, work hard and you can achieve anything. Hard work pays off. Commit to your dreams. Think, live, breathe whatever you want to achieve and it will come to you. But I’m here to tell you not to do that. Hard work will only get you so far. Committing to something won’t guarantee loyalty in return. Turning down opportunities to pursue a goal isn’t as virtuous as you’re made to believe. And it comes at a cost. And that cost could be your life.

So please, don’t make the same mistakes I did. Say yes to bad decisions. Say yes to holidays. Say yes to living. Choose life, not your righteousness. Because if you don’t, you might just end up becoming everything you wished you weren’t. Take it from me, I would know.

The embarrassment of mistakes

We’re hardwired to care what people think about us. Even though countless self-help books, life coaches, and messages from society will encourage you to simply not give a “f*ck” (in the words of Mark Manson’s book), it’s simply not realistic. The fact is, we care. We care what others think because our brain processes rejection as a threat to our survival. So how then, can we create environments which counteract our natural fear of being rejected and encourage the risk of making mistakes?

Mistakes are as essential to human life as oxygen is to our survival. In order to grow, we must first fail. Why is it then that mistakes, instead of being encouraged, are often punished and reprimanded? Fact: mistakes are inevitable. In society, regardless if it’s in a working environment, a sporting team, or in relationships, people are held up to the impossible standard of being perfect. But we aren’t. And we never will be. It’s in our very nature to be fallible.

Despite this reality, mistakes are continuously punished. Instead of embracing the possibility of making a mistake, people fear them. And amongst fear, creativity dies. What compounds this fear is often the embarrassment associated with making a mistake. Whenever we attempt something new and uncomfortable, we have an unrealistic expectation that we’ll be good at it the first time we try it. And when we’re not, we get embarrassed. These mistakes don’t align with the competent human we believe ourselves to be. So instead of pursuing this uncomfortableness, we choose the comfort of retaining this image of competency by avoiding whatever it is that we’re not good at. And it appears to work. Up until these avoided deficiencies hinder our growth and excellence.

So how do we create an environment that fosters the breeding ground for the occurrence of mistakes? First, identify whether the mistake is one of simple human error or a by-product of pursuing something new and challenging. If the former, ask yourself what is the cost of this error? Is this the first time it has happened, or is this a repeated mistake? Remember that mistakes are never personal - people don’t intentionally screw up. Operate under the premise that people don’t know what they don’t know. What might be blatantly obvious to you, might not be present within the other person’s awareness. Often these mistakes need not be punished, but instead, notified. A notification, as defined by Daniel Coyle, “...provides context, telling of something noticed, placing a spotlight on one discrete element of the world. Notifications are the humblest and most primitive form of communication.”

If the mistake is one of the latter, a by-product of pursuing something new and challenging, reinforce. Don’t punish. Embrace the mistakes. Encourage the mistakes. Remember, no growth occurs in the comfort zone, and there’s no comfort in the growth zone. Be patient. When an individual makes a mistake, their brain immediately assesses the situation for rejection. Given that mistakes have invariably been punished throughout our lives, we’re operating under the unconscious conditioning that the mistake we’ve made is bad and consequences will ensue. This conditioning takes time to unlearn. And safety in the environment is imperative to ensure this unlearning occurs.

Creativity and fear cannot coexist. When an individual is punished for a mistake, a mistake they did not intentionally make, a mistake that was probably inevitable, they become afraid. They become afraid of their environment. They become afraid to take chances. They become afraid to be themselves. Instead of thriving, they are now focused on surviving. Being punished is unconsciously interpreted by our brain as a threat to our survival. When safety is not established, individuals will continue to falter at an increasing rate. Extroverted personalities will become introverted. Caring for others and our environment, our natural and instinctive state of being, will be converted into focusing only on ourselves. So when this happens, don’t blame the individual. Check yourself. How might you have contributed to this individual making a mistake? Are the relevant protocols in place to prevent such mistakes? Has the individual been sufficiently trained? What behaviour has been modelled by others in this environment? Has an environment been established in which the individual feels safe? Or is the individual simply susceptible to the fallibility of being human and the inevitability of making a mistake?

Perfection isn’t possible. So let’s stop trying to establish it and start embracing the imperfect nature of being human. Foster growth by creating safe environments and encouraging mistakes and you’ll make this world, and the people you interact with, better for it.