How I Failed as a Boxer but Won at Life
What I first considered a failure became an asset
Everyone will fail at something at some point in their lives, but failure need not be a death sentence.
I was probably overly ambitious as a teen. I wanted fame, stardom, and, of course, money. And I believed I had the stamina and mental strength to succeed as an athlete.
In 1992, I signed up for a boxing development program meant to groom talent for the national boxing team. The national boxing board had planned to build a solid Olympic boxing team in four years — in time for the 1996 games in Atlanta. Clearly, they shared my ambition.
The dream appeared to be quite achievable. Famous coaches surrounded me, and I frequently shared the boxing gym with successful amateur and pro boxers. Succeeding at the sport could have meant a lot for me — opportunities, titles, career, and all the glitz that goes with them.
I threw myself into boxing. I skipped classes at school and saved up money every way I could for bus tickets to the training venue.
While being a teen boxing sensation would have been great, failure helped me salvage the rest of everyday teen life.
At this point, parents were still wary of supporting their children to pursue sports as a career. I walked a tightrope in an era with overly skewed respect for formal professions like medicine, law, accounting, and engineering. I knew I was punching above my weight by aiming for this novel career path, so I kept my ambitions secret. I hoped to make sports news headlines someday — to achieve acclaim and even fame before anyone in my family knew what I was up to.
By now, you might be wondering if my name would pop up in a Google search for Olympic medalists.
If so, I’m sorry to disappoint you. There were no headlines with my name; it was never meant to be.
The boxing chief who masterminded the boxing development program died prematurely — and with him, his vision. The program closed due to financial and administrative constraints. My Olympic dreams and boxing career were cut short. I didn’t have the money to single-handedly push a boxing career off the ground.
So I hung my gloves at the national boxing gym and walked away. It was a crushing defeat. Giving up on a dream is painful; it’s also a lonely and empty place to be.
How did I get out of that place?
Responsibility
Embedded in each failure is the seed of future success. I realized a free program managed by someone else could help some succeed. However, I wasn’t that lucky; it didn’t work for me. Then, it dawned on me that I was ultimately responsible for my success. Failure taught me how to take responsibility and come up with a program to advance my life.
Reset
Some folks prefer to window-dress their failures, but this wouldn’t help me. I was a high school student when the boxing fiasco happened. I made peace with who I truly was — a high school student. Taking this step was invaluable in realistically mapping the way forward. At that point, living in denial and carrying on like a potential Olympian would have been counterproductive.
Redirect and rediscover
Failure creates opportunities to develop another way. Life presents loss as detours on the way to success. Thomas Edison saw his failures from a different perspective, which led him to the light. In other words, failure is a signpost that can lead to other interests. By failing to make progress as a boxer, I had no choice but to embrace change.
While chasing my Olympic dreams, I lost sight of my immediate goal of completing high school and going to college someday. When I quit the gym, I became more engaged at school, played soccer again, and had a memorable final year at high school. While being a teen boxing sensation would have been great, failure helped me salvage the rest of everyday teen life.
Refire
When I quit the gym, I knew I wouldn’t be on a flight to Atlanta in 1996. But it made me more determined to succeed in other areas. I went back to my studies with a renewed vigor and took on the certification exams with greater purpose and focus. I failed to make the grade as a boxer, but I would not be completely drained of every ambition; I managed to transfer my passion.
Resilience
Failure pulled the rug from under my feet, but it also allowed me to gather the ruins and build a new structure for my life. Nothing tests a man’s courage, integrity, and faith like a failure. It built my psychological muscles and affected how I approached the next vision. My tenacity proved valuable in subsequent years — I’ve become a chartered accountant in multiple jurisdictions.
Restore
In my relentless pursuit of boxing glory, I ignored important relationships. When failure hit, I had an opportunity to revisit and refresh critical personal connections. I wrote letters to family members and old friends and spent time with those nearby. Some of those connections formed the building blocks for the next phase of my life.
I cannot say if my life would have been better as a boxer or not. Perhaps I would have gone on to win a world title. Maybe I would have ended up undecorated after strings of defeats.
Would I have found success in the professional ranks, like ’96 Atlanta medalists Wladimir Klitschko and Floyd Mayweather? Or would I have joined the long list of Olympians who never made any headlines after their Olympic triumphs?
I simply don’t know.
I still take chances with failure. I even dare to try and to dream. I do this knowing that the only way to succeed or fail is to try to do something. I can’t afford to be neutral to both success and failure.
I’m better off trying and failing than living in inactivity and dormancy — completely devoid of joy or pain, victory or defeat.
