I’m 8 years old and sitting in the Stoney Creek dressing room before our team’s first practice. 

My coach asks “who wants to try goalie?”

I freeze. 

Part of me wants nothing more than to shoot my hand up. I idolized every Leafs goalie, always pretending to be “The Cat” while playing road hockey with my friends.

But the other part of me is paralyzed by fear – fear of letting my teammates down, fear of looking silly, fear of not being good enough.

And most of all, a fear of getting hurt.

A few years earlier, I had broken my femur in soccer. Months in a body cast left me physically healed but mentally scarred.

That injury lived rent-free in my head. It made me play the “What if?” game.

“What if I get hurt?”
“What if I embarrass myself?”
“What if I blow it?” 

So, I didn’t raise my hand.

Injuries gave me the excuse to stay quiet, play small, and avoid risk.

I let fear hold me back and I never got to play goalie.

Sidelines and Second Chances

I went on to play competitive hockey as a defenceman growing up, but always wondering what my career would look like if I had raised my hand.

Once high-school came, I made the football team. This became my priority. This was my chance to rewrite the story.

My coach told me I’d get to play both sides of the ball and I was fired up.

And then one drill changed everything.

It’s called the Oklahoma Drill. Two players line up head-to-head and see who can drive the other back. The biggest lineman on the team stepped up. Nobody wanted him.

The biggest lineman on the team was up next, and nobody wanted to go up against him.

“Finally”, I thought, “This is my chance to prove myself”.

We hit, and pain shot through my hand like fire. I tried to gut it out for a few games, but every snap felt worse. The X-rays confirmed it – broken hand, badly.

I missed nearly the whole season. By the time I returned, my aggression was gone and my confidence had vanished. Instead of diving back in, I played it safe, haunted by the fear of re-injury.

Another dream shelved. Another “What if?” added to the pile. 

Going For It… Again

High-school ended, and I was off to university shortly – but football was still tugging at me.

The regret that I felt motivated me to take another shot.

I trained through the summer, hit the weights, and walked onto campus ready to prove myself. This was supposed to be the rewrite.

Then it happened again.

A torn pectoral muscle – a sharp pain that shot through my whole body. A feeling I’ll never forget.

One second I was driving the bar up, the next I couldn’t even lift my arm. 

While everyone else was chasing glory, I was chasing range of motion.

Pivoting to a New Hope

Maybe bobsleigh could be my shot.

I had the size, power, and speed to earn an invite to Canada’s development program. For the first time, it felt like a door opening.

But when the day finally came, the same doubts crept in.

I stood on the sidelines, telling the coaches I wasn’t at 100% yet (even though I was cleared).

Every trial felt like a reminder that the world was moving on without me. My potential teammates laced up, ready to go to war together – while I hovered around convincing myself I wasn’t “ready”.

The truth? I was terrified. Terrified my chest would snap again. Terrified I’d collapse in front of everyone. Terrified the coaches wouldn’t see what I had to offer, and I was wasting their time.

Each time the coaches reached out – You good to go? You ready to come back? – their voices carried hope.

And each time, I turned away.

I told myself I needed “more time,” but deep down I knew I was running from the very thing I said I wanted.

Every ignored call felt like another grain of sand slipping through the hourglass of my career.

Was the 5th Time the Charm?

By the time I picked up tennis, the pattern was already familiar: bold in practice, hesitant in matches.

The difference this time? I had a coach who understood me.

For years I tried to figure it out alone, hiding behind teammates, injuries, and excuses. But now I had someone in my corner who saw the fear I couldn’t name.

After one timid performance, he told me:

“I give you permission to lose. Stop playing scared. Take the risks. Losing is where you learn. And those lessons will turn into wins.”

It felt like a door unlocked. Mistakes weren’t proof I was failing – they were proof I was growing. Losing wasn’t the end – it was part of the process.

That was the shift I’d been missing all along.

It wasn’t tennis by itself that changed me. It was realizing that with the right coach, the right guidance, and the right mindset, I didn’t have to figure it all out alone.

And for the first time, I started playing free.

From Athlete to Coach

I finally understood my biggest opponent wasn’t across from me – it was inside of me. Fear had dictated my choices for too long.

But once I learned to embrace risk, welcome mistakes, and play without fear – sport became fun again.

That’s what pulled me into Mental Performance Coaching. I knew other athletes were carrying the same fears and doubts. And I wanted to help them break free sooner than I did.

Because the same skills that help you take risks in sport are the ones that carry you through life.

My passion now is simple: to make sure athletes don’t let fear dictate their story. To help them play free, bold, and without regret.

I know what it’s like to sit on the sidelines wondering “What if?” – and I know the freedom that comes when you stop asking and start living the answer.

You can learn more about Coach Adam by clicking the video below: