The Responsibility of a Captain

I never paid too much attention or thought to the downsides of being the captain. It was always a goal. It was a mission. Not a realistic one, but one that is important to have. Why wouldn’t I make it my goal? It was based on a competition between players being themselves. There was never a cost to nominate yourself. I knew it was an honor. Supposedly an award for being the best player on your team. It was attractive and cool. I didn’t know anyone who didn’t want it even though most knew they could never have it. They knew that they would never even get to touch it. But some of us - the crazy, the brave, the delusional - somehow believed we were equipped for the job. 

It was obviously outside of my scope of practice. I was never the best player. Never outstanding. Never on par with whom I recognized as the best of the best of the best. Never a locker-room personality. Never leading anyone. 

I played with some really, really good players. Players that achieved nothing. Players that came and went like most young dreamers do. They were players that had everything without having anything. They were the Stars. Like a class system, the aristocratic Stars were chosen to “lead” the common folk. Aside from quality on the ball and being blessed with a soccer mind, there were two things that most of these players had in common: 1) They were not leaders, and 2) they desperately needed leadership. Letting Stars captain a soccer team is like an infant being responsible for feeding and putting its mother to bed. 

I was first named captain out of necessity. I was the 6th in line on my team to be considered for the job, but when I started my U16 season, five of our best players were promoted up to strengthen the older U17 team. Getting the armband did not feel as good as it should have. Being fully aware that I was only named captain out of desperation in the team, imposter syndrome kicked in and took over the pool of thoughts playing water-polo in my head. My teammates knew why I was named captain. I knew that they did not see me as their real captain. Their real captain, and vice and vice and vice and vice got promoted and were sent away. They were stuck with me. And the best and worst part of the whole thing is that they were right and that I believed them. 

Understanding my lack of experience in leadership and void of any nucleus of ideas on how to lead a team, my way, allowed me to start my journey. Acknowledging that I needed to learn something allowed me to start learning it. Accepting the responsibility of leadership cornered me into figuring it out. 

There are many types of leaders and many versions of great captains on the pitch. Most of them were scary to even think about emulating. I needed to find someone who was like me. The closest thing to me that I ever watched on TV was Nemanja Vidic. There was nothing special about him. A mere mortal, yet a lion on the pitch. Vidic wasn’t better than Rooney or Ronaldo. Tevez or Berbatov. Not even better than Ferdinand, Paul Scholes, or Patrice Evra, yet he was the leader. I knew I could be just like him: A warrior on the pitch, leading by his example of loyalty, dedication, commitment, and focus to his club, team, and players. That’s who I wanted to be. 

With every game that went by, with every large disappointment or disproportional spurt of joy, I understood more and more that my role as a captain was to lead, and leading was not about what we perceive captaining to be. It is about doing the opposite of most of what we think. It is not about enjoying the podium and waving to the fans. It is about finding ways to get your teammates, your brothers in arms, to believe that they don’t need you. You set the stage for them. You let them shine. You are given the weight of the world and then you have to learn to put it away, piece by piece, until the ship can steadily sail forward without a round of applause for the captain. 

Once I accepted that it wasn’t for the glory and it wasn’t to be seen as a better player, I was able to be a focused captain who was doing it for the right reasons. I wanted to be the best leader I could be. And I believe that being able to step up and lead with humility is the most honorable thing a man or woman can do. It was and still is the ideal. And just like Nemanja Vidic, and many other heroes of mine, on and off the pitch, I wanted and still want to aim for the ideal. 

Discovering the symptoms and side effects of being named captain changed the way I saw the game. It was no longer just teammates fighting together as equals. It was a discovery of responsibility. My responsibility was to help my teammates discover the weight sitting on their shoulders - their own responsibility. It wasn’t something anyone wanted. No ordinary man is thrilled to accept responsibility, but it is an especially tough order to get teenage boys to adopt it. I lost friends and I made mistakes. I disappointed my coach and continuously questioned my own abilities. But it was me, all alone. Just by wrapping a piece of stretchy plastic around my skinny right arm, I started learning about leadership. 

I learned that it was cool for five minutes. I learned that leadership can interfere with player development. I learned that players don’t like their captain. I learned that no one really wants to be the captain. It is only for the delusional few, who for whatever insane reason are willing to give away pieces of themselves that they would never get back. They are willing to sacrifice being a player. Like Frodo and the Ring, once that strip of elastic wraps around your biceps, connecting one end of the armband to the other, the near end beautifully overlapping the far end, to find its place on your arm, positioning the ‘C’ in line with the direction of your shoulder, you become a new person, in a new world, on a new Journey.