Why I Retired From Football At 17

In May 2014 I had just finished my higher exams at Linlithgow Academy and was spending the subsequent weeks left of the school term selecting the highers and advanced highers I planned to take in my final year. I’d always planned to go to university – football for me had always been a hobby – something that helped me maintain discipline, meet new people and keep fit from the age of eight onward. I’d been in and around the Scottish pro-youth scene for the majority of my adolescence, having signed for my first professional club Livingston (to whom I bizarrely have a relationship with again long after a decade hiatus) at the age of 11 as a goalkeeper. Thereafter, I signed for Hibernian FC when I was thirteen, where I spent two and a half years travelling from Linlithgow to Tranent three-to-four times per week, before being released and signing for Falkirk, a club close to home who helped reinstate my confidence after a mixed time in Edinburgh. As the end of the 12/13 season came to a close, and at the age of sixteen, I made the most mature and grounded decision of my life up to that point, for which I still receive comments about. I decided, with my highers beginning in September, I would step back from pro-youth football altogether in order to give full focus to achieving the best possible grades to give myself as many university options as possible. During this year adapting to the increase in difficulty of my subjects, I joined Edinburgh boys club side AC Oxgangs, the coach of whom was the dad of a teammate of mine while I was at Livingston. I completely fell in love with football again. I loved the competitiveness of boy’s club football, which contrasts to the system of pro-youth football where there’s no league table, no cup competitions and nothing to play for other than self-development. I loved the changing room atmosphere, where every teammate wanted to win as much as the boy alongside him, differing to the ‘look after yourself’ mentality of pro-youth, reinforced by a statement made by one of my former head-of-youth’s at one of my previous clubs: “We’re not here to build teams, we’re here to build individuals”. I now existed in an environment where I loved playing football, and as anyone who has played the game at any level will tell you, enjoyment has a direct impact on performance levels: I was playing the best football of my life. Around 6 months into my time at Oxgangs, my dad was approached by an agent who had been monitoring me for several months. He wanted to represent me with the view of facilitating trials at several professional clubs upon the end of my season at Oxgangs. I was incredibly flattered and proud, but I didn’t know what to do. I had never considered a professional football career as a feasible possibility, having always wanted to go to university to study business management. Casting further doubt in my mind was that there had been several times in the past where I’d had frank discussions with my parents about if I had enough love for the game to continue playing at all. Those conversations, often with me in tears around our kitchen table had happened twice or three times as I progressed through the age group levels of pro-youth, so this was also at the back of my mind. If this crossroad situation had happened multiple times before, I was fearful of its resurgence. However, after a lengthy period of careful consideration, I came to the conclusion that this was an, although entirely unexpected, opportunity of a lifetime, and I should have absolutely no regrets surrounding it. My parents were, and still are, big on living a life without regrets and always keeping doors open, which is something I try to adopt in my day-to-day life. Due to our aligning philosophy as a family, although I wasn’t entirely happy about the prospect of not finishing high-school, I allowed the agency to represent me, and a trial fortnight at Heart of Midlothian was facilitated, weeks after they were relegated to the Scottish championship due to the club going into administration. After a successful few weeks at Riccarton, I was offered a two-year deal at Hearts, where I would train with the first team goalkeepers and train with the under-20’s side. I made the decision to sign the contract, meaning I would leave school one year earlier than anticipated. When my dad and I discuss how the opportunity at Hearts came along, the word ‘catapulted’ always crops up. This is probably the best word to describe it: I was catapulted from boy’s club football and boy’s club mentality in to a full time profession at the age of seventeen, having never mentally or physically planned for the hardship that would follow. My dad often likes to remind me also that I went camping at T in the Park for 4 days, came home on the Monday, and was training with Hearts on the Tuesday. I was a boy about to enter a mans game.

My agent warned me about a ‘champagne period’ that would occur shorty after signing, characterized by the press releases about me stimulating heightened attention, congratulatory messages, and coaches allowing me to bed in, as there would undoubtedly be a period of transition coming from a boys club straight into professional football. I was understandably overawed by the experience in the first few weeks; after all, I was in a position that thousands of young boys would give their right arm for, as I was constantly reminded. This period, as my agent described, lasted around three weeks before things became considerably less enjoyable as the reality of the world that I was now living in came to my full realization. This was my life now. I’d play football until I was in my late thirties (if I was lucky) and then move into coaching, or if I was smart, look after investments I’d made while I was a player. I have to be honest, when I thought about this scenario - as I did regularly - it was always clouded with a hint of sadness.

 My season started relatively well with a handful of decent performances before things started to become more difficult for me. I began to miss my friends who were all still at school. Due to the unpredictable nature of our training schedule, I struggled to make plans with my girlfriend at the time, constantly having to cancel plans to see her as the coaching staff decided that the young boys would train again in the late afternoon (often our third session of the day). I didn’t strike up good relationships with my teammates. I saw how much they wanted to make it as professional footballers. Most of my teammates had little to no higher qualifications from school, throwing everything they had at getting their one chance getting into the first team - clearly ill-advised by parents and coaches, but that is a different conversation entirely. As we headed towards the colder months, my performances started to dip and my confidence was rocked. My mindset was in such a difficult spot during those months: I loathed going into training every day and couldn’t wait to leave. My girlfriend and I split, my relationships with teammates became ever more strained, and my attitude and behavior manifested in various altercations with coaching staff. This is something that I am certainly not proud of. As most people will tell you, I’m an attentive student that respects authority and always gives everything in terms of commitment and dedication. My poor behavior during this period is indicative of what was going on in my mind: I was miserable, but didn’t want to let Hearts, or my agency who’d shown so much belief in me down.

Every day during my low period, I would walk to the boot room to collect my boots and gloves before training, and every day I would pass a sign on the back of the door on the way out. It was a plain white piece of laminated paper, and in bold black italics it read:

“Football doesn’t give you character, it finds out if you’ve got it”

Over time, this sign forced questions upon me that at the time, I didn’t have the tools to answer. I was playing poorly and desperately wanted a way out. Did this mean I had failed at football? Did this mean that didn’t have the character it takes to succeed in life? It pained me to see that sign every day. I imagine the sign was placed there to provide a spark of motivation for players to find something within themselves that could raise their game to the next level. For me, it was the opposite – this sign contributed to my poor mental state and resentment for aspects of the game. It was a symbol for all that I saw was wrong with the game and it's attitude towards those who don't completely buy into the footballing sphere, and all that goes along with it.

In January 2015, I was called into the managers office, where I was told that I was free to find another club. I would be allowed to stay and see out the rest of my two-year contract, of which I had a year and a half left, but it would involve limited game time. They knew it, I knew it: my time at Hearts hadn’t been what anyone had expected, most of all me. I have to say, this news came as a massive relief. My football nightmare was over. I called my parents and my agent and told them the news, and we all began to coordinate what to do next. It’s difficult to process when you think the next twenty years of your career is mapped out for you, only to have such a segway change everything.  My agent called me a few days later and told me that he’d arranged for me to go down to Blackburn Rovers for a trial week, but by that time I knew that my time playing football at a professional level was over - that level of elite football just wasn't for me. I wanted to go to University, and now i'd have the chance. I released a statement via twitter saying that I’d be leaving Hearts and retiring from the professional game for good. Furthermore, I quickly wrote a personal statement and applied for various universities across Scotland, as the deadline for September 2015 university starts in Scotland was 3 days after I left the club. It was certainly a hectic week. I was accepted into Glasgow Caledonian University to study Business Management, and from January until May I worked with my dad part time until my course started a few months later.

The reason that I’m telling you this is that I have just graduated with a First Class Honors Degree (1:1), and during my time at GCU, worked for a year in Boston, Massachusetts and will be travelling throughout South America in just less than two months time, before looking for further graduate job opportunities in the USA. I often think of that sign on the door of the boot room and ponder the real accuracy of the statement. I’ve recently come to the conclusion that it is just about as inaccurate a statement as could possibly be. If the statement had been true, I would have left Hearts as exactly the same person as when I first signed. That is completely untrue. My tough experiences at Hearts has helped to shape my character and has ultimately built up within me one of the most important qualities if one is to succeed in life: resilience. Resilience to criticism. Resilience to psychological hardship. Resilience to feeling that you’re not good enough to make it at a certain level, to feeling that you don’t have the ‘character’ to live a strong, confident and prosperous life. I worry for young, easily influenced boys reading that sign, who may not make it in football (after all, 95% don’t) and feel as though they have failed in life, and will never amount to anything substantial due to ‘lack of character’. Nonsense. We are all by-products of our surroundings and experiences, and I can say with full confidence that my experience at Hearts will benefit me in the future in business and in life. At 17, I was strong enough to say that a career in football just wasn't for me. I'm confident that I could have forged a decent career for myself, probably earning decent money to make a good living, but I chose not to. I knew that education was much more valuable to me in the long term. If this decision doesn't show elements of character then I'm not sure what does.

I also have the view that, when coaching young people, coaches have a duty of care to appropriately advise players around receiving an education. At a comparatively young age, I have already seen far too many former talented teammates fail to make the grade at premiership clubs, gradually trickling down the levels until they’re left without a team, without an education and without a trade in their mid-to-late twenties. This common pattern of circumstances, I have to say, may be further fueled by the parents of players, perhaps living their own dreams through the lives of their children. I recall a conversation between my group of under 20’s and a Heart of Midlothian coach regarding our weekly hour (Yes, one hour) of education that we legally had to carry out as we were of school age. The phrase that stuck with me from this conversation was “do it, but it’s not important. Focus on your football”. It’s this kind of ignorance from those living in the football sphere, voluntarily oblivious to the surroundings outside of bubble, that is detrimental to the majority of players who end up in ‘real’ jobs. 

The takeaway from this isn't philosophical by any stretch of the imagination. I tried something unique, it didn't work out - and I have absolutely no regrets. Because I decided that football wasn't for me doesn't mean that I lack character; in fact, quite the opposite. I was bold enough to go against the orthodox because it was something that I profoundly believed. I would also like to note that Hearts treated me extremely well regarding my exit, for which I will always be grateful.