The Journey of a Short-Lived Passion: My football experience
The Journey of a Short-Lived Passion: My football experience
Moving forward to the start of my training, I still remember the struggle of pulling myself out of bed each morning. The warmth of my blanket and the comfort of lying down made it so tempting to snooze for just a little longer. However, despite the overwhelming desire to stay in bed, I managed to push through and keep going. Day by day, I followed the same routine—I would wake up, go to my father, wake him up as well, and then head towards the nearby sports complex to begin my training.
My father was my first instructor, guiding me through the world of Kung Fu. He taught me all sorts of kicks and punches, emphasizing technique, speed, and control. But beyond just the striking techniques, he made me stand in a squatted position for hours—something I later understood was meant to build endurance and leg stability. At the time, it felt like torture, but looking back, I realize it was a crucial part of developing strength and resilience.
In the initial days, my siblings were equally excited and joined me in this new adventure. We all started training together, laughing and struggling through the intense sessions. However, enthusiasm quickly faded, and within a week, they all dropped out. The new passion for Kung Fu that we had embraced together vanished just as swiftly for them, but for me, it meant something more. It wasn’t just about learning a martial art—it was an opportunity to prove myself to my parents. I knew they would taunt me if I quit, labeling me as lazy or weak, and I didn’t want to give them that chance. So, I persisted, determined to show them I was capable of committing to something challenging.
Yet, as school reopened and holidays ended, reality started to shift. Balancing early morning training with school classes and homework became increasingly difficult. Eventually, I found a reliable excuse to step away from the rigorous routine—school itself. It seemed like the perfect justification to end my training without feeling like a failure. At the time, it felt like an escape, a relief from the grueling sessions that demanded more discipline than I was willing to give.
Deep down, I still wanted to learn Kung Fu, but not in the exhausting, reality-driven way that my training demanded. I had been enamored by the glamorous portrayals of martial arts in movies—the effortless flips, the seamless fight sequences, and the dramatic victories. I never expected the ground reality to be so harsh, nor did I want it to be. And so, as anticipated, I used school as my shield and abandoned training altogether.
Looking back now, I regret that decision. Who knows where I could have been if I had persevered? What level of skill could I have achieved had I not given up so soon? It’s a thought that occasionally lingers in my mind, nudging me with a sense of what-if. At the time, I convinced myself that it didn’t matter and moved on to newer hobbies. But a part of me has always been bothered by this incomplete chapter in my life.
With hindsight, I realize I was simply avoiding hardship. The challenge felt too overwhelming, and instead of embracing it, I sought an easy way out. This pattern, I now see, was a reflection of my younger self—unwilling to endure struggles that didn’t provide immediate gratification. Life continued, and I eventually gave up on the idea of fighting. However, the experience left an imprint on me, serving as a reminder that perseverance and discipline are what truly shape us. Perhaps one day, I’ll find the courage to revisit this unfinished journey, but for now, it remains a lesson etched in my past.