What I’d Tell My Younger Self - CRUEL WORDS!!!
Welcome to Thursday Thoughts — where every week I share what I'd tell my younger self, from chasing a pro career to playing 10 years at the top and running Just4keepers for over 25 years, so you can fast-track your dream. This week is for the keeper who's been cut deep by cruel comments — and the parent who's watched it happen. I know that feeling. The silent car ride home, fighting back tears. The sick feeling when a teammate blames you for a goal. The parent on the sideline muttering you're "too small" or "not good enough." I lived in that dark place for six years. No pro academy. Rejected by everyone, laughed at, told I was terrible. At 17 and a half I was just an ordinary kid in the school common room, wondering why I even bothered putting the gloves on. Their words made me feel worthless. But I refused to quit. While they talked, I worked. I trained every single day — rain, mud, snow. When nobody was watching and nobody believed in me, I kept sharpening my technique and outworking everyone. My dream was bigger than their opinions. Then everything changed. At 18 I went straight from that school desk to signing for Everton FC. Two years later, the legendary Howard Kendall and Welsh international Neville Southall — one of the greatest keepers ever — looked at me and said, "You've got it." They recommended me to England legend Peter Shilton at Plymouth Argyle, launching my 10-year pro career. If I could grab that broken 17-year-old by the shoulders today, here's what I'd tell him — and every keeper and parent reading this: 1. They were dead wrong.The people who tore me down didn't know a thing. Two of the greatest keepers in history rated me. The critics were just noise. Yours are too. 2. The "T-Shirt" Rule.Be polite. Smile. Nod. Then shut the door on them. Only take advice from people who've been there, done it, and got the t-shirt. If they've never stood between the pro sticks, their opinion doesn't count. 3. Turn insults into fuel.Don't swallow cruel words and let them poison you. Store them. Then spend them in your next session — on that last burning sprint, picture their faces. Let their doubt become the engine that makes you undeniable.