Over the weekend I was printing and cutting some game prototypes, and I put the latest season finale of Welcome to Wrexham on in the background. I didn’t expect the confluence of those two activities to bring me to tears.

In this episode, the Wrexham football team is preparing for a game at the end of the season that will decide whether they are promoted to the second-highest level of English football. The team’s co-owner, Rob McElhenney, gives a speech inspired by a text conversation he had with some unnamed, highly successful athletes.

Here’s most of McElhenney’s speech, almost verbatim (thanks to this transcript). Also, if you have Hulu, I highly recommend watching the speech, as it’s brilliantly edited in a way that splices footage of the final game with the players during their childhood days.

“I want you to picture a time in your life. Maybe you’re eight, maybe you’re nine, maybe you’re ten, maybe you’re six, maybe you’re 12, but you’re out there and you’re playing football. You’re just kicking the ball around. You’re playing with your friends, your dad, your mom, your sisters, your brothers, your buddies. You’re just playing football.

And it’s fun. And you fell in love with that feeling.

Of course you’re grateful for the support that you’ve had along the way, your family, your friends, and everyone, but you’ve already honored that. From this point, the only person you owe something to is that ten-year-old kid who fell in love with football, who could not wait to be in the position that you’re in right now!

The point is, there is a moment or a series of moments in which you were in love with this game, and that is all that matters. I want you to go out there and play like you’re ten years old and have the time of your lives because I promise you that is the only thing you will remember.”

I’m watching this speech unfold while cutting and sorting prototype cards, something I also did as a 10-year-old. I played and created games then purely for the fun of it. Now I’m very fortunate to run a tabletop publishing company as my job, but sometimes I need the reminder that I do this for the love of games.

I also played soccer as my primary sport from a young age up until college, and I still occasionally play pickup games. Even though I never played at a high level, there was definitely a tonal difference between playing for fun with my friends and starting for my high school team. To practice for hours every day can feel like work, even though it’s a game.

So as I listened to McElhenney’s rousing speech, I found myself in tears. I was transported back to those days when there was no marketing and metrics and planning and budgeting and customer service and project management and proofreading. It was just me sitting on the floor in my bedroom, drawing maps, cutting cards, and writing rules. It was just me juggling the soccer ball outside at sunset with my late father.

This isn’t to bemoan any of the business aspects of my job. I genuinely enjoy them, and I appreciate the variety they offer. I like that game design is only a small part of my job.

But with all the complications we make for ourselves and that come with being adults, the speech was a helpful reminder that there is a child in all of us who once did it for the love of the game. It’s worth honoring that child by seeking and spreading joy.

This may not resonate with your career compared to your childhood passions, but perhaps you can still relate to the concept of doing something purely for the love of it you first discovered when you were young. What does this speech make you think about?

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