For years, I've struggled to get the hang of sports. My school days were marked by an impressive array of excuses for why I couldn't participate in physical education classes – my "bad foot" being a particular favourite. Even as I grew older and started exercising regularly, I never quite got the motivation to join up with friends' recreational teams.
That was until last year, when a friend invited me to her birthday "kickabout". I'd been hesitant at first, but ultimately decided to give it a go – mostly out of curiosity about what would happen if I actually turned up. What I found was that I genuinely enjoyed myself, cheering on my team as we battled it out on the pitch.
It's hard not to take notice when you're surrounded by people who are just as keen on having fun as you are. And yet, despite our relative lack of experience and skill, we all seemed to be having a blast. From that day forward, I was hooked – and over the past year, we've played an astonishing number of games, with our little group growing from five or six friends to a full-blown team of around 40 people.
Of course, I'm still not exactly what you'd call a sporting star. My hands tend to instinctively fend off the ball whenever it comes near, and I've yet to master even the most basic skills like dribbling or shooting. But despite my questionable abilities, I've found that I'm getting slightly better with each passing game – and I genuinely can't say that I'd hate playing sports anymore.
So what's behind this newfound enthusiasm for an activity I once thought I'd never enjoy? It turns out that amateurism has been unfairly maligned over the years. In fact, according to activist Karen Walrond, who wrote a new book called "In Defense of Dabbling", being a bit rough around the edges and not expecting too much from yourself can actually be a strength.
Walrond argues that intentional amateurism is about embracing activities we love for their own sake – rather than trying to become experts or achieving some sort of perfection. It's about finding joy in the process, rather than the end result – and letting go of our natural tendency towards self-optimisation.
According to Walrond, this approach can be especially beneficial for people who are often driven by ambition and a desire to achieve. By giving ourselves permission to be a bit rubbish at something, we can avoid the pressure to perform and simply enjoy the experience.
It's a philosophy that resonates deeply with me, particularly as I look back on my own past experiences with hobbies. As a teenager, I was always eager to try new things – but once I got older and started focusing more on my career, those interests took a backseat. It wasn't until recently that I rediscovered the joy of playing football, albeit in a somewhat unorthodox way.
Walrond's book is full of inspiring stories from people who have discovered their own passion projects through intentional amateurism. From taking up watercolour painting to customising T-shirts, there are countless ways to get involved and explore your interests without feeling like you need to be an expert.
One of the most compelling aspects of Walrond's philosophy is its focus on mindfulness and self-compassion. By embracing our natural tendency towards imperfection, we can let go of our inner critic and simply enjoy the process – rather than beating ourselves up over mistakes or perceived shortcomings.
Of course, there's also a very practical benefit to intentional amateurism: it encourages us to try new things, take risks, and push beyond our comfort zones. As Walrond points out, this can have a profound impact on our overall happiness and wellbeing – even if we never become experts in the activity itself.
As I look forward to my next game of football, I'm excited to see where this newfound enthusiasm takes me. Whether it's scoring a goal or simply having fun with friends, I know that I'll be exactly where I want to be – and that's all thanks to embracing my inner amateur.
That was until last year, when a friend invited me to her birthday "kickabout". I'd been hesitant at first, but ultimately decided to give it a go – mostly out of curiosity about what would happen if I actually turned up. What I found was that I genuinely enjoyed myself, cheering on my team as we battled it out on the pitch.
It's hard not to take notice when you're surrounded by people who are just as keen on having fun as you are. And yet, despite our relative lack of experience and skill, we all seemed to be having a blast. From that day forward, I was hooked – and over the past year, we've played an astonishing number of games, with our little group growing from five or six friends to a full-blown team of around 40 people.
Of course, I'm still not exactly what you'd call a sporting star. My hands tend to instinctively fend off the ball whenever it comes near, and I've yet to master even the most basic skills like dribbling or shooting. But despite my questionable abilities, I've found that I'm getting slightly better with each passing game – and I genuinely can't say that I'd hate playing sports anymore.
So what's behind this newfound enthusiasm for an activity I once thought I'd never enjoy? It turns out that amateurism has been unfairly maligned over the years. In fact, according to activist Karen Walrond, who wrote a new book called "In Defense of Dabbling", being a bit rough around the edges and not expecting too much from yourself can actually be a strength.
Walrond argues that intentional amateurism is about embracing activities we love for their own sake – rather than trying to become experts or achieving some sort of perfection. It's about finding joy in the process, rather than the end result – and letting go of our natural tendency towards self-optimisation.
According to Walrond, this approach can be especially beneficial for people who are often driven by ambition and a desire to achieve. By giving ourselves permission to be a bit rubbish at something, we can avoid the pressure to perform and simply enjoy the experience.
It's a philosophy that resonates deeply with me, particularly as I look back on my own past experiences with hobbies. As a teenager, I was always eager to try new things – but once I got older and started focusing more on my career, those interests took a backseat. It wasn't until recently that I rediscovered the joy of playing football, albeit in a somewhat unorthodox way.
Walrond's book is full of inspiring stories from people who have discovered their own passion projects through intentional amateurism. From taking up watercolour painting to customising T-shirts, there are countless ways to get involved and explore your interests without feeling like you need to be an expert.
One of the most compelling aspects of Walrond's philosophy is its focus on mindfulness and self-compassion. By embracing our natural tendency towards imperfection, we can let go of our inner critic and simply enjoy the process – rather than beating ourselves up over mistakes or perceived shortcomings.
Of course, there's also a very practical benefit to intentional amateurism: it encourages us to try new things, take risks, and push beyond our comfort zones. As Walrond points out, this can have a profound impact on our overall happiness and wellbeing – even if we never become experts in the activity itself.
As I look forward to my next game of football, I'm excited to see where this newfound enthusiasm takes me. Whether it's scoring a goal or simply having fun with friends, I know that I'll be exactly where I want to be – and that's all thanks to embracing my inner amateur.