Read Part 1 Here: https://forums.sim-football.com/showthre...?tid=29331
For a while, soccer was my passion. I wanted to be a professional soccer player when I grew up. I wanted to play all over the world, travel from country to country, and absolutely annihilate the opponent on the pitch. For a while, I truly loved soccer and sunk my heart and soul into it. But after a while, it got boring to me. In eighth grade, I pretty much stopped playing soccer entirely. I went to my games and practices, but for different reasons. I was just going through the motions. I wasn’t really passionate about the game anymore. After the fall season ended I decided to quit soccer. It was just not as fun as it was before. But I knew I would need something to fill the void. Soccer helped me gain friends in St. Louis. Soccer helped me keep myself in check, both physically and mentally. It was a weird time without soccer, so I tried to seek out other sports related hobbies.
For a brief time, I thought that I could be a soccer analyst, or broadcaster. I had knowledge of the game, and I thought I could rely on my Italian charm to get me through my camera shyness. Naturally, I signed up for an after school Broadcasting class, which I thought would help me in my quest to become a soccer commentator, or something along those lines. The teacher gave me a script to read, and after studying it and learning the basics of broadcasting, I thought I was ready. So, I sat in front of the camera, read the teleprompter and… blanked.
You see, this is when I realized that I could probably never become an analyst. I have a pretty hard time articulating my thoughts when I’m speaking, and while I’ve gotten better at it, that articulation trouble increased tenfold in eighth grade me. Needless to say, I ended up moving behind the camera and began writing scripts. So there was another career path gone, unfortunately for me.
But then I realized something. All thanks to the elusive obvious.
~
The elusive obvious is a term that I think we can all relate to. Basically, it’s something that everybody but you knows. Like, if a girl is hitting on you in a bar, and everybody knows except for you. My elusive obvious was football.
Basically, after I had quit soccer, I began watching a solid amount of football and had made friends with members of my school’s football team. I began playing in scrimmages with them in around March, when spring reared its head and there wasn’t 6 inches of snow on the turf. I was still debating what to pursue in life, because while I wanted to stay in the sports field I couldn’t speak for shit and I thought being a sports journalist would be incredibly boring. I started getting better at football once I started scrimmaging with the team, and then, when Spring Break hit, I realized what I wanted to do with my life. I wanted to be a football player.
This realization hit me like a brick wall. The possibility was right in front of my face when I first started watching football. I had the basic fundamentals of football down- speed, athleticism, and hell, I was getting better at trucking. I figured that once the school year winded down, I could hit the grind, get better at the game, and try to make Metro High School’s “1 Team.”
Basically, Metro High School’s 1 Team is where the beginner high school football players go. Usually, it’s filed with Freshmen, but there are some upperclassmen who want to play football but just aren’t good enough to make it to JV or Varsity. It’s basically the development team in the MHS football system. But despite this 1 Team being for development, the training was rigorous and if you slacked off even once, you were benched. This was an incredibly serious dev team- but one that was glued together. That team was a family.
Anyways, I got out of 8th grade with a diploma in my hands and football on my mind. Pretty much every day, I’d call up my friends and we’d do a quick scrimmage. We all had one thing in mind- we wanted to get on the 1 Team. So we grinded (is that past tense for “Grind?” I don’t know, and I don’t plan on looking into it any further than this) all summer, working on both our physical and mental games. When the time came to try out, my friends and I were ready. I had 2 goals that year- Make the 1 team and be their starting Wide Receiver. I was HYPED for the year to start.
I tried out. I thought I did well. Turns out, the coaches did too. When I got the call saying that I had made it, I was on Cloud 10. I had worked so hard to get here with my friends and I knew that it was going to be an incredible season. But there wasn’t much time for celebration, since the team’s first practice was the next day.
~
When I went to the first practice, I was incredibly excited. So was 95 percent of the team, since most of us were freshmen. Although there were a few sophomores, the freshmen were the overwhelming majority. Our first practice consisted of 20 minutes of greetings, followed by 2 hours and 40 minutes of exercises, both physical and mental. Routes were ran, energy was high, and we were all just excited for game time to come. I thought I had played well, and I was pretty sure I’d get a few touches in our team’s first game. “Maybe I’ll start today,” I thought as my parents drove me to the football field. Well… I didn’t.The game went by without me even stepping onto the field to run a play. I was bummed. But I remained optimistic, hoping that as long as I performed well in practice, the coaches would notice and I’d get playing time in game 2. Same thing, though. Not even a single route ran.
Week 3 came along, and while I was losing hope, I was holding on to what remained. I tried harder, ran faster, caught more throws, and went all out. Guess what? It happened again! I was disappointed but not surprised. I vented to whoever would listen. My friends and family all told me the same thing- “Try again next week, and if you don’t get time on the field, then ask the coach why.” So I did.
I tried harder this time as well. I went all out, and throughout the week I kept trying to convince myself that this was the week. This was the week I’d get to play. This was the week where I’d clutch up and come through for the team. THIS WAS THE WEEK WHERE I WOULD RUN A GODDAMN ROUTE IN A GAME.
Spoiler alert- It wasn’t. That was the final straw for me. One day, I went to my coach’s office to see why I wasn’t getting any time on the field. I made an appointment, walked through the door, and then this conversation ensued:
“I’ll get right into it, coach. Why haven’t I been getting playing time? I’ve been trying harder than ever and it seems like you guys are just overlooking me. I just don’t understand- I’ve been working for months to get better at my game but it seems like you aren’t noticing. I-”
I remember my coach putting up his finger. He nodded his head and then said:
“Gio, here’s the reason why I haven’t been giving you playing time.”
I waited in my chair, anxious in anticipation.
“Gio,” he said, lowering his voice. “I don’t think you’re good enough.”
He opened his mouth again, but then I put my finger up. “Nope,” I said. “I get it. I understand. Thanks, coach.” We shook hands. I put on a brave face, trying not to look like I had just been hit in the balls with a rocket. As soon as I got out of his office, as soon as I got out of that school, I let my emotions run wild. Anything I could kick or punch, I was kicking or punching. I had to let it all out. I had been working so hard for so long, and my coach tells me that I’m NOT GOOD ENOUGH? I was done. I gave up that day.
~
I stopped going to practices and games after that. I was a ghost on that team. I figured, “If my coach doesn’t think I’m good enough, why should I try to improve? It’s a lose lose situation.” My friends called me. Hell, my coach even called me. But despite all of this, I never picked up. I was depressed, angry, and shocked.
Week 5 passed, and I didn’t attend a practice or game. Same with Weeks 6, 7, and 8. But then, the day before our game on Week 9 (our second to last game of the season), I got a call from the coach. One that stuck out to me.
It said: “Bianchi. Get your ass down here in 10 minutes or I will make sure you never play football at this school again.” That was it. And it worked. I ran down to Metro High and sat down at my coach’s office, a mix of emotions running through my mind. When I got into my coach’s office, he was calm and relaxed. That made me snap.
I went off on him. “You told me I wasn’t good enough, and you expect me to play for you? You put me down. You killed my passion for football. I’ve worked so hard to get here and now you want to blame it on me? For putting ME down? I’m done. Screw you.”
It felt great to say that to his face. After that, I turned around and started walking away from his office. But he yelled at me to come back. He didn’t look angry, or enraged. He still had that calm look on his face.
Then he said some of the most life-changing words I’ve heard in my life.
“Gio, contrary to what you think of me, I like you. You’re a good kid. When I told you that you weren’t good enough, I was telling you the truth. Sometimes the truth hurts. Now I remember that conversation vividly. I was going to say something after I told you that you weren’t good enough.”
My jaw dropped. You were?
“Yes,” my coach said. “I was going to say that if you kept putting in more and more effort each week, I’d play you. I’d help you become the best damn football player this city has ever seen. But now, I’m not so sure.”
Then, I said- “Had I known you were going to say that, I’d have stayed. I’m sorry for interrupting you, but you can’t expect me not to get pissed off when you said I wasn’t good enough.”
My coach nodded his head. “That’s on me. I’m glad you said that, because I do regret not wording it differently. But I’m worried. You say this is your passion. If this is truly your passion, why give up? Why not try and prove me wrong? You’ve only proved me right in these five weeks, and it isn’t doing much to help your cause.”
I nodded my head. I realized that I should have handled this situation better.
Then my coach said: “Look. I’m not going to start you. I’m not going to play you at all this season. You simply don’t deserve it. But, if you decide to come back, I’ll give you a chance to try out for JV next year. I have faith in you, still. I hope you have faith in me.”
I smiled and nodded. We shook hands, and I left.
~
I practiced with the team in our last few practices and warmed the bench both of our final games. Despite me not playing a game in my freshman year, I was going to apply myself. I was going to hit the grind once again and try out for JV. My coach had faith in me. I had faith in me. I was ready to go.
Let the grind begin.
~
-Gio
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