Do Cool Sh*t (7 page)

The opportunity came when I spotted the head coach. I walked over to him, knowing that he’s Italian, and said with a smile, “
Io mi chiamo
Miki. Come ti chiami? Mi piacciono i ragazzi italiani.”
This translates to “My name is Miki. What’s your name? I like Italian men.” I travel a lot and basically learned how to say, “My name is Miki. What’s your name?” and then some sort of pickup line in ten different languages throughout the years. That last line would always make a person laugh, which is such a great icebreaker. People often immediately open up if you can make them laugh.

Thankfully, the coach laughed, which gave me the opening to say something more. I quickly and passionately told him my story. I asked that he consider me as a strong right-midfield candidate. I told him I had the stamina to handle the entire outside corridor from one end of the field to the other, to both attack and defend, but that I was an even more deadly attacking midfielder. I had good speed and used my small size to my advantage by sneaking past the defense quickly. I wanted him to know that there were significant advantages to having a smaller player on the field. I mean, look at the Spanish national team play the German national team. The Germans are two heads taller, but the small Spaniards turn so much faster with the ball and can cut through opponents with much more ease.

I thanked him for the opportunity, and I ran off to join the others and made sure to do some dribbling moves with the ball while he was watching. I absolutely
had
to separate myself from the crowd and get noticed immediately. It didn’t have to be obnoxious; I just had to find the right opportunity when nobody was around so I could plant a seed.

When he blew his whistle, we all headed out onto the field.

He immediately called my name because he remembered me from earlier and placed me on the first team. I was
so
glad I made the move to talk to him (and tell him that I liked Italian men!).

The scrimmages went really well. I played my heart out, assisted a few goals, and scored one of my own. At the end of the tryout, the coach called my name back for the next tryout. I had made round two!

I made it through second round and then the third round and amazingly the fourth! And every round until the end of the two months. The day finally came when I got the call from the head coach himself. With a thick Italian accent, he said, “Miki, you made it. Congratulations.”

I couldn’t believe it. I had made it! Step 1: accomplished. It felt amazing. I called Ahmed and told him first. He was the one who had sat patiently and waited for three hours for the tryouts to be completed and he was the one who drove me back to the bank every night after the tryouts were over at nine. He was overjoyed. Needless to say, I celebrated with the security guards. I had done all this and kept my promise to Bill. I had worked after every tryout until two or three in the morning and had gotten everything I needed to get done at the bank.

But now what? I had made the team. Do I quit my banking job now?

I decided to play my first game with the Magic before doing anything drastic just to see how it would go down. Maybe I would ride the bench the whole game and it would suck.

But when the day came to announce the starting lineup, they called my name. It was incredible. I had. Made. The. Starting. Lineup. Tears welled up in my eyes, but I wiped them away and quickly jumped to my feet to put on my socks and cleats. There’s no crying in soccer!

The team suited up and headed onto the field, my heart pounding so quickly as adrenaline rushed through my veins. The referee whistled and the game began. We had won the kickoff, so our striker handed the ball to the center mid, who handed it to me. I dribbled down the right, juked the right defender, and crossed the ball to our striker. Two things happened almost immediately. Our striker connected with the ball and we scored, and the defender came straight at me and slid into my leg as my foot was planted firmly in the grass.

My sheer joy at assisting the goal was shattered immediately. You could hear the snap from across the field. It was the tell-tale sound of a torn ACL, the anterior cruciate ligament in the knee that holds everything together. I crumpled to the ground in agony, crying and clutching my left leg.

After such a long fight to get to this point and after all that I had gone through, to then have my season end within the first five minutes of my first game of my professional career was nothing short of
devastating
. I knew that this would be a long road to recovery. I had never worked so hard in my entire life to reach a goal, and to see it taken away so quickly? Unbelievable.

I was carried off the field with the crowd clapping in support and that was it. At that moment, I was so glad I hadn’t quit my job at the bank because I needed the very best health insurance to cover my knee surgery and get sports therapists to nurse me back to health.

I went back to my bank the next Monday, on crutches, and tearfully told Bill what happened. He felt my pain and gave me two weeks’ leave of absence after my surgery so I could recover and regain strength.

The surgery was shockingly painful. The physical therapy was too. It was a full eight months before I was able to play soccer again. But I made it through, went to sports therapy diligently three times per week, and came back stronger than ever. I was still working at the bank while recovering, and I was so ready to try out again.

And I did. I did it all over again. And I made the starting lineup of the New York Magic all over again. I played a strong season but, unbelievably, in a semifinal game, I was tackled again when my
other
foot was planted and I tore my
other
ACL, in my right knee. Tearing both of the major ligaments in my knees, two seasons in a row? Are you bloody
kidding
me? I could feel the pain from the surgery and weeks of waking up in the middle of the night in absolute agony. I could hear the physical therapist cranking at my knee to bend because it wouldn’t, with tears of pain streaming down my face and my jaw clenched as tight as it could. I could feel my armpits hurting from the constant crutching around everywhere.

I knew that this was it for me and my dream to play soccer professionally. My body was saying
no
. I could have come back again, but I knew that if another major knee injury happened, I’d be getting my knees replaced before age forty.

As I was carried off the field for the second time within the year, I paused to reflect on what had become a soccer career cut short. My mind went back to when I was three and kicked a ball for the first time while wearing a dress, and then fast-forwarded all the way up to this final moment, twenty-one years later. I could remember all of the home and away games with the various teams I played on, the countless weekends I sacrificed for this sport, the celebratory team dinners, the pep talks, the toughest losses, and the most unexpected victories. I’d formed incredibly close bonds with not only the team players but also all of the families who traveled together and got to know one another. I was always so aware of the sacrifices our parents made for us to pursue this sport to such a level. Soccer truly was one of the biggest parts of my life thus far, and some of the best and toughest lessons I ever learned were thanks to this dear sport. Ultimately, while I was saying good-bye to soccer, I felt satisfied because I knew I had given it my all—my absolute all. Sometimes, life throws us curve balls when we least expect it, just to see how we handle it and also to point us in the direction that we’re meant to go in.

I took a deep breath, looked back at the field with love in my heart, and closed my eyes for a moment. I knew that at the close of this chapter, new and great adventures would be right around the corner.

Do Cool Shit Takeaway

• Even if you think something seems impossible at first, figure out how to make it work. You have to show tenacity and go for it!
  
• Just ask for what you want. You may be surprised at how things always seem to work out.
  
• Establish why your goal is meaningful or important to you. If you need something from a boss or friend, show them your passion and connect with them about their own passions. They will more than likely empathize with your situation and do what they can to help you out.
  
• Make sure you follow through on your promises.
  
• Separate yourself from your competition. Transform seemingly negative situations into positive ones.
  
• Life throws unexpected curve balls that don’t always go your way and may be out of your control. Move on quickly, dwelling on it serves no benefit to you or anyone around you. Focus on new dreams.
  
• Make ’em laugh!
  

Whenever you feel like something is impossible and that there is no
way
you can do something like leave your grueling day job to follow your passion project, ask yourself this first:

What would MacGyver do?

You know how MacGyver used to get himself into sticky situations, then get out of them by constructing a bomb made out of chewing gum and packing tape? Use MacGyver as your inspiration for real-life problems. Step outside your situation and imagine what (seemingly crazy) ways you can come up with to solve your problem. Maybe the first couple of ideas you have won’t work, but my bet is you’ll stumble across a workable solution using this method.

The overall idea here is for you to get your hands dirty in your passion project to see if it’s something you’re willing to go all in on (quit your day job!) or if it’s not something that is the right fit after all. It’s so good to mitigate some of the risk by keeping your day job at first and seeing if this new opportunity makes sense for you. Many times, when you dig into the nuts and bolts of any passion project, you will see that all businesses have paperwork, busy work, challenges, and frustrations.

No matter what, working on something you are passionate about always trumps any day job to solely make money. If you’re going to deal with any of those pesky issues I mentioned, you may as well do them for yourself, and not for someone else—
and
for something you are truly passionate about.

5

FINDING YOUR CALLING

How to Ask Yourself the Right Questions

I’ve come to believe that each of us has a personal calling that’s as unique as a fingerprint.

—O
PRAH
W
INFREY

A
frantic voice shouted at me as I put the phone to my ear.

“Miki! He wants Wall Street to be closed in two days! Completely closed! I need you to make it happen!”

Then the phone went dead.

He needed Wall Street closed in two days? Seriously? I had been on the job for a total of two months and had no idea if this was even in the realm of possibility. How on earth was I going to pull
this
off?

So . . . after my
soccer career came to a screeching halt and I left my investment banking job after I made the team the second time, I decided that rather than jumping right into the next thing like an excited puppy, I had to pause and contemplate my next move. I had spent two years working one hundred hours a week on Wall Street and was completely burned-out. This was the perfect time to employ what I call the
I-EX—internal examination.

I knew that if I just went for the next thing that came my way, I might be headed for another burnout in a year or two. Burnouts are cool (and impressive) once. (Don’t most superstars go through a sexy burnout phase?) Twice, not so much.

This I-EX would be my North Star, the little arrow on the compass that would point me in the right direction. And I desperately needed it.

It began with asking myself two key questions:

1. What am I
really
good at?

2. What am I passionate about?

QUESTION 1: WHAT AM I
REALLY
GOOD AT?

This question reminds me of a story that my dad told me when I was a young girl. When he was just a kid in India, he loved Bollywood movies and decided that he wanted to be a singer. So he went to a famous Indian music teacher to audition. My dad sang his innocent little heart out, and once he finished his song, the teacher paused and said to him: “How about tabla?” (Tabla is the hand drum.) My dad learned early on that he did not have the gift of song (truly, he was and still is tone-deaf—love you, Pops!) so he pursued what came more naturally to nerdy Indians like him and the other thing that he was passionate about: engineering.

The lesson I took from this story was to try to surround myself with people honest enough to prevent me from making a total fool out of myself.

I was no Adele, but I definitely had a few things to offer.