Showing Up

On Friday evening, I stood in the cold at the football training ground, and I was tired in a way that sits deep in your bones. I had just come back from a business trip. My head was full of Excel files, product data, meetings that still needed preparation. My wife was not happy that I left again so soon after returning home. And honestly, my mood was low.

For a short moment, I thought about sending a message. Just one simple sentence: “Sorry guys, I can’t make it today.”

But I didn’t.

I put on my boots and went to training.

For me, being on time is not a small thing. It is not just about minutes. It is about respect. Respect for the other people who show up. Respect for the team. Respect for the commitment we all make to each other.

Yesterday, one of the players came ten minutes late. Last week it was the same. Maybe for him it was nothing. For me, it was something. It felt like he was saying, without words, that his time is more important than ours. And this is difficult for me to accept.

I grew up with the idea that you fight for what you want in life. My parents were clear about that. Nothing is handed to you. No one will spoon-feed you. If you want something, you work for it. You show up. You give your best.

Punctuality, discipline, doing what you say you will do — these are not big philosophical ideas for me. They are daily habits. Small proofs of character.

Maybe that is why I struggle sometimes with younger players in our team. We are at the bottom of the league. Our goal this year is simple: stay in the league. Not even to win it. Just to survive.

To do that, we need commitment. We need the same eleven players on the field as often as possible. We need to know how the other one moves, thinks, reacts. A football team is not eleven individuals. It is a system of trust.

But some of the younger guys cancel because of a fun fair. Because they are not “in the mood.” Because there are 100 other things.

Of course, football is a hobby. We all have jobs. We all have families. When I cannot come because I am in Austria visiting customers, that is different. That is responsibility. When someone stays away because of an event that could easily wait, that is a decision.

And decisions show values.

I see this also in my professional life. I work as a regional salesperson. My to-do list is always long. Updating product data. Listing new products. Preparing meetings with key account managers. Filling out huge Excel sheets with sell-by dates and technical details.

Sometimes it feels overwhelming.

But I prepare carefully. Before meetings, I write notes. I study the company. I try to understand how the person “ticks.” For me, relationships are built brick by brick. Slowly. With patience. With honesty.

If a customer rejects me, I stay calm. Experience has taught me that sometimes they come back later. Trust grows step by step. You cannot force it.

In business, like in football, I value respect. Honesty. Responsibility. I don’t need to be best friends with my colleagues. It is nice to have a good relationship. But what matters more is that everyone does his job as well as he can.

I think this comes from my childhood. I was not a good student. I was lazy. School was not easy for me. I did not enjoy it. But my parents were strict in one thing: you go to school. There is no discussion.

In ten years of school, I missed maybe two weeks. Not because I loved it. But because it was my duty.

That discipline shaped me more than I understood at that time.

Now I am a father myself. My son is two years old. When I look at him, I think about the world he will grow up in. He will never know a life without the internet. He will grow up with artificial intelligence as something normal. For him, it will not be new or special. It will simply exist.

Sometimes I ask myself if technology is the reason why focus seems weaker today. But honestly, I don’t know. Maybe every generation thinks the next one has less discipline.

What I do know is this: my son will watch me every day.

He will see if I keep my promises. He will see if I say, “I am too tired,” or if I go to training anyway. He will see how I treat his mother. How I speak about work. How I handle stress.

I believe there are two ways to teach values. The first is by example. The second is by guidance.

If one day he tells me, “Dad, I don’t feel like going to football training,” I will try to explain that football is a team sport. That other boys depend on him. That his mood is not always the most important thing.

That doesn’t mean ignoring feelings. It means understanding responsibility.

As an adult, my problems are different from when I was a child. Today I think about how to give my family a good life. How to manage finances. How to balance work trips and family time. How to support my wife and still take care of my own health.

I once said something in a conversation that stayed with me: it is my job to manage the problems so that my family feels safe.

Of course, my wife does the same from her side. We support each other. On paper, this sounds simple. In real life, it is sometimes very hard.

There are evenings when both of us are tired. When the child is not sleeping. When work was stressful. In those moments, discipline is not about football or punctuality. It is about patience. About not letting frustration take control.

I think that is what values really are. Not words. Not theories. But behaviour when you are tired. When no one is watching. When it would be easier to choose comfort instead of commitment.

When I went to training last Friday, I was not motivated. I was not full of energy. But after running on the field, after laughing with the team, after pushing my body, I felt stronger. Not only physically. Mentally.

Football gives me strength. It clears my head. It reminds me that I am part of something bigger than my own problems.

And maybe that is why punctuality matters so much to me. Because when we all show up — on time, prepared, committed — something powerful happens. We create trust. We create stability. We create a small system where everyone can rely on the other.

In a world that changes faster every year, maybe that is what I hold on to.

Not because I am old-fashioned.

But because I believe that showing up — fully, honestly, on time — is still one of the simplest and strongest ways to say: You can count on me.