I wanted to take a moment to say that I will not be returning to host any Rocket League things this Fall, and to give a short message to the game’s community.

I write this blog as a means of honest, personal expression as it’s something I’ve historically struggled with a great deal. If something momentous happens in my life or I come to some personal realization I try to document my findings and how I feel about them here.

My time having the pleasure and honor of being host for CRL and Rival Series more than fits that description.

When I was first approached with the opportunity and idea of hosting CRL, I was nervous. I had never filled solely the host role before, and while I’ve played Rocket League I didn’t play Rocket League. I expect a certain level of performance and effort from myself in anything I do in esports, and the Rocket League community certainly deserves a certain level of performance so I spent a lot of time trying to figure out how I could best meet those expectations before agreeing to sign on.

I chose to turn a perceived weakness into a strength, and was thus given an opportunity to learn a lot about esports, humanity, and myself.

My level of play of Rocket League is atrocious by most standards, and I wasn’t confident I would be able to change that by the time the red lights on the camera flashed brightly and we were on. So instead I decided to spend the weeks leading up to CRL poring over every bit of competitive Rocket League I could find both past and present. While I was not able to play the game at a high level, I made a point to learn its ins and outs from an analytical perspective to the best of my ability.

What I found was awe inspiring.

Leading up to, and along the way during, CRL and RLRS I came to truly appreciate the amount of skill and effort that went into playing Rocket League at the competitive level. Having ascertained what was technically and mechanically required to achieve that made my excitement, enthusiasm, and adoration of plays that made such a thing seem easy organic and authentic. Having known how bad I was made seeing how good the players I’d watch during broadcasts a straightforward and, frankly, humbling process. When you’d see me geeking out over plays it was because I knew the precision that went into them and how I wouldn’t be able to emulate that in a million years.

The thing that became clear to me at the outset of my foray into competitive Rocket League was the sheer amount and quality of passion the community had for this game and its scene. This game was an integral part of people’s lives in a way that is seldom scene in any group, gaming or otherwise. It’s something truly special that makes the Rocket League community stand out, and seeing that firsthand made me all the more committed to giving everything I had in pursuit of being the best host I could be.

I was given the chance to befriend and work with some amazing people. Everyone I was on the desk with and everyone behind the camera were more than accepting and willing to help me learn the proverbial ropes. I felt like I was amongs friends and a part of the team, which is something that is incredibly difficult for someone with my social quirks to accomplish. But they all made it seem easy. That in itself was a heartwarming aspect to my time hosting.

Meeting players like the group at University of Redlands, joking around with sensational “e-gaming athletes” (inside joke) like ExplosiveGyro, having Apex post memes that make me laugh to this day, and seeing the responses to gifs posted on the Rocket League Esports’ Twitter account all made me feel like I was a part of something special. And there is no way to truly express the magnitude of such a thing, how much it means to me, and how thankful I am for that honor.

Rocket League will always be special to me because its competitive scene is one I approached by getting to know the people and the culture first before the game itself. It’s the first time a community’s raw sincerity and passion drew me in and inspired me to also come to love the game instead of my first loving a game, joining its community, and then seeing if I would enjoy getting involved in its competitive scene.

As an outsider that was subsequently brought in and felt like one of the tribe, I can say that the Rocket League community is one of a kind and I absolutely loved every moment hosting CRL and RLRS. I would jump at the opportunity to do so again, but I am humbled and honored for the time I was able to have on the desk.

I gave my heart and soul to being the best host I could be, because the Rocket League community deserved nothing less. What I got back in return is something I wouldn’t trade for the world.

Thank you.

“True confidence is not needing anyone else’s approval because you already have your own.” -Albert Hailey III

This is quote has served me well over the past few years. It’s a feeling and notion that came as the result of a lot of thinking on my past experiences. Confidence is something I’ve struggled with for a large part of my life. A visceral fear of failure, rejection, and mockery lead to me to approach life with a guard raised too high. It was safer to not try for things, to not put myself out there. The reward paled in comparison to the risk.

Or so I thought.

I came to realize that if I wanted to try for something but opted not to on account of my being worried about not succeeding then I never truly learn if I was able to accomplish that thing. Without that knowledge, I’m largely left to wonder what I’m truly capable of. Of what’s possible. How could I ever feel confident under those circumstances? With so much inconclusiveness floating around it felt borderline impossible to really feel good about myself.

And so I began on an emotional and spirit journey. I aimed to better connect with myself. Better see the value within, and better acknowledge who I was and who I wanted to be. I realized I spent a lot of my life not really thinking much of myself, let alone loving myself. Looking back, there’s a bit of irony in that I feared what others might think of me when nothing they could say could hold a candle to the constant barrage my inner monologue bombarded me with.

As I ventured down this path, I was able to gain a better appreciation for myself. In turn, I started to feel more confident. That slow progression is what lead to the quote at the start of this post. I had placed so much of my potential worth on the perception of external factors that I robbed myself of a lot of joy and confidence. I sapped my own potential before I took the first step toward anything.

Previously I wrote about a concept of there being a ratio to wisdom. The more I learn about myself and the human condition the less I feel I actually know. Learning about the extent of the proverbial solar system just makes me realize there’s an entire galaxy out there. The more known knowns I’ve gathered I’ve also come to understand that there are exponentially more known unknowns, and that doesn’t even count the unknown unknowns. A strange paradox, but anyway.

The above quote, which has been so integral and important to my personal development, now feels wholly obsolete. The ratio dynamic again has presented itself, as I’ve started to learn more about myself and the concept of confidence.

I render this judgment on my once coveted quote because it is inherently flawed. Not needing anyone else’s approval is great, but what if you lost the approval of yourself you once had? That’s a pretty damn big Jenga piece to yank out of the stack.

There have been a few instances of late where I would go into something with my hard-earned sense of self approval and, by extension, confidence. Should things go as I hoped, great. It all works out. However, anything short of success would trigger a host of feelings and thoughts of doubt, listlessness, sadness, and everything else. It then takes time to get back on my feet and try again.

In a lot of ways, that return to a fighting stance was even more difficult than it was in life before my thoughts on true confidence. A building built too rigid collapses mighty fast if it’s pushed past a certain point. My confidence was no different.

But life is an iterative progression. We are forever works in progress, and I made a pretty big realization last night. I have a new definition of true confidence.

True confidence is believing in one’s self in spite of successes or setbacks.

When I think about my previous definition, its intent was sound but its execution was ultimately doomed. Its scope was simply too narrow. To merely place its entire definition on the concept of people is short-sighted and, when I think about it, somewhat spiteful. It, at least for me, carried a measure of “I’ll show them” to my approach towards confidence. Its subtext largely aimed to diminish the value of hypothetical negative opinions from people who I originally feared in a bid to empower myself. Living in opposition to something still deeply roots it in your life.

There is another aspect of confidence that has always looked me right in the face that my original quote refused to acknowledge. Success or failure, for my entire life, has been used as conclusive proof of my capability and self-worth. Success sometimes would lead to a temporary sense of elation, but most of the time it felt like a maintenance of the status quo; a still running fear from failure. Failure was the culmination of fears and doubt come to pass.

I threw six touchdowns but one interception. I failed. I haven’t gotten as far as I’ve hoped to with streaming. I failed. I put everything I had into a relationship and it didn’t work out. I failed. I didn’t get every opportunity in esports I wanted. I failed. I’m not a multi-millionaire. I failed. I haven’t made the time to jump far into web development. I failed.

Things like this weigh on my very soul, and it can be so very hard to keep moving forward sometimes. Every setback is just more debris to clear from the path. It’s more ammunition for my negative self-talk.

But, conceptually, what if I took value away from success or failure. What if, instead, I more focus on the idea that in spite of my doubts and fears I acted. I went for something. I strived for something. I sought to accomplish something. At all. I opted not to be a bystander in my own life. I tried to make something happen. Is that not worth some measure of confidence?

The courage to act, in and of itself, is not easy. And while each time I’ve acted has not left me batting 1.000 I am much further along in life and towards my goals than if I never tried at all. That’s worth something. At the very least it should be.

If I put myself out there for something I’d like to get to a place where that’s the metric on which my sense of self-worth and confidence hinges. Because success and failure are, much like the hypothetical opinions I dared to rebel against with my previous quote, external factors. And conceptually I don’t want external factors to affect me past a certain point.

In my recent aims to learn from both my successes and setbacks I see the added benefit in how that pursuit can and should make me feel. If I try for something, whether it works out or not, I endeavor to feel proud of the effort I’ve put in, to assess the details on the outcome, and to learn from those observations. All the while I want to remain confident that I am capable of accomplishing my goals with enough time, practice, and persistence.

In this, only giving up on something I truly want should result in a loss of confidence.

Bear in mind this is merely a proof of concept. While I would love to magically evolve to such a point where this is my approach to confidence, I am not there. Yet. Having a compass of this magnitude and caliber helps a lot, though.

I may not get everything right every time, but I know my intentions in life are good, and that I’m capable of great things. I just have to keep trying.