At this point in time, I've returned from Greece. I had a month left of highschool, and then I was done. 18 years old and free to leave. That's what I always wanted. Get my deal playing somewhere in Europe. Anywhere, I didn't care. As long as it was in Europe, and it was professional, I was a go.

I was just like most. An ordinary player. No one ever called me talented or especially unique, but I did know how to grind. I knew how to work harder than others. I knew how to do more than the talented kids. Even though these kids were the ones playing at higher levels. I always resented them, and tossed myself deeper into the hard work paradigm.

As if mere effort guarantees anything...

This was my way of messaging my ego, rationalizing poor decisions, and validating all the hard work already done. Rather than having the nerve to face up to the fact that results weren't getting better, I would need more reality to teach me the hard way.

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My next oppportunity

A month later, I had an opportunity to go to Sweden to play. First to Orebro, to a friendly match with a showcase team against Orebro SK's juniorallsvenskan team. Orebro was a regional town a hours train ride from Stockholm where I flew into. After a decent game, there was an invitation to come play with IFK Lulea's juniorallsvenskan team for the season. This was a town in the very north of Sweden near the border with Finland. Funny enough this was in the summer where there was sunlight almost all day from the high latitude.

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I didn't know much about light back then. In fact, I didn't know much about lifting, nutrition, or much what I talk about now. It's funny when you look back and realize what you could have done back then in the past with what you know now in the present. It's sad when you see others who can't learn from their mistakes. It's even worse when you're blind to your own shortcomings and are unable to have radical honesty with yourself. It feels good when you get results by learning from the trials and tribulations of others...

I had an interesting time in Sweden, I was finally on a local team, playing for the town. Local people respected the players. This is not like in America. No one cares much about Football (Soccer) unless you play it yourself.

The club gave me an open room in an apartment belonging to a friend of the owner. I ate most my meals at an Argentinian-Italian restaurant. I had some kind of yogurt (likely pasteurized of course), muesli, and store bough processed honey. I ate pasta for lunch and dinner every day my whole time there. Remembering back, I was stoked. Playing all the time. Eating good food. I had my own place, sorta. Plenty of Swedish girls interested in the new American in town.

My time playing in Lulea was one of my most craziest times in terms of my grind & pray mentality. In the morning, they wanted me at training at the sports school with all the other local academy players. I went with the other players to the gym after their school. Then I had training in the evening with the actual team. In between all of this, I'm biking back to the apartment, wolfing down a bunch of processed dairy and grains, or going to the restaurant and eating processed grains and cheese. Very little protein to speak of.

There was a certain point where I hit such a level of exhaustion that I simply was laughing at the insanity. I had gone "mad". Ironically, I was doing all that training, eating what was convenient, even playing mid week games because they wanted me to help this feeder team win some games, and I hadn't really hurt anything.

At this point, I was probably naturally a bit more fascial-driven just due to my young age as well as relatively I hadn't really done any gym work to speak besides bodyweight stuff. That was about to change.

Chasing Physique

This was my first real foray into the Gym world. I didn't really know what to do, and I just sort of followed along with the other players. In hindsight, it was all bodybuilding funny enough. Weighted dips, bench press, weighted pullups, tricep extension, bicep curls, and of course core work. Endless core work. Machines.

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Another ironic memory was the first time I tried dips, I couldn't do even one. I could barely do a few pullups. I had size naturally but not really muscular size. At the same time though, I was the best player there. It was the time of my best fluidity and mobility when I didn't have the physique.

I was better than all the other players on the team who could lift much more than me, but I was glued to that pro physique that I thought I needed since my time at Panathinaikos.

I thought lifting would improve my strength and power. I thought I would finally have that piece to the puzzle I was missing in Greece.

Of course as we've discussed, it is important to look like a pro and have that physique, but you have to understand that the Gym treats the symptoms of that physique by artificially stimulating muscles and segmenting them as a result. The function of the human body is worsened (which was supposed to create the physique naturally in the first place over time).

Looking back this was my first step down a rabbit hole that led to many years of injuries and poor athleticism. My desire to have that elite physique took me down a dastardly path that I didn't know the dangers of, and when your natural athleticism is already on shaky foundations then it doesn't take much for things to come crashing down. I wasn't a Natural. My athleticism wasn't able to overcome segmented gym work as you'll find out in future posts.

Ultimately, I didn't know any better. How could I have of? I just read online what was good to do and followed conventional advice. I was following along what everyone else was doing. I was merely one more soul in the crowd.

This memory serves as a timely reminder to never go with the crowd. Never fall in line for what everyone's doing. There is no solace in group think. Think independently and never be afraid to question the norm if it doesn't make sense to you.

It might feel safer or easier to do just like everyone else, but in the long run you pay the price in your health, performance, or athleticism.

The Entangled Footballer sees the warnings in the winds. Beware the fad. Beware the common. Beware the trend. Always look to what is real, to you, not to others. If other people start atacking your name, you're probably doing something right.

Remember, you can't expect top 1% results with common 99% thinking...

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