My first day at the Stockholm Academy was a strange one. Although I was exited and nervous, all the usual feelings you get when you’re starting a new chapter, I could almost feel the shadow of something much larger looming over me.
It was my dream to be a part of the SSL, and even more of a dream to be accepted into my own city’s team, but I knew I’d only be here for a season. Then my life would change again.

I spent hours in the evenings looking at the history of the organisations, where they were based, their squads, their needs. I mean there was no guarantee I’d even be drafted by any of them. Some players aren’t, and they go on to become free agents, hoping a team will come back in for them. This wasn’t an option for me. I’d make sure I was picked as early as possible.

Most of my spare time was spent at the Academy facility, even more so than before. This meant I lost contact with friends I’d made at school. They were all heading to college now, and our priorities drifted further apart. They were studying, but mainly partying, and I’d be getting up early to take the morning train into the city for training, or the late train back to get home after a match. We tried staying in touch for a while, but the texts and calls gradually got less and less frequent, until it became a once in a blue moon message now every now and then, more out of politeness more than anything else I guess.

>hey how you been, we should catch up at some point< 

But luckily the Academy introduced me to new friends. We started out as just teammates sharing a pitch, but this deepened over the course of the highs and lows of the season. Not all of them were total strangers though. I think it was my 2nd day at the academy or so when I recognised someone I’d played against before in our school-team years. He actually lived in the next town along from me, so despite not knowing each other too well, it was nice to not be completely on my own. His name was Kairo Vox, and we’d go on to form a good connection over the next year, on the pitch and off it.

The first few weeks were tough, football-wise. Everyone was talented. Everyone deserved to be here. The problem was, I was questioning whether I did. They’d all come in to the academy having been the best somewhere else before. All with their own stories and dreams of where they wanted to be.

The training was intense. It moved faster than I was used to, which meant my mistakes were punished a lot quicker. The coaches started to expect more from me. I was going home exhausted most nights. One time I fell asleep on the night train home, and Voxy had to nudge me to tell me I was at my stop. It wasn’t just the physical exhaustion, I’d get home and not want to have to speak to my mum, to the point I’d sometimes dread walking through the front door.

I entered the academy as a blank canvas. Originally, they told me I’d be playing as a wing-back on the right, as this suited me the most. Up to now I’d spent time playing all over, always being told it was because I could. Coaches knew they could put me anywhere and knew they could trust me to perform there. But I knew this wouldn’t cut it now, and I had to to nail down a position of my own.

I can’t lie, I was disappointed to be told I’d be mainly playing as a defender to start with. I’d always liked to create, liked to score, basically to be involved in the big moments in games. But on the other hand, I didn’t want to disappoint. I’ll always remember something the gaffer told me when he could see something was off with my game and he pulled me to one side during training and asked me what was up, and I said I’m feeling a bit uncomfortable playing there. It surprised him, as he said he’d seen enough of me over the past few seasons at Bromma to know new positions rarely phased me. I was honest with him and said I don’t feel my strengths are defending. He said “You’re not a defender. That’s just where you start on the pitch.” And it was like a light bulb had flicked on in my head.

After that the game started to slow down for me again and I went from reacting to events unfolding, to anticipating them happening before they did, just like it used to.

Match day 1 arrived, our first game was away to Victoria Falls Eagles, who were the reigning champions of the Academy, two years on the trot. I remember going into the game thinking this would be the perfect opportunity to see where me and the team were at. In the locker room before the game the gaffer came up to me and said “Remember, you’re not a defender, I don’t want to see you playing like one.” I knew exactly what he meant.

Straight from kick-off we went on the attack, and the ball landed at my feet on the right and I had just their left-back ahead of me, and went for it. Everything felt like it was in slow motion as I went to knock the ball past him...and he just dispossessed me, so easily. It was a bit of a shock but I knew I needed to raise my levels from here on out.

I never wanted to be a player that would let the fear of what if, affect my game. I spent way too much time growing up fearing things after my dad died. I often pictured him sitting in the crowd during games. Eventually I stopped doing that, because although I know he’s not here physically, I can feel him watching over me. And as cliched that is to say, I know it’s true.

We were playing well against the title-holders, we were 2-1 up after 38 minutes. And then I got my goal with a move started and finished by me. The way the ball moved between us was like it was following a path already laid out for it. Everything is lines and shapes when you break them down, and that’s something I’ve always been well aware of. The ball fell to our left-back Geronimo (Datbasted) who whipped in a cross. And I just waited as it floated towards me. I’m not the tallest guy on the pitch, but at that moment I felt it. I cushioned a header into the corner, to give us a 3-1 lead. Not bad for a “defender” eh?

In our second match against Port Royal, I knew I needed to carry this form on, and although I didn’t score I walked away with the Player of the Match award for an assist, and three clear-cut chances I’d created. It was then I finally felt like I did deserve to be here.

Before our third match against Jakarta, the gaffer approached me and asked how I felt about being captain that night. My response was two words: I’m ready.

We won 5-0.

Three wins from our first three, with 12 goals scored and only 2 conceded, including 2 clean-sheets. We really did feel unstoppable at that moment and the atmosphere in the dressing room was incredible, and I was so glad to be apart of it, apart of something much bigger than I had been part of before.

Another comfortable 2-0 win against Atletico in 4th match followed that, and our confidence individually, and as a team was growing by the day. But confidence is a dangerous thing and probably epitomises youth in general. You think you’re invincible, and that breeds more confidence. Until eventually something happens that undoes all that, because it’s something you weren’t prepared for.

The game in matchday 5 against Istanbul caught us all by surprise. We were flying high, they were at the opposite end. We lost 5-2, and it was a warning sign that we can’t be going in to games thinking they were already won. I’ve always been quite a modest person, there’s certain type of confidence about me, but I don’t like arrogance. But it’s so easy to be swept into the current when things are going well, and you’re surrounded by teammates who are being swept along it too.

We did bounce back from that last defeat, though, with a 2-0 win against our then title rivals, Adowa Accra, to put us back in top spot.

We had one game left before the half way point of the season, and we were eager to finish it on a high. We were playing bottom of the league Sydney City, but yet again it showed us just how thin that line of confidence can be as Sydney took an early lead. There was an anxiousness emanating around the team, and we all felt it. All the lines and shapes that were usually there seemed to dissolve. One thing about currents is that they can go both ways. And right now we seemed to be trying to swim against it. It reminded me of something Liv once said to me on our last day together:

“Letting go is not losing. If it’s meant for you, it will flow back, if not, let it drift away.”

I’m not too sure why I thought about that right at that very moment. But I stopped and took a deep breath in and out to calm my mind and quieten the noise and let the emotions and frustrations fall away. I looked up and saw Vox on the left flank looking at me, and felt the unseen connections rebuilding, like neurons in a brain.

A short throw on the right by Nige (Mendoza) picked out Baptiste (Azzola), who played it to me first-time just outside the box, and I knew where the ball was going even before it got to me and didn’t even need to look where I was sending it. I knew he’d be there. And the ball dropped perfectly to Vox who placed a simple header at the back post into the empty net, which grabbed us a late point. Some will say it was just right place right time, and if they think that, it’s cool. But I know it was something more.

So halfway through the season we were sat comfortably in 1st. But as is life, things almost never go how you expect them to, and you need lows to be able to appreciate the highs.