The year on the sideline

I did not “play football for four years.” I chose it again and again, most of all in the seasons when walking away would have been easier.

In my first season with the Beijing Cyclones I broke the fifth metatarsal in my left foot — a Jones fracture — before I had played a single game. Ten months of recovery. I missed every game that year — and not one practice. Three nights a week I was on the sideline. While my teammates ran routes I drew offensive plays, built game plans, broke down film, and worked on the team’s nutrition — learning the sport from the outside in.

That year taught me something I did not expect: leadership does not require you to be on the field.

I came back the second season. Dropped passes early. In the semifinal Shanghai’s best cornerback shut me down completely. We lost.

The third season was my senior year — internship, graduate applications, six a.m. training before a nine a.m. start at the office, three evening practices a week. I broke a rib in the opener. I was back before the playoffs. We reached the final and lost again. After the whistle I pulled the team together — not because I wanted to, but because the moment needed someone to.

Then I moved to the United States for graduate school.

I could not put it down. I ran routes alone, with no quarterback, in parking lots and public fields, learning new plays off a laptop. When the Cyclones reached the 2025 CNFL national final I bought a ticket, flew back mid-semester, made five practices in two weeks, and started and played the full game.

Five catches. Seventy yards. National champions.

Some things you do for the trophy. Some things you do for the people standing next to you. For me it was always both.