So, Melvyn Jaminet. You see guys like him on TV, slotting kicks from all over, looking cool as a cucumber, and you think, “Wow, piece of cake for him.” But I got a bit fixated on it, not just the kicking, but the whole process, the focus. It became a sort of, well, a personal project for me for a while.
My Little Experiment
I started watching his clips, not just the successful kicks, but the whole build-up. His routine, how he’d set the ball, the steps back, that little breath. I wasn’t trying to become a rugby kicker, obviously. I was trying to figure out what was going on in his head, or at least, what I imagined was going on. My “practice” was to try and see if I could bottle even a tiny bit of that composure for my own stuff. Sounds a bit daft, I know.
I’d sit there and really try to break it down. What does that level of concentration look like from the outside? How do you block out a stadium full of screaming fans, or the weight of a game resting on your shoulders? I even tried to mimic that sort of focused breathing a few times when I was stressed. My wife caught me once, just standing in the kitchen, breathing deeply and staring at a spot on the wall. She thought I’d finally lost it.
Why The Heck Was I Doing This?
Now, you’re probably thinking, “Okay, interesting hobby, mate, but why?” Well, it wasn’t just for kicks, pardon the pun. The truth is, I was in a bit of a pickle myself, a real pressure cooker situation, and I was grasping at straws.
I’d volunteered to manage this community fundraising event. Seemed like a good idea at the time, you know, give something back. But it spiraled. Fast. We had sponsors threatening to pull out, volunteers bickering over the color of the napkins, and the main attraction, a local band, their lead singer got laryngitis a week before. The whole thing was a shambles, and everyone was looking at me to fix it. My stomach was in knots for weeks. Sleep? Forget about it.
I remember one night, totally overwhelmed, just flipping through sports channels, and there was Jaminet, lining up a crucial kick. And it just clicked. Not that I could magically solve all my problems, but watching him go through his process, so deliberate, so focused amidst all that chaos – it was almost hypnotic. It was like he had this bubble around him.
So, that’s when my Jaminet “study” really kicked into high gear. I started thinking, okay, what’s my “kicking routine” for this event mess? First step: identify the absolute biggest fire. Second step: what’s the one thing I can do right now about it? Third step: breathe, and just do that one thing. Forget the other fifty fires for a minute.
It wasn’t a magic bullet. The event was still a frantic scramble. We found a replacement singer who was… okay. Some sponsors still grumbled. But breaking it down, trying to find that focus, that Jaminet-like (in my head, anyway) methodical approach to each problem as it came, it helped. It helped me not to completely freak out. We got through it. It wasn’t pretty, but we raised some money, and I didn’t have a complete meltdown, which, believe me, was a distinct possibility.
So yeah, Melvyn Jaminet. For me, it became less about watching a rugby player and more about a weird, roundabout way to learn a bit about handling pressure. Still haven’t perfected it, mind you. Not by a long shot. But it gave me something to aim for when things got really tough.
