I remember like it was yesterday. I was sitting across from Coach M, nervously splitting my gaze between his disapproving eyes (or at least that was my interpretation – probably not entirely accurate based on what I know now) and my own lap.
I was quitting the football team.
Just to frame the situation, I’d been a football player since about age ten. Officially. But my love for football dated back much further. I was a forty niners fan pretty much out of the womb and as you’ll see in my personal picture, I picked up a football almost immediately and it was my main dream to play football at the highest level possible.
In high school I played quarterback, and led my team to the San Francisco city championship and threw the game winning touchdown. It was a dream come true. And it helped take me to the next level – college football.
What I’ve always loved about football:
- The camaraderie – I love being in the trenches with a group of guys headed into war (not actual war thank God). I loved that we were all united toward a common goal against a common foe.
- It’s physical: I love the contact. I love that there are physical ramifications. I love that on some level there’s a physical risk. It’s exhilarating and put me right on the edge. [disclaimer – knowing everything we know now about the potential effects of playing the support over a period of time, I will be strongly urging my sons toward other endeavors]
- The glory: nothing beat the feeling of throwing that pass to my best friend in front of a crowd of hundreds and hearing the explosion of their cheers. It was pure ecstasy.
When I got to college though – everything changed.
The rules of the support were pretty much the same. The field was still 100 yards, I still wore a helmet and shoulder pads, and the end zone and goals posts were still in the same place.
Now the previous me would’ve eaten this up as a challenge. I would’ve grabbed ahold of it and used all of it as a call to action.
The new me had discovered two things which changed the playing field – 1) alcohol/drugs AND 2) girls.
So when I got back from summer break my Junior year and the coach told me that I wouldn’t be starting – I was infuriated. I’d put in two years of blood sweat and tiers. I rode the bench like they asked and learned my new position (wide receiver). I played scout team and helped the starters prepare for game days.
It should’ve been my time. At least that’s what I told myself.
I also told myself that the coaches had it out for me. They wanted me to fail. They had their personal favorites and I wasn’t one of them.
In retrospect, these were all mostly lies. Lies I told myself.
The truth was, my progress as a football player was stunted by my disease of alcoholism. The main manifestation of which was a bad attitude. I spent the summer half-assing my training. I went to the weight room to bulk up for vanity. But I did not spend time doing the most important things for my particular position – speed and endurance training, working on my route running, and catching tons and tons and tons of footballs. No, I focused on how I looked.
And when Coach M told me I wouldn’t be starting, it was the perfect opportunity to do what I’d wanted to do since the very first day of training camp my freshman year: I QUIT.
This was a key moment in a fall from grace that happened over the next five years or so. It was important not because I was on a path to the NFL or to “football greatness” at the college level even. Most likely my ceiling would’ve been – really solid college football player.
But the reason this moment was pivotal for me was that I had never quit anything before.
Now I want to draw a distinction between quitting, and changing courses in life with appropriate intention. I think there’s a big difference between the two.
For the latter (changing courses intentionally) it makes sense if sometimes in life you get to a crossroads and you intuitively know it’s time to make a new choice. Maybe there’s another endeavor calling to you or the path you’re currently on has intrinsically changed or become clearly counterproductive. Then it’s time to make a change.
For me, quitting is giving up on something you love or that you’ve committed to because you’ve stopped believing in yourself. That’s what this was for me.
And everything else surrounding it – the perceived disdain of the coaches, etc, was an excuse and a rationalization.
And one way I’ve always known if a difficult decision I’d made was “right” was how I felt immediately after I made it. In this case, I left through the doors of the Harvard Football training facility for the last time and I did not feel like a weight had been lifted. Instead I felt a hollowness.
That weekend, when the football team played, the starting receivers went down with injuries. If I’d still been on the team I would’ve stepped in. Instead, the receiver who was beneath me on the depth chart stepped in and had the game of his life. It felt like the universe was telling me in a not so subtle way: “that could’ve been you.”
Now, what’s my takeaway from this? Up until recently I’ve been haunted with a recurring dream. The dream is that I get another chance to play football. This dream comes back to me periodically – once every couple of months or so. And I wake up with a pit in my stomach.
A few months ago i took an action. I looked up my coach – coach M – and gave him a call.
I made an amends to him. I shared with him everything I’d been thinking and feeling at the time and I said how I’d blamed him for the demise for my college football career. I apologized for my bad attitude and for giving up on the team.
Coach M was as gracious and kind and understanding as can be.
And I felt released. And I haven’t had the dream since.
For me, this experience has been deeply symbolic in my life. We are not perfect and my path has been filled with bumps and bruises and ups and downs. But the lesson for me has been: when you love something, pursue it to the fullest. Give yourself to it. Work hard, but even more importantly, work smart. And if you’re changing paths, make sure you are being deeply honest about your reasons and your intentions.
This is how I currently pursue and work at the things in my life that I love right now: my family, my career, and my spiritual recovery.
I’d love to share a song with you that is somewhat about this topic.
It’s called Raised at Night, and it’s about how sometimes the darkest moments in our lives become the greatest teachers. And if we let them, the greatest opportunities to grow.
I hope you like it…
https://youtu.be/64PLrnyZplk?si=yx5_RQAYqPP0OzLw
Ari Welkom, known on stage as Avatari, is an LA-based alt-rock singer and actor. A Harvard graduate, married father of two, and former college athlete, he practices martial arts and champions anti-bullying, equal rights, and unity on his journey of recovery. Follow him on Instagram or Twitter (X)!
See his videos on YouTube
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This Post is republished on Medium.
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Photo credit: Author
