Akrasia - Prologue

As an athlete myself, this is probably what hurt me the most. 

Ever since I was a kid, my dream has always been to play football professionally in Europe. A few years ago that dream became only to play NCAA Division 1. ‘Only’ is a really cocky way to describe my change in ambitions, but it is a good reflection of my real thinking going into that decision. 

However, as ‘cocky’ as I have been since that shift, my body and my mind, as a result of consequent decisions, have made me switch into an unpreferred and most assuredly work-shy second gear. 

The comparably drastic drop in target setting, however delusional, made me think I was already at the finish line before I even started. Although we all know the true standard of being recruited into a remotely competitive D1 school remains incredibly high, somehow I still refused to accept that. I became more and more reluctant, more and more unable to withstand the previous discipline that has built the athlete that I am today. 

An athlete that trained by himself every chance he could get and spent more hours in the gym than doing anything else turned into a teen that treats football as a second priority. And yet, with this lifestyle, I continued to believe that everything would go just as smoothly as before. 

Since my aspirations took a slight dip, my expectations for myself took a plunge. I began to underperform significantly. Yet ‘underperform’ is an overstatement, because in reality my performance is a fair and just reflection of the work I’m putting in, and that is close to none. 

Last year, that cockiness made me leave my club after only serving half a season to rejoin my former team, with promises of being the ‘centrepiece’ of the team with a ‘quick promotion’ in store. However, no more than three matches into the season, I was pushed down to my U15s division and fell out of the U17 starting lineup. 

I was gutted.

More than gutted.

I was bewildered and rather triggered by how I was treated.

I wanted to leave. 

My cockiness wanted me to leave.

But in reality, the way I was treated was completely fair.

More than fair.

I was tragic on the pitch. Constantly losing the ball. Not tracking back after losing the ball. Poor fitness. Poor first touch. 

How can the coaches keep the promise of ‘centrepiece’ when I have lost my ability to be one?