My heart and mind are racing as I approach the podium, knowing I have to make a speech.
The applause continues, and my brain tells me to keep the speech short. But then I lock eyes with her, and I know: this is the moment I’ve been waiting for. This is the time to say something real.
“This is mad,” I say, staring down at the trophy in disbelief. I look out across the room at my teammates, the staff, the coaches, even the physios who put us back together every week. I think about the fans, who’ve somehow become part of my heartbeat. I think about everyone who isn’t here.
“I know I’m not one for words, or speeches, or talking at all really, but I want to say a few things,” I start, voice rough but steady. “Winning this is truly overwhelming, and trust me, I don’t take it lightly. There’s so much talent in this room and on this squad. I know how many of you put your heart into this club every single day.”
I glance at Sebastian, who’s holding his Goal of the Year trophy like it’s a newborn baby. “Seb, mate, I was positive this was yours. Every goal you score is better than the last, but that goal was…” I shake my head. “Ridiculous.”
“Fantastique,” he corrects me, grinning as he kisses the trophy.
My voice falters just a little. “I’ve always struggled with letting people in. I’ve always believed I have to handle everything on my own. But being part of this team, this… family… it’s taught me that I don’t have to. There’s more strength in letting people care about you than shouldering it all yourself.”
“Thank you to Gaffer and Stan for trusting me with the armband. I wear it every match with pride. Thank you for pushing me to grow into more than just a player, but a leader, and someone I’m proud to be. I want to thank every one of the lads. To wear the red and blue of Rockford FC and fight for promotion with you—it means more than I can say. You don’t just make my job as captain easy—you make it an honor.”
I take a deep breath as my throat tightens.
“She’s not here… but I also want to thank my mum,” I say, eyes stinging. “I wouldn’t be here without the sacrifices she made, the example she set. She never just supported the dream of me playing. She made sure I understood what it meant.” I glance down at the podium for a second, collecting myself. “She used to tell me that being a footballer isn’t just about what you do on a Saturday afternoon. It’s about how you carry yourself the rest of the week. How you show up for a community that shows up for you. She taught me that you don’t just play for yourself. You play for the lads next to you, for the staff, and for the people in the stands who save up all week just to be there. And you try—every day—to be worthy of that.”
I let that sit for a moment, my grip tightening slightly on the edge of the podium.
“Everything I am, as a footballer and as a person, I owe to her.”
I pause, staring down at the podium before exhaling. “And my brother, Henry.”
The room stills in a way I can feel more than hear.
I swallow, nodding once like I’m steadying myself.
“We lost him years ago,” I continue, voice quieter now, “but not a day goes by when I don’t think of him.” I let out a small breath that almost becomes a laugh. “I used to think that if I didn’t talk about him, if I kept him tucked away somewhere private, then it would hurt less. Like silence would somehow make it easier to carry.”
I glance up briefly, scanning the room, then back down.
“But the truth is… it didn’t protect me. It just made it feel like I was carrying him alone.”
My throat tightens, but I push through it anyway.
“He was the first person who ever told me I was good enough to play at this level. Before I’d done anything to prove it. Before I even believed it myself.” A small smile pulls at my mouth, softer now. “He used to come to every match when he could. Didn’t matter if it was pouring rainor freezing cold, he’d be there shouting like I was already something important.”
A quiet breath.
“And I used to think that keeping his memory locked away meant I was holding onto him,” I say, shaking my head slightly. “But I’ve realised it’s the opposite. Talking about him, remembering him, letting people know who he was… that’s what keeps him here. That’s what makes him part of all of this.”
My grip loosens a little on the podium.
“He doesn’t stop existing just because he’s not here anymore. He exists in every decision I make on that pitch. In every time I push a little harder than I think I can. In every moment I think about what he’d say if he could see me now.”
I pause, the emotion cresting but not breaking me.
“And honestly,” I add, letting out a short, slightly nervous chuckle, “he would have absolutely voted for Sebastian for this award. No question.”
The room laughs gently, and I smile properly this time, letting it land.
“That was always Henry,” I say, softer again. “Loud, loyal, completely convinced he was right about everything—even when he wasn’t.”
I look down once more, then back up, steadier now.
“I miss him. I always will,” I say, fighting back tears. “But I know that as long as I keep talking about him… he doesn’t really leave. He just stays here with me.”
