I’m So Fucking Back
Ever since I was a kid, my life has revolved around football. Not just in the casual, “I watch the World Cup every four years” kind of way, more like “my year starts in August and ends in May” kind of way.
That’s how deeply football has shaped my worldview. June and July? Just emotional pre-season.
So in this piece, whenever I say something like “2018–19,” I’m referring to a chapter of my life that began in August 2018 and ended in May 2019. Capische? Cool. Let’s get into it.
Let’s rewind a bit to the start of 2018–19. That was when I finally became a football journalist. A literal childhood dream realized. I got paid (not much, but still) to write about the sport I loved the most. I felt lucky. Especially when the pandemic hit and I managed to keep my job while the world was, well, making dalgona coffee and going slightly insane.
Everything was chugging along, modest income, meaningful work, decent routine. But like many stories involving passion, mine started to hit turbulence around the 2022–23 chapter.
That season was rough. My responsibilities grew, my bank account didn’t. I got married in the middle of it and suddenly, it wasn’t just me I had to support. Adult life was here and it demanded better financial planning than “I’ll survive somehow.”
To make things heavier, I stopped attending live matches that season. There was a dark moment in Indonesian football, a tragedy, and I couldn’t bring myself to be around it. So I pulled away, not out of indifference, but heartbreak.
I needed a change. A new rhythm. A new income stream. Honestly, staying home every single fucking day for a year was turning me into an uninspired houseplant.
Fast forward to the start of 2023–24. I landed a new job. It felt really good. new routine, new coworkers, new environment. But I couldn’t bring myself to fully leave football journalism. That part of me just wouldn’t let go.
Get K.E Said’s stories in your inbox
Join Medium for free to get updates from this writer.
So I did what football clubs usually do when they’re not ready to sell a player permanently, I went on loan.
For the entire 2023–24 chapter, I juggled two roles: full-time employee in one field, and full-time content writer in football. Yes, full-time twice. I was cranking out 60-ish articles a week, all while managing another job. Needless to say, I stopped going to matches again, not out of protest, just sheer exhaustion.
The season ended with me being let go from the second job. No hard feelings. They decided not to renew my contract and it just ended. Then came the long job-hunting stretch. Interviews, rejections, ghostings. The usual cocktail of mid-career dread. That dragged on until March 2025.
Then, a plot twist.
Just before the “season” ended, I landed a part-time gig. Small hours, small team — but the energy? Electric. These people believed in me. They gave me the kind of support and creative space that I hadn’t felt in a long time. It reminded me that I wasn’t just a guy who wrote headlines, I was a journalist.
That little spark lit a bigger fire.
Come July 2025, my life’s version of summer break, I found myself back in a stadium to cover the AFF U-23 tournament. First time in years. It felt like coming home after being away for too long. Not awkward. Not uncomfortable. Just right.
I wasn’t just observing this time. I asked questions in press conferences. I stayed up late to finish reports. I moved with a sense of purpose I hadn’t felt in a while. It was exhausting. The matches were late, the nights even later, but I loved it. Every tired, joy-filled moment.
It reignited my passion. The same spark that pushed me to chase this path in the first place, it’s back. And maybe now I have the maturity and experience to protect it a little better this time.
So here we are.
The 2025–26 chapter is about to begin. And I’m starting it with full energy, full heart, and full clarity. After the burnout, the loan spell, the doubts I just want to say one thing:
I’m so fucking back.
