The final whistle had barely finished blowing and I already felt like garbage. The semi-final game had just finished, and I played probably the worst game I’ve played in a long time. It’s a bitter sweet moment. We did lose terribly, I personally played terribly, and we finished a spectacular season on a sour note, but at the same time, the season has finished, I have time to heal up, I have excellent things to work on for next season, and I now have time to work on them. To say I wasn’t looking forward to an off-season would be a lie, and I must admit, (here’s a little preview) Friday’s article is all about the need for an off-season (especially as someone with a chronic disease). So right off the bat, I knew I wasn’t mentally into the game. It happens though, we all have off games, we all lose, but what makes a you victorious in the end (regardless of the outcome) is how you react after your loss or failure.
I spend a lot of time on this site talking about failure. The thing is, when you put yourself out there and try something new for the first (or second or third) time, you are bound to eventually fail at least once if you are pushing your boundaries. The thing with Ulcerative Colitis (and I suspect, other diseases) is that this novel thing may be leaving the house for the first time after a flare up, or for the first time since you’ve been home from the hospital. So hopefully you can see the parallels between sport and disease. Often times in sport you are trying novel things as well (although the consequences are much different) and there are only two possible outcomes: succeed or fail. With a 50/50 outcome, it isn’t exactly terribly wrong to expect you will fail at some point.
But let’s get back to the game, and the season. As I sit here, battered and bruised from the entire season, specifically our last game, I can’t help but replay every goal that went in. Ya sure, I made diving saves, I made key stops, and prevented other goals from going in, but unfortunately, enough goals went in that we lost the game. In a spot such as a goalkeeper, you tend to feel personally responsible, even though it’s a team sport. There is a certain accountability as a keeper that every one of your teammates relies on you to get them out of a jam. You are their scapegoat. And I’m oddly okay with that because that’s what I signed up for. More importantly, it’s that crappy feeling of failing that will push me to be better.
I bring these same qualities towards my chronic disease. There is a certain accountability I must answer too. No, I did not personally sign up to endure a chronic illness but regardless I have it, and have to act as such. I would love to ignore the fact that I have a digestive disorder and eat everything I wanted when I wanted, but that is simply not the case. I’ve recognized that I have to take injections and stay on a medication schedule, and if I don’t I will face consequences; just like if I were to neglect training, perform poorly at a sport and then reap the consequences of losing. You see, these skills are transferable. We must learn to lose as much as we must learn to win.
Yet, I mentioned pushing the boundaries. So, let’s say you push boundaries and for whatever reason you fail. Now it is time to put everything together to get that victory from failure. Regardless of the endeavor, whether it’s an athletic adventure or just tackling the first few steps of your porch, whenever you fail, you must be willing to take responsibility for your part in it. Let’s tackle this in regards to my game. We lost 7-2. Now, was I responsible for every goal? Probably not, but I do know that there were still enough I was responsible for. As soon as that last whistle went, I was already thinking of those goals and what I would do different next time to ensure that there was no next time. Of course if I tried hard enough I could redirect blame to a defender or a bad bounce, but then I would just continually be finding myself in similar situations all the time. There’s no improvement in this kind of thinking, and in a realm where improvement is necessary, this cannot be the case. If we brought it to my disease, it would be like me drinking three cups of coffee and leaving the house right away and then blaming the ensuing cramps and possible accident on just the nature of my disease. No, it was in my hands by drinking three cups of coffee.
Now for the hard part. You can’t dwell on your mistakes or failures. It’s very important to look into what went wrong, how you can fix it, and begin practicing to ensure it doesn’t repeat itself. Yet, once you realize how to fix it and begin practicing, let that mistake go. Don’t let it haunt you anymore but rather trust in yourself to improve.
Lastly, and this is the most important part, don’t forget to be proud of all the little victories along the way. If I think about this season, it ended in a terrible last game. Yet, when I think of the season, I think about how we went undefeated and how I collected not just one, but three clean sheets. Furthermore, in my first ever appearance as a goalkeeper in a season, my team made it to the semi-finals. Thinking of this makes me proud, because to me it was a victory against chronic disease. These accomplishments may not be a big deal to some, but as someone with chronic disease, I can proudly say that I didn’t let my chronic disease hold me back. Believe me, it tried and I spent enough time battling it along the course of the last 8 games of the season. So in the end, yes we may have lost the semi-final game, but we won the season, at least to me. So I really hope that you can all see that although the outcome was negative, over the course of it all, I came away the victor. It’s all about the small victories.
Note: Image taken from http://www.ibtimes.co.uk/arsenal-news-joey-barton-criticises-alexis-sanchez-after-failing-impress-2-0-defeat-barcelona-1546120