Becoming Number One

Personal Essay - What Goalkeeping taught me about success and writing, plus the nastier side of Substack.

Photo by Rowan Freeman on Unsplash

I love women. As lovers, but perhaps even more so as friends. Every time I go out to the store to pick up groceries or grab a bite to eat, I fall in love with a new woman who crosses my path. It doesn’t take much. I’m like most men, I often first notice her appearance. You know, she catches my eye. But it could also be that I notice how she holds the door for someone, how she treats the wait staff, or how she manages to go shopping with her two young children. I’m always blown away how easy it seems for women to multitask. Women fascinate me.

I don’t mean to pigeonhole all women into one category, we are all unique in our own ways, but I guess deep down, all I’m really saying is that I’m a straight male who loves the opposite sex. However, this love for the opposite sex doesn’t even come close to my love for the beautiful game. Football or soccer has grown into an absolute obsession over the years. 

It really goes all the way back to the field out behind the townhouse in Maryland. I can still see my dad punting the soccer ball high into the air. I would giggle and stare as it soared into the clouds. I thought my dad must have been the strongest man in the world. 

As a young boy my father played soccer for the Olney Green Machine, he was their goalkeeper. One of the coaches for Dad’s team had connections in England, so two friendlies were scheduled with the Broxbourne Saints. One would take place in Maryland and one in England.

Fate would have it that Dad would be unable to play the friendly in England, but still made the trip. He had badly broken his leg skiing. Instead of playing he got to attend the North London Derby at Highbury. Not all of you are soccer folks, but this is one of the biggest rivalries in England, and well known throughout the soccer world. Arsenal v Tottenham Hotspur. His first professional match, that lucky bastard. The stuff dreams are made of. 

When I joined my first soccer team I didn’t know too much about the game. The laws of the game are easy enough to understand, but I initially just found joy in playing. At the first practice my coach put me in goal. I was bigger than most kids with a good set of hands on me and I had no fear. I was a natural.

Perhaps not the most athletic goalkeeper, but I quickly understood positional play and how to cut down the striker’s shooting angle. As I grew older I felt goalkeeping was my true calling. I thought about little else. Dad would fire balls at me in the front yard, just a pair of cones to mark off the goal. He always claimed he would build me a real goal with a net, but he never did quite get around to that. 

I was always trying to learn more and grow as a player. I would watch all the matches I could find on television, it didn’t matter who was playing. I would try to pick up anything I could from the goalkeepers on T.V. I’ll never forget watching the FIFA World Cup of 2002. It took place in Japan and Korea, so the games were on very early here in the States. I slept in the living room and would wake up far before dawn to watch in awe. 

That year a goalkeeper by the name of Oliver Kahn played for the German team. I loved watching him play (although I was heartbroken when a very good American team fell to the Germans in the quarterfinal, not without a bit of controversy). The first thing I noticed about Kahn was his passion, barking at his defenders and opponents alike. He owned his penalty area and pulled off stunning and graceful diving saves. He seemed to have total control of his body, with lightning quick reflexes. He was the kind of goalkeeper I wanted to be, he was an inspiration to say the least. He won the best player of the tournament, the only goalkeeper to ever win the prestigious Golden Ball. 

Around that same time I was beginning to come into my own as a goalkeeper. I was becoming more serious about my fitness and was growing out of my pubescent chubbiness. I knew I was doing something right because I’d begun to hear the roar of approval by fans and onlookers. There is something special about watching a goalkeeper put heart, soul, and body on the line to keep the ball out of the net. 

Growing up, I didn’t have the luxury to play on well kept pitches. The goal mouth was often the worst. Hard, compact, grassless patches of earth. Diving or sliding out on this cement like surface took some guts, but the high I felt from denying my opponent was worth the pain. I vividly imagine my favorite matches and most spectacular saves. A highlight reel in my mind that I still relive over and over. 

As a freshman in high school I was asked to move up from the J.V. team to be backup goalkeeper for the varsity squad as they made an incredible run to the State Championship. We ended up losing on penalties, but it was an amazing honor to even be on the bench for the final. I thought I had played a part in the team’s unexpected run. 

The next year I took over as the starting goalkeeper for the Clarke County Eagles. I was out to prove myself. I will admit I was nervous before nearly every game that season, I had put far too much pressure on myself. In the first friendly of my varsity career I couldn’t stop shitting before the game. I wasn’t sure I’d be able to play, but when it was time to take the field I was ready. We won the match 1-0 and I made an impressive one on one save to keep the clean sheet. 

It was a great season despite the nerves and I was in the best shape of my life. For the second consecutive season the Eagles made a run to the State Championship. We were up against our fiercest rivals, George Mason. It was raining all throughout the match. I played well and dealt with everything thrown my way. With the match deadlocked at 0-0, it looked as if fate was on our side as the referee awarded us a penalty kick with maybe fifteen minutes to play. The George Mason goalkeeper made a great save to deny us. 

I could say a lot more about that spot kick, but I’ll just give him the credit. The tide had shifted. George Mason was on the attack minutes later and after a poor clearance from a defender a shot came my way. There was a crowd of players in my line of sight. The shot was hit along the floor, I dove to my left late, but I was sure it was going wide. I had time to glance back as the ball went beyond my outstretched glove. As I looked on I was still convinced the shot was wide of the mark. However, the field we played on dipped slightly down hill near the goal line, pulling the ball into the very far corner, a perfectly executed pass into the net. We lost 1-0. I had a brilliant season, but it was the other goalkeeper who received all the plaudits, perhaps they were worthy. 

All summer and into the next year I kept that disappointment with me. It helped drive me. We won the State Championship the following two seasons, the first high school to win back to back titles at the single A level in Virginia. I was awarded first team All - State honors two years running, something that no other soccer player had managed at Clarke County. I finished my career with 33 clean sheets, if I remember correctly, a school record at the time. Not sure if that record still stands. 

I went on to play for the Radford University Highlanders. I was never able to break into the starting eleven in college. I was dealing with a lot during those days. The break up of my parents, too much drinking, and the deaths of family members. I admit I wasn’t completely focused on playing and didn’t perform well every single day at practice. However, during my playing days, there was not a clear path to follow. 

I wasn’t receiving a large scholarship so making it into the team was difficult due to factors outside my control. I came from a small country town and although I certainly had the ability, I’m not sure I was taken seriously. I was always going to be a backup keeper. Most of the players who played were relatively rich kids on scholarship or foreign imports.

There was a time where I had never gone up against a keeper who I thought was better than myself. In college this didn’t necessarily change, but sitting on the bench has a way of playing with your mind and totally depleting your confidence. I kept the dream of playing professionally alive as long as I could, but slowly the dream died and along with it, a large part of myself.

I still consider myself a keeper before anything else. It’s what I’ll always be. The lone man standing, guarding, and protecting everything I believe needs protecting. Right now it’s mostly just my dog Bella, and my sanity. 

But I miss playing. I miss it desperately. I could play in an adult league, but I guess I’m too lazy for all that. It feels like I did my time as an athlete. Again, that’s probably a lazy excuse. I do have an outlet though and it’s playing goalkeeper in the digital world of video games. 

EAFC or, what most people still know it as, FIFA has allowed you to play as the goalkeeper since 2011. I’ve been along for the ride since the game mode’s inception. Playing almost exclusively offline in career mode.

This season however I decided to go online and test my skills against other real human beings. I have had more than a few unpleasant experiences playing online, whether it’s whiney loud people cussing over their headsets, or just selfish play on the virtual pitch. I get a little depressed with most humans when it comes to how they portray themselves virtually.

But this was about me and proving that I could compete, no excuses. After ten games of online play I saw that I could probably make it up the pro ranking board if I put in the hours and performed consistently. Long story short, I played and played. I had the time and the motivation. I did it, I pushed my way to the top of the leader board, the number one ranked goalkeeper in the world on Playstation 4 and Xbox One.

The dream sort of died there. It’s a lonely place at the top, and as I write this I have fallen to third. I’ve been back focused on writing and my Substack page, another outlet that is very important to my mental health and growth. 

However, I’ve recently discovered Substack’s nastier, or at least more disappointing side. A good friend of mine reached out and suggested Substack as a place to share my work. Initially I was blown away. What?! I can self publish and be part of a large community of writers?! I can make money doing this as well?!

I do think it’s a great set of tools for any writer, but underneath everything there is still the social media aspect that I abhor. I admit this is a personal problem that I should probably work through, but I also know I’m not alone here. 

There is a section within Substack referred to as Notes. It’s the homepage of Substack now. It is similar to your Facebook feed or perhaps Twitter. I am not a social media person, although I do keep up with a few folks and try to throw out some likes here and there. But, on Substack I thought I’d give it a shot. In my silly naive head I thought it may be a different experience, it was all writers primarily, so I thought it may be my place to find community. 

I’ve been greatly disappointed. I had put writers on a kind of pedestal. But underneath everything they’re just people who struggle with the same things that everyone struggles with. And on Notes, like nearly every comment section throughout the internet, it gets ugly at times. 

I’ve been getting fed up with Notes to an unhealthy level over the past few days. I wish it was a place where I could chat with writers who have similar interests, but also a place to find writers with a different point of view. But, all I see are the posts from the most popular writers. Most of which is unsolicited advice about how to grow your Substack and how to be a successful writer. Not what I’m looking for, I’m mostly interested in fiction, poetry, personal essays, and sports writing. As things stand, it is very hard to find and read the things that I enjoy. 

Anyways, last night I got into a little…tiff, with one of these “best selling” authors on Substack. In my eyes she was lecturing a relatively unknown writer, or to say it more bluntly, was scolding this writer for sharing her feelings and opinions about how Substack could improve. Labeling newbies as entitled brats who hadn’t put in the hard work necessary to have a successful readership. Ok, she is a good writer and didn’t phrase things exactly the way I just did, but either way it rubbed me wrong. I stepped in to support my fellow unknown. Oops. 

I explained my side, stating that I felt the frustration and hard work doesn’t always pay off. I also said that Notes was no more than a “circle jerk” where the same people pop up again and again. Writers sucking each other’s proverbial dicks in order to get noticed or feed the ego. She got quite offended and basically said I shouldn’t be on social media and that I was simply resentful of others' success. I do thank her for her words, because I always try to look at myself first, which is what she asked me to do. 

However, what seemed to get lost in the banter is that I’m not expecting my Substack to be an overnight success story. There is a part of me that wants to share and I do believe I can touch more people with my work. But I also wish to find other writers who are not popular at this very moment. Some of my favorite pieces I have managed to stumble upon through sheer luck. These writers barely have one like to their posts. The way Substack works is similar to how the rest of the world works. The richer getting richer and the poorer getting poorer. 

The most popular writers on Substack don’t want things to change. There is a push back against anything that would disrupt their success. Have they put in the time and effort to get there, yes probably. I applaud them for that. But I also can’t agree with the idea that once you’ve become an established writer that all of your work is worth reading. 

It goes back to my fascination and love of women. I often notice their looks first, how they put themselves together. I can’t help it. The same with writing, if you have been awarded for your work and made a name for yourself, I will probably give you a shot. You were successful in catching my eye. But what’s the old saying? Beauty is in the eye of the beholder? A newbie writer can write a better piece than an established writer! At least in some folks' eyes.

What I think occurs too often to successful writers and people in general is that there is an ego trip that happens. They feel as if they’ve made it. Finally, their opinions and words count. But they missed the point all along. Their opinions and words were always valuable.  

I will admit that my writing will get better the more I write. That’s why I started this page. I wanted to improve and I wanted to develop a writing routine. I also wanted to bring my friends and family along with me. I need the support and I’m not afraid to admit that. I love all of you who have given me a chance to be a small part of your lives. I hope I can repay you with an honest and open view into my world, and I hope it isn’t a chore to read my work. 

I took a long break from writing. I had a full-time job for many years and decided to spend my free time with family and playing FIFA of course. I put 12 years into practicing my virtual goalkeeping before going online this season. I developed my own unique way of playing and after just a few weeks of playing online I found myself at the top of the leader board.

My writing will take time and practice to be on the level of other more successful writers. That may be true. However, if goalkeeping has taught me anything it's that you are only as good as your last game. Same goes for writing. Each piece is its own challenge and just because you have tasted success does not mean everything that follows is worth the read.

There is an old saying in the football or soccer world. Form is temporary, but class is permanent. Writers, especially those at the top, beware of the poor form and try your best to remain classy.