"So…what are you going to do about it?"

Hello everyone, Hector here…

I was 14 years old and we were about to play the semifinal of the high school tournament in Caracas.

Now, this was not just any semifinal. This was the derby. The two biggest schools in the city. Everybody talked about this game for weeks…parents, teachers, the kids that didn't even play soccer. Everybody.

And we didn't play well. I didn't play well.

Nothing dramatic. I didn't get injured, the other team wasn't from another planet…I just wasn't in it that day. My touches were not the best, my passing was off, and to be honest…I wasn't giving my max effort. I was going through the motions in the biggest game of the year. And I remember walking off that field knowing I hadn't given everything. That's a feeling you don't forget.

It was a 2-game series, so we still had the second game a week later. But that night, I didn't want to talk about it. I didn't want to hear about it. I just wanted to go home.

What my dad did NOT do

My dad was at that game. He was at every game.

He didn't yell at me in the car. He didn't tell me the coach should've done this or that. He didn't tell me I played well to make me feel better, because I hadn't and we both knew it.

He also didn't give me a speech. No motivational quote, no "you'll get them next time"…nothing like that.

When we got home, he asked me ONE question:

"So…what are you going to do about it?"

And before I could answer, he added: "If I were you, I would run the stairs up and down."

That's it. That was the whole conversation.

What I did about it

Guess what I did…

Of course, I put on my tennis shoes and I started running the stairs as soon as I got home after the game. Up and down. Up and down. For the next hour or so. Nobody was checking on me. Nobody was counting. My dad went to do his thing, and I was there, alone, sweating in the middle of the house like a crazy person, haha.

Was I getting fitter in one hour of stairs? No. Let's be honest, one hour doesn't do that.

But that's not what the stairs were for.

Every single step I was telling myself: I'm working harder than anybody else right now…the next game is MINE. By the time I got done, that feeling was in my chest. It wasn't hope. It wasn't "I think I'll play better". It was: I already paid for this.

Second game. We won 3-0. I scored 2 goals and had an assist.

And I can tell you with 100% honesty…that game is one of the best memories of my whole life, and it is NOT because of the goals. It's because of what I did in between the two games to get there.

The lesson (it's not about the stairs)

Confidence is not something you feel and then go do the work. It's the other way around.

You do the work first…and the confidence shows up after, as a receipt. Every time. That's why kids who "just need more confidence" almost never get it from being told they are good. They get it from KNOWING they did something nobody else did.

And here's the part for the adults reading this…

My dad had two options that night. He could've fixed my feelings. Or he could've given my feelings back to me and let me decide what to do with them. He picked the second one, and the way he did it was a question, not a lecture.

"What are you going to do about it?" puts the ball on the kid's foot. It says: I trust you to respond. And a kid who feels trusted to respond…responds.

So…the next time the game goes bad (and it will, this is soccer), I'd challenge you to try two things:

1. Don't rush to fix it in the car. Let it be bad for a minute. The sting is useful. It's fuel.

2. Ask the question. "So…what are you going to do about it?" And then be quiet. The answer doesn't have to be stairs. It can be 30 minutes on the wall. It can be juggling in the backyard. It can be going to training early. What matters is that THEY chose it and THEY did it.

And if you are the kid reading this…you don't need to wait for anybody to ask you. Ask yourself. A bad game is not a bad player. A bad game is an invitation.

I'm rooting for you. Go run your stairs.

Always More,

Hector