Still feel like you're losing in your life...
you’re closer than you think
I once had a dream. I was speaking, but no one could hear me. My mouth sang do, re, mi, but the sound never vibrated in the air. The thick Miami humidity swallowed it.
I spoke louder. Still, silence.
People moved around me like shadows, distant… and sometimes just plain cold. Unlike Spiderman, I could see the ripple effects. I didn’t get any goosebumps though.
But they did.
I saw it rising on their arms. But somehow, they didn’t hear me. They only stared. So, I screamed. Nothing.
Ever feel like that? Like you’re giving your all, and the world barely blinks?
I know that feeling too well. For years, my stutter did the same thing to me. I would speak, but my words wouldn’t land. They would get swallowed before they ever reached the room. Silence felt safer than the sting of trying.
That dream wasn’t just in my head. It showed up again under stadium lights. Another night where you leave everything on the pitch. Even your breath. Your shirt is soaked in sweat. You keep trying to score, but the ball? Hits the post. Again and again.
In your head, you’re like: Wait… I didn’t sign up for a crossbar challenge. I came to score goals. Win games.
So you keep telling yourself: Maybe this time… this will be my moment. If I just do this and that… But the more you chase it, the further it feels. It’s easy to think: Maybe I should just quit. Maybe it’s not my night. Then again, what if the ache in your chest is proof you’re almost there? Still growing?
Because let’s be real, sometimes growing feels exactly like losing. Like showing up, giving your all, and getting nothing back but sweat stains.
And nothing captures that tension better than football. After 45 minutes of chaos, you get only one time out to breathe, listen to your coach, soak in the dressing room pep talk from your captain and jump right back in.
Whether you’re down 0–2 or just off your rhythm, you show up with your feet and focus in sync. Because if your heart’s not in it, none of it matters.
You zone in when your captain says: calma! calma! or press the other team when you lose the ball. The 50–50 duels? You show up like it’s life or death.
You don’t press like a headless chicken. You pick your moment. You commit, body, mind, and soul.
Manchester City scored twice in five minutes against my team, Paris Saint‑Germain. The ball ricocheted off our own players and landed perfectly at their feet. And just like that, we were two goals down.
Still, I believed. Even at 0–2, I held on. Because anything can happen if you believe and keep fighting for the result.
On January 22, 2025, we made history with a comeback that made no sense on paper, four goals in thirty minutes against one of Europe’s best. We didn’t unravel by screaming at refs when a call was unfair. We didn’t let the situation dictate our response. If they tackled us and took the ball, we pressed hard enough to force predictable mistakes. We kept showing up, no matter what.
And maybe that’s why this comeback hit me so deep. Because in my own way, I’ve been in that game long before I ever stepped on a pitch. My voice was benched for years. My stutter kept me quiet when I wanted to speak. Every time I showed up, it felt like taking the field two goals down. But just like in football, you don’t win if you stop showing up.
Now you might be thinking: Okay, but why are we still talking about football?
Because… sometimes in real life, it feels like you’re always losing. The more effort you put in, the more frustrated you feel because the results just don’t match up. But not every setback is a sign you messed up. Some of it is God strengthening what won’t break next time.
Even when it feels like nothing’s working. You’re most likely closer than you think. If we give up in our head, then we lose in real life. And let me tell you friends: the enemy doesn’t come at us with negative thoughts unless we’re a threat. Unless breakthrough is close. Because in the end we win.
And this game reminded me of something holy: As long as the clock’s still ticking, hope isn’t done yet.
Heart Call:
God wants to give us strength to keep going if we simply ask. All it takes is one more minute on the pitch.
Is there a place in your life where effort feels invisible right now?
What would it look like to invite God to meet you there, even if you’re limping?
Photo Credits: Getty Images et PSG