Looking Back at Arsenal: The Emotions I Never Spoke About
Every now and then, something triggers a memory — an old photo, a conversation, a match on TV — and I’m transported right back to my time at Arsenal. Even today, it feels surreal. This was the club I grew up adoring. The badge I wore on my pyjamas as a kid. The stadium I watched on TV with wide eyes, imagining what it must feel like to step onto that pitch.
And then somehow, it actually happened. I became the kid who got to live out the dream.
What I didn’t expect was the emotional weight that came with it.
The Pressure Behind the Dream
Behind the excitement and pride was a constant, heavy feeling of pressure. Not the healthy kind that sharpens your focus, but the kind that sits on your chest and whispers that every mistake defines you. At that age, I didn’t have the emotional toolkit or psychological grounding to recognise it for what it was.
When you love something as deeply as I loved football, the fear of losing it can become overwhelming. I played every day with a mix of passion and panic — desperate to prove I belonged, desperate not to slip up, desperate not to be the one who didn’t quite make the cut.
Anxiety That Followed Me Onto the Pitch
Anxiety in football isn’t always a dramatic moment; sometimes it’s subtle. For me, it showed up quietly: overthinking, tense shoulders, disrupted sleep, replaying mistakes, worrying about what the coaches thought, what the fans thought, what everyone thought.
Looking back, I can see how much energy went into simply managing the anxious noise in my head rather than channelling it into the game. At the time, I thought that was normal. I thought that was just part of the journey.
But now I realise I was carrying weight that I didn’t have the skills to understand, let alone control.
The Imposter Syndrome No One Talks About
People assume that once you make it to a club like Arsenal, confidence comes automatically.
It doesn’t.
I remember moments where I’d pull on the training kit and that small, nagging voice would appear: Do you really belong here?
What if they realise you’re not good enough?
What if you’re the one who slips through the cracks?
Imposter syndrome isn’t logical.
It doesn’t care about your talent.
It doesn’t care about your work ethic.
It grows in the space between expectation and self-belief.
And back then, I didn’t have the tools to shrink that space.
Wishing I Had the Tools I Teach Today
With the knowledge I have now — through experience, study, and my work in football psychology and youth mentoring — I can clearly see what younger me needed:
Tools to manage pressure instead of being crushed by it
Strategies to understand anxiety and turn it into energy
The ability to challenge that imposter voice and replace it with truth
Skills to regulate emotions during high-stakes moments
Confidence that wasn’t dependent on performance alone
Not to eliminate the emotions — but to harness them.
If I’d had those tools then, I would’ve played with more freedom. More joy. More clarity. I would’ve understood that pressure means you care, anxiety means you’re human, and emotions are meant to be guided, not feared.
Why This Matters for the Next Generation
Today, one of the most meaningful parts of my journey is helping young players develop the psychological tools I wish I’d had. The modern game is fast, intense, competitive — and the internal world of a young athlete can be even more chaotic.
When I mentor players now, whether in schools, clubs, or academies, my goal is simple:
equip them to win the battles no one else sees.
Because talent gets you noticed, but your inner game determines how far you go.
Looking back at Arsenal reminds me why this work matters so much. It’s not just about developing footballers — it’s about helping young people understand themselves, trust themselves, and thrive under pressure.
And if sharing my own story helps even one young player feel less alone in their struggles, then it’s a chapter of my journey I’m proud to talk about.