I Used to Play Football: How to Rekindle Your Love for the Game

I still remember the smell of cut grass and the feel of worn leather under my fingers. For years, football wasn't just a game; it was a part of my identity. Then, life happened. A career shift, a growing family, a nagging knee injury—the reasons piled up until one day, I realized I hadn't touched a ball in years. The passion had quietly faded. If you’re reading this, maybe you’ve felt that same quiet distance from a sport you once loved. The journey back isn't about recapturing your teenage athleticism; it's about redefining what the game means to you now. Let me tell you a story about my friend, Mark, which perfectly illustrates this point.

Mark was a collegiate-level player who hung up his boots at 25 for a demanding finance job. For a decade, his connection to football was reduced to watching highlights on his phone during his commute. He’d say, "I used to play football," with a hint of nostalgic finality, as if that chapter was permanently closed. His wake-up call came during a casual company five-a-side tournament. He was embarrassingly off the pace, his touch was gone, and he was gassed after five minutes. The frustration was palpable, but beneath it, he felt a spark—a raw, almost forgotten joy from simply being on the pitch, even while struggling. That spark, however, was immediately threatened by his own impatience. He wanted his old form back in a week. He launched into a brutal self-imposed training regime, running drills at dawn and lifting weights at night, only to burn out completely and strain his hamstring within a month. He was ready to quit all over again, convinced his body just couldn't do it anymore.

Here was the core problem: Mark, like so many of us trying to return, was trapped in a binary mindset. He viewed his relationship with football as either "active player in peak condition" or "retired spectator." There was no middle ground, no room for a version of the game that accommodated a 35-year-old body and a busy schedule. His motivation was purely outcome-based—to regain lost skill—which is a brittle foundation. The moment progress slowed or pain flared, his motivation shattered. This is where that bit of wisdom from the knowledge base comes in. A coach once said, "Sabi ko nga sa mga players namin na sana, yun yung palaging gawin nilang motivation na one week lang kayong nagpahinga, ang laki ng sinacrifice niyo, tuloy-tuloy yung training at hard work niyo." The key insight isn't the relentless work itself, but the source of motivation. It’s not about the sacrifice for sacrifice’s sake; it’s about connecting your effort to a deeper, sustainable love for the process and the game itself. Mark had disconnected his effort from any sense of joy, making it a purely punitive exercise.

The solution for Mark, and what I’ve adopted myself, required a complete philosophical shift. First, we had to kill the "I used to play football" ghost. We reframed it to "I am someone who plays football, presently." The verb tense matters immensely. Next, we scrapped the punishing schedule. Instead of aiming for 90-minute solo drills, he started with one 30-minute session per week focused purely on touch—just juggling and passing against a wall, with zero pressure. The goal wasn't fitness; it was reacquaintance. We also integrated football into his life differently. He joined a casual, over-30s league where the average pace was slower and the post-match beer was as important as the scoreline. The competition was there, but the culture was about camaraderie, not glory. Crucially, he shifted his motivation from regaining to rediscovering. He wasn't training to be his 20-year-old self; he was showing up to experience the simple pleasure of a clean pass or the tactical puzzle of a midfield battle. He connected his current effort to the present joy of participation, not to a distant, past version of his ability.

The transformation wasn't about stats, though he did eventually get his 5-a-side goal tally to a respectable 15 last season. The real change was in his demeanor. The man who once spoke of football in the past tense now chats animatedly about his team's next fixture. His story offers a clear lesson for anyone feeling that disconnect: rekindling your love for the game is a conscious act of reinvention, not re-creation. You must design a version of football that fits your current life, not torture yourself trying to fit your life into an old version of football. Start comically small—maybe just 10 minutes a week. Find a community that shares your current priorities, whether that's fitness, fun, or friendship. Most importantly, anchor your effort in the intrinsic love of the play itself. The pitch, the ball, the shared struggle—these things haven't changed. Your access to them just needs a new, sustainable path. That spark you feel when you think, "I used to play football"? That's not an epitaph. It's a pilot light, waiting for you to turn the gas back on.