When I first strolled into the athletic center up in Waterville, known affectionately as the Alfond Athletic Center, I was nervous. I felt as if I was beginning anew. And indeed I was starting all over again; as a slightly matured, older, smarter version of the same timid freshman athlete stepping into high school four years earlier.

Only this was not high school but a far grander and scarier place. This was Colby College, and I was about to embark on a journey to the heart of collegiate football All I had to hold onto was my own personal experiences and athletic ability. I was tense, but I knew I would get through it.

I stepped nervously onto the football field. It seemed so long, and the more I looked at it, the more it seemed to stretch into the distance. My first test in my first college practice was about to begin, and staring around at the other rattled freshmen lined up along the back of the end zone, I realized something.

If I try hard, literally as hard as I can, I know that someone will notice. It could be anyone. One of the coaches testing us, one of the established older players coming to watch us run, or even another freshman. All I need is someone to take notice.

So I did all I could to help myself. I ran as hard as I could until I felt I couldn’t run anymore. I didn’t complete all 16 110-yard sprints in less than 15 seconds that day, but I did try, and someone did notice.

I continued to push myself on the field, trying to out-practice myself everyday: on special teams, in positional meetings, in positional drills, in team drills. The harder I worked the more I was noticed, the more I succeeded.

Despite coming into a situation where there already was a “main-man” when it came to running the football, a tailback who had broken NESCAC (New England Small College Athletic Conference) records in carries and rushing yards the previous year, I was still finding the field. Although I wasn’t doing as much at tailback, I was still excited at the prospect of playing in this, my first year of college football.

When the season finally came around, I did see the field, and was successful. I enjoyed the team, my teammates, and most of all college. I had enough time to do my schoolwork, practice, play, and hit up the social scene. It was as if I was living in some college dream world.

In the off-season that followed I learned how hard college football players work: lifting four days a week on a rigorous workout program, conditioning every Thursday morning at 6:30, lifting tests every two weeks, watching practice and game tapes, taking a demanding class schedule, and all the while trying to be sociable too.

Then I got injured – tendonitis in my left knee, then my right. They were getting worse by the day. After a short period of time both my knees had a constant and dull ache in them and worse than that, not one coach seemed to care. I felt burnt out mentally and physically.

However, I was beginning to notice the other non-athlete side of me still enjoying himself. Making new friends, developing a closer bond to certain teammates, meeting those wonderful college girls I dreamt about in high school, and doing well in the classroom, which was, after all, why I was here.

Football was a bummer in the off-season, but I still managed to have an incredible time.

The summer rolled around and I came back to Scarbrough where I worked on my all-things-football summer routine. My knees didn’t get better and because of the pain I started slacking in lifting. In response to this I worked more on my conditioning.

When summer began to wind down, and the fall pigskin air began to whip, I felt ready to start season number two as an injured, but happily excited football player.

Coming back to pre-season as a non-freshman I learned that things were even harder around here than the year before.

We had a new head coach. I had a new positional coach who played cornerback with us the year before, and overall a lot of new changes.

The all-star running back was kicked off the football team for the semester due to behavioral issues and I was now splitting the starting role with a senior wide-receiver-turned-tailback.

My knees still hurt a lot, but in the pre-season hustle and bustle I didn’t notice too much. Then a few days in my shoulders began to hurt. It was discovered that I had shoulder tendonitis. Now I was a tailback entering his second year could not run as well or block as well. From here things only got much worse.

My injuries worsened, and with no recovery time, I began to struggle.

Things I could have done the year before I could no longer do. The mean and nasty busier-tailback mentality was fading, and so too was the coaches’ attention to me. By our second game I was practically invisible. A freshman was now starting in my stead, and football, where it had once been my trademark, was now an open and festering wound.

Practice dragged.

Games dragged.

I was crashing and all I could do was watch, waiting to sort out the wreckage. I neither knew or understood how this terrible situation had developed. It had come quietly and expertly until one day I was watching someone else do what I used to.

When our last game of the season ended, I knew that my football career had too. I still participated in all the off-season drills, lifting, etc, but never felt as if I belonged to the same team I did my freshman year.

By the month of January my inner football player was gone, whisked away by the same mysterious force that had brought it to me. The player who had won a state championship, who was twice all-state, who always busted his butt in practice, who did so well freshman year of college, had disappeared.

By the time I sent out the email, explaining my withdrawal from the team, Nial the football player had been long gone. He had already been replaced by the familiar and happy freshman Nial who was once again ready to start his college career. Sure it was a year and a half late, but as they say “it’s never too late to start over.”

So to those of you who want to consider or attempt a colligate level athletic career let me offer a few words of advice.

One, you should at least try. No matter how bad things got for me my second year playing, it will never cancel out all the good that came from giving it a shot. Plus it is an easy way to make long-lasting friendships and have fun.

Two, enjoy every minute you play and work hard. For this reason I have no regrets about playing or quitting, I just did what I had to do.

Three, if your grades start to dip, get out! One thing I realized before I even played in college was that my first and foremost priority is school.

Four, college is a different ballgame. There are jobs and lots of money on the line. So if you find yourself not having fun, don’t panic. Think, consider and weigh your options.

Five, playing or not playing, either way it affects your life, don’t let others tell you what you need to do.

My last word of advice is to savor your college experience because as I have learned and been told before, it doesn’t last forever.

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