An Ocean Away

And the struggles of trying to swim with the sharks.

***Fair warning: This isn’t a Celtics piece.***

It’s 11:15 pm as I start to write this. UK Time.

The Celtics will tip off their game against the Brooklyn Nets in an hour and 1:15 minutes. 12:30 am, to be precise.

That’s the world I live in.

Games are on late.

By the time I wake up, the excitement has died down. The conversation has begun to cool off. Hot takes have been exchanged. Press conferences wrapped up. And people are already analyzing what happened on the court.

On a weekday, I will get my first watch in around 5 am. Midnight Eastern. My second watch comes around 9 am — unless it’s a Jiu Jitsu day, then the re-watch is around 11 am.

That means, before I’m even ready to begin talking about the game, it’s morning on the East Coast.

I used to consider this a hindrance.

Being present is half the battle. That doesn’t necessarily mean in person, but the bare minimum is being seen on social media.

How can you expect to grow if you’re invisible to your target audience?

I don’t have that luxury.

Sure, my day-to-day consists of covering the league as a freelancer, with the majority of my work aggregating news. I set my own hours. I get to talk, well mainly write about, basketball all day. On paper, there’s no reason why I shouldn’t be pulling night shifts, right?

Wrong.

I’m a dad first and foremost. And while my daughter turns 15 in a few months, my number one priority is being present for her. That means being alert in the mornings. Doing the school runs. Helping with homework.

I’m also a husband, and once again, that is a priority. I want quality time with my wife. Not just passing grunts as I grab some sleep before jumping into the thick of things at what would be dinner time where I am.

So, I let those games pass me by. I watch in the morning. I sacrifice the superficial likes and retweets for a better quality of life at home.

In turn, I also sacrifice what could be considered invaluable opportunities to network and build relationships as social media floods with takes, breakdowns and reports.

I’ve always worked this way.

And I don’t intend on changing.

However, over the last two years…

I’ve noticed a shift…Both online and, more importantly, myself.

The problem with not being present is that friendships form around you. You’re on the outside looking in. And when you’re so far removed from the day-to-day, others start getting opportunities to progress. And so they should. We’re all putting in the work.

I’ve always been self-confident. A lifetime of martial arts instilled that in me. My self-belief borders on insanity. Of course, that level of self-belief can also be construed as egotism.

It’s a fine line to walk.

However, with each passing day, those closed circles that form from seeing or talking to each other every day become tighter. And with that, you feel more isolated.

The distance feels that little bit more real.

And then, the bitterness and envy start to creep in.

You don’t want it to.

But it does.

Like the cold draft at the start of winter. It seeps through the cracks. It slowly attacks your extremities until all of a sudden, it’s taken hold of your joints, and suddenly, you’re searching for some relief.

Yet, with a 3,182-mile gap between my front door and the entrance to the TD Garden, that relief doesn’t come.

So, you fester.

You don’t even notice you’re doing it, but you lash out. Childishly.

Why? Because when you want to succeed at something, and you throw everything into it, there’s an inevitability that it becomes part of your identity. It’s not what you do, it’s who you are.

And when you allow things to feel personal, you have emotional responses.

Finding a balance is key.

I used to have that balance.

I cheered for everyone’s wins. I pushed hard every day.

But then, after my nan passed away, I threw everything other than family to one side.

No more martial arts.

No meals or drinks with friends.

Just the endless grind.

Of course, the weight piled on. My health tanked. And that borderline insane confidence faded, replaced by anxiety, depression and fueled by anger. Trying to make a simple decision these days is a 365-day ordeal.

I destroyed relationships with people I had come up with in the bloggersphere. I called out other creators for simply trying new things. I stopped, started, chopped and changed a podcasting approach that had brought success.

And, most notably…

I went from the mindset of “collaboration beats competition” to “competition = threat.”

In 18 months, I’ve pulled the thread of everything I was working toward day after day, leaving tangled knots of yarn everywhere.

But I’m grateful for the learning experience.

How could I learn what not to do without making those mistakes?

I needed to get a clear perspective on what it is I’m trying to achieve.

When I started writing about the Celtics, I was in my early 30s. Stuck in a dead-end job. Studying a Bachelor’s Degree, part-time, in Computer Science.

In my head, the pathway was simple.

Write about the Celtics. Podcast about the Celtics. Learn everything I can, and network like crazy. Then, magically, a job opportunity would arise that would take me and my family across the pond.

It didn’t matter that others from the UK had tried, got further than I could ever imagine, but still had not taken that elusive last step.

It didn’t matter that a literal ocean stood in my way.

Borderline insane self-confidence.

I’ve got this.

I’m older now.

There’s value in experience.

I’ve gone from wanting to be a beat writer out in the US to wanting to run a successful newsletter and podcast.

I don’t need to have boots on the ground to succeed.

Maybe I’m still being crazy.

Maybe that task is still too big.

I mean, the newsletter has been stuck at the same subscriber number for 9 months, and my YouTube channel isn’t faring much better.

But what’s the point in quitting?

I love what I do.

I love basketball.

And most importantly, I love the Boston Celtics.

I’m in my eighth year covering this team from afar, and my fourth year doing so as a full-time freelancer.

You don’t just walk away. That’s the only time when the dream truly dies.

So, I’m trying to flip my perspective.

My inability to be “present” during games, both in person or online, isn’t the hindrance I once thought it was.

No.

It’s actually my biggest strength.

I get to watch the games without feeling the need to check my social media feeds.

I’m not subconsciously borrowing someone’s take because it was the first thing I saw at 3 a.m.

I get to digest the game without noise, without groupthink, without feeling the pressure to fire off a tweet or reply.

I wake up. I consume the game on my terms.

Then I consume it again.

I enjoy the moment.

And then, I get to work.

Sure, I’m not going to crack those closed circles. Not in the Celtics mediasphere. And certainly not on the broader league.

And yes, I’ve burned more than my fair share of bridges. Some of which will likely never be rebuilt.

But I’ve gained clarity.

And, while I’m incredibly fortunate to have the freelance work I do, and I love doing it, I know I finally have a clear picture of what I’m pushing for again — the newsletter and YouTube becoming my full-time gig…

Eventually…

Ideally, before I’m 45. Seven years is a long time, long enough to take a really good run at it.

In truth, I think that I’ve been wandering around aimlessly for a while.

It happens.

I mean, I’ve spent far too much time asking myself whether I should be posting on Twitter or pushing forward with Instagram — why does that even matter? Anxiety can lead you down strange paths.

The feeling of isolation isn’t going to vanish overnight. It doesn’t have to be a bad thing, either. I mean, the whole point of pushing for an independent route is to go it alone, right?

But, there has to be a balance. And that starts with getting my body right. In turn, the mind will follow. I’m already taking steps to do that, but it’s a process i’ve never navigated before, and that’s scary, to be honest.

I write all this

Because, for years, I’ve done everything I can to distance myself from being the English guy who covers the Celtics.

I’ve stressed over my accent on podcasts.

I’ve stressed over being the outsider who just “doesn’t get it” because i’m not from Boston.

And, I’ve stressed because I never did finish that Computer Science degree (thank god, because I would have been pissed now that AI is here). Nope. I quit after my second year, went back to square one, and graduated with a BA in Creative Writing and Journalism in 2023.

I went all-in.

In more ways than one.

It’s not easy covering a team from so far away. And I know I’m not the only one doing it.

I can’t speak for the others in similar positions, but I can share the pitfalls I’ve found along the way.

And look, I get it. I’m not trying to solve world hunger. I’m not adding incredible value to the world. I’m trying to talk about sports for a living.

Cry me a river, right?

We all have our own journeys.

I just wanted to share the first chapter of mine with you, and hopefully bring you along for the ride as we start putting pen to paper on chapter two.

Go C’s.