Suitcase

I grew up playing rugby league.

And before you hold it against me...

I'm a lifelong Penrith Panthers supporter.

Some of my favourite childhood memories are sitting beside my mum at Panthers Stadium, cheering on the team we'd both loved for years. In fact, when the stadium was redeveloped, I even managed to buy our old seats.

But that's a story for another day.

This story begins long before that.

Back when I was known by a very different name.

Suitcase.

The Smallest Kid on the Field

When I first started playing rugby league, I was tiny.

Not just smaller than the other kids on my team.

Smaller than almost everyone we played against.

Our coach, Phil, decided that deserved a nickname.

He called me Suitcase.

Apparently, I was small enough to fit inside one.

Looking back, I probably was.

What I lacked in size, though, I tried to make up for with determination.

Or, depending on who you ask...

Stubbornness.

I was never particularly good at backing down from a bully.

Even when common sense suggested it might be a good idea.

The Fight

One Saturday we were playing a team from one of the tougher parts of Western Sydney.

We'd heard all week that it was going to be physical.

There would probably be a few cheap shots.

Some pushing.

A bit of niggle.

Sure enough, halfway through the second half, tempers boiled over.

A fight broke out.

And I'm almost certain it was number 12's fault.

At least that's the story I'm sticking with.

Without giving it a second thought, I charged straight into the middle of it.

There was only one small problem.

The bloke I picked was enormous.

Evidence

Our coach took his job very seriously.

Every Saturday he'd stand on the sideline filming the game with a camcorder the size of a small microwave.

This was the 1990s, so naturally the battery needed changing about five times every match.

Fortunately for everyone except me...

The camera was rolling.

Every Monday night at training we'd watch footage from the weekend.

Usually we'd review good plays.

Defensive structures.

Opportunities to improve.

This week...

The lesson was me.

The footage begins with me confidently launching myself at the biggest player on the other team.

For a brief moment, I genuinely believed I was about to save the day.

Then the camera zooms out.

And there I was.

Flat on my back.

Pinned underneath someone who looked like he'd already started shaving.

It turns out courage and success aren't always the same thing.

Bravery Isn't Enough

I've laughed about that footage many times over the years.

But somewhere along the way I realised it was teaching me something.

As leaders, we're often encouraged to be courageous.

To step up.

Take risks.

Back ourselves.

That's good advice.

But courage without capability can become recklessness.

The goal isn't simply to be brave.

It's to keep growing until your capability catches up with your courage.

The Other Gap

I've coached leaders who underestimated themselves despite being incredibly capable.

I've also coached people whose confidence arrived well before their competence.

Neither extreme serves us particularly well.

Real leadership is about continually closing the gap.

Learning.

Practising.

Seeking feedback.

Being humble enough to admit there's still more to learn.

When courage and capability begin walking together, that's where confidence becomes genuine.

Not because we've convinced ourselves we're ready.

But because we've done the work.

Looking Back

I still smile whenever I think about that old camcorder footage.

At the time, I was embarrassed.

Today, I'm grateful.

Because that little kid nicknamed Suitcase wasn't trying to impress anyone.

He simply believed standing up for his teammates mattered.

I hope I've never lost that.

These days, I'd probably choose a slightly different strategy.

Maybe talk first.

Maybe avoid tackling someone twice my size.

Growth has its benefits.

But I never want to lose the willingness to step forward when something needs to be done.

Leadership needs courage.

It also needs wisdom.

Knowing the difference is what experience teaches us.

More Than a Game

As I look back on those years, I realise the greatest memories were never the tries we scored or the games we won.

They were the people who shared the journey with us.

Some of my fondest memories are sitting beside Mum at Panthers Stadium, cheering on the team we'd both loved for as long as I can remember. Years later, when the stadium was rebuilt, I was fortunate enough to buy our old seats. They now sit at home as a reminder that some things are worth holding onto.

Those afternoons taught me far more than rugby league.

They taught me about loyalty.

About belonging.

About showing up, week after week, through the wins and the losses.

Looking back, I don't remember every score.

I remember who was sitting beside me.

That's what makes memories become legacy.

The Best Leaders Keep Growing

One of the greatest myths in leadership is that confidence comes first.

In my experience, confidence is usually the by-product of growth.

Every difficult conversation.

Every mistake.

Every piece of honest feedback.

Every lesson learned.

Little by little, the gap between courage and capability gets smaller.

Until one day you discover something.

You no longer need bravado.

Quiet confidence has taken its place.

The little boy nicknamed Suitcase didn't know much about leadership.

He just knew that some things were worth standing up for.

I'm still trying to live that lesson today.

Because leadership isn't about proving how strong you are.

It's about having the humility to keep growing, the courage to keep stepping forward, and the wisdom to know that you never stop learning.

And thankfully...

No one has called me Suitcase for quite some time.