When people ask, “How’s football going?” they’re usually expecting a simple answer, something like, “It’s good” or “It’s tough, but I’m pushing through.” But the truth is, football for me is so much more complicated than that. It’s not just a game or something I do for fun—it’s a commitment, one that often feels more like a full-time job than an extracurricular. Football at Rice demands year-round dedication. I’m in Houston all summer and during breaks, training and practicing, so that I’m ready for the next season. At this point, I’m pretty sure my dorm room and the practice field have become one and the same. It consumes so much of my time that balancing it with school, personal life, and even just grabbing some chipotle becomes a juggling act that would impress a circus performer.

And don’t even get me started on “the grind.” You know the one: the 6 a.m. wake-up calls for workouts when it’s still dark outside, and your body is pleading with you for just ten more minutes of sleep. But nope! You’re out there running sprints, pushing sleds, and lifting weights, trying to convince yourself that this will all pay off in the next game. Meanwhile, all you can think about is that glorious moment when you’ll finally get to play—the actual game, not the endless drills, not the practices where it’s 100 degrees and the turf feels like a frying pan. It’s the game I love, the moment when the whistle blows and you get to do what you’re trained for. Everything else? Well, let’s just say “enjoy” wouldn’t be the word I’d use.

There are things about football I genuinely hate. It’s not just the brutal workouts or the time commitment—though trust me, those are at the top of the list. It’s the fact that my entire summer is swallowed up by practice, leaving me with limited opportunities to explore internships or other interests. It feels like football is all I ever do. I barely have a life outside of it. My friends can casually say, “Oh, I’m heading to an internship in New York,” and I’m just over here like, “I’ll be, uh… practicing. Again.”

But there are things I love about football too. Playing the game? Absolutely. There’s nothing like the adrenaline rush of a real game. Practices, not so much—I could do without those. And my role on the team? Honestly, I love it. As a punter, I have an important job, but it’s not the most physically taxing, so I get to avoid some of the more punishing aspects of football. I mean, I’m not getting tackled on every play (shout out to the running back for taking one for the team). Plus, it’s kind of fun to have this sneaky influence on the game. People don’t think about punting much until they see a 50-yard punt sail through the air, and then suddenly I’m the hero of the moment. It’s a small role, but an important one, and I get to leave the field without needing a bag of ice.

Football has been a huge part of my life since childhood. Some of my fondest memories growing up involve tossing a football with my dad in the backyard. It helped us bond, and for a long time, I associated the game with that special connection. But now, as I’ve grown older and football has become more of a responsibility than a hobby, the joy it used to bring me has faded. Instead, it feels like a burden at times—an obligation rather than a passion. It’s hard to admit that because it feels like I’m supposed to love every minute of it. After all, it’s part of my identity, and it’s what people see when they first meet me.

Being known as the “football guy” is cool and all, but sometimes I feel like there’s more to me than just that. There are other interests I’d love to explore, but football takes up so much of my time that it’s hard to break out of that mold. Yet, I can’t deny that football has shaped me in ways beyond just the sport—it’s taught me discipline, resilience, and how to push through mental barriers. These lessons stick with me, even when I don’t feel like I’m loving the game.

So when people ask, “How’s football going?” My real answer is layered. It’s going well in the sense that I’m fulfilling my obligations, pushing myself physically and mentally, and building relationships with my teammates. But it’s also exhausting, both mentally and emotionally. Sometimes, I wish I could take a break from the grind and just enjoy the game like I did as a kid. But I also know these challenges are shaping me into someone stronger, more capable of handling whatever life throws at me in the future. Football isn’t just a game anymore—it’s a complex part of my identity that I’m still learning to navigate. And maybe, just maybe, I’ll learn to sneak in a life outside of it too.