“I love it when you’re strict like this.”
Rona and her gorgeous ass disappeared out of the bedroom.
I lay back down and stared at the ceiling. Something about this invite onto such a well-known podcast made me feel alive. There was something so expansive about it. I couldn’t wait to get down there.
***
The podcaster’s team was very professional. Very polite. I was a huge fan of the show and was routinely watching his videos on loads of different topics circling this idea of high performance. Daniel Greenwood introduced himself with a hug. He seemed grounded, genuine, and very switched on. I liked him instantly.
“Welcome, Lily Sharpe. We’re so happy to have you with us today. I’m a big fan.”
This was such a trip. I never got used to people recognising me and appreciating my time in football, especially people whom I admired and weren’t in the football world. “Thank you. That means a lot coming fromyou. I mean, I’m a massive fan of you and your show. I listen to you all the time.”
He nodded confidently, once. It felt like an appraisal albeit a positive one. “Happy to hear that. Let’s get you prepped and my assistant will run through the format and question set.”
I was guided through the plush studio in the middle of Shoreditch to a sort of dressing room. The assistant had red hair, wore thick black glasses and a tweed blazer. Her look was very librarian, and it suited her. I felt safe in her company.
She handed me a sheet of paper with a list of questions and notes. “If you want to give this a read through that could help with the flow of things. Our make-up artist will be in soon. She can see if you need and want a touch up.”
I gripped the paper. I’d done interviews to television and once appeared in a documentary. I’d spoken with journalists and went on various radio stations in addition to my more recent commentating gig. But none had been exclusively about me as a person. I’d avoided those types of interviews so far because my football was about my team. Not me as an individual. Today was one way to buck that trend though.
After a little bit of make-up and two read-throughs of the questions, I found myself sitting in the famous studio. It had a simple round table with some sparsely decorated contemporary bookcases behind us, and some plants. The space itself seemed to encourage a deep conversation.
Daniel breezed in and sat down. He straightened his chair and tucked his papers neatly in front of him. He looked up and smiled at me warmly, as if gathering his thoughts and biding his time.
Assistants and camerapeople fussed around us. I’d been given a silver cup with coffee in it.
“Before we get started, was everything okay on the list of questions?”
“Mostly. But I was wondering if we could not focus so much on the questions at the end about what I’m planning to do next. You know, the ones where you ask about what my next move is and where I see myself in five years’ time?”
“What do these questions bring up for you?” Daniel leaned forward. It felt like the show had started already.
“I’m still figuring that out at the moment, and I’d rather not discuss it too much.”
He looked at me right in the eyes. “Okay. I tell you what. When we get towards the end, I’ll ask you what you’re most excited about right now. How does that sound instead?”
“Perfect.”
The studio was silenced and we were told we were recording. Daniel gave me his trademark welcome smile, as if we had only just met. He introduced me with a flattering monologue listing all the titles, trophies, and awards I’d won over my career, as well as my work for charity and now more recently as a football pundit. He said I was a trailblazing ambassador for women’s football and an international credit to the UK.
I choked up a bit and did my best to hide it.
He asked me some fairly straightforward questions about my footballing days to get us going. I gave him the usual replies of how amazing and humbling it was to play at that level and for so long and how much I was grateful for the incredible teammates and coaches I was fortunate enough to work with.
Things started to get more interesting when he did that thing he does and started asking questions I’d never been asked before.
“Where do you think your drive in life comes from?”
On a show about high performance and what it takes to succeed, I welcomed his question, and, I was determined to give an honest answer. If I’d wanted to push a sugar-coated narrative of my life and career, I’d have done personal interviews a long time ago. But I was ready now. I was reflecting on my career and looking back, so I could move forward.
“I had pushy parents. They’re high achievers themselves, you could say. They could see I had a talent for football at a young age. So they threw everything into it, into me, and my game. In many ways, the whole house came to revolve around my football and my development. It helped that I genuinely loved playing football. I think they knew it wouldn’t work to pick something I didn’t love.”
“Your parents must be very proud.”
I shrugged my shoulders. Part of the reason I was so tortured about what to do after my football career was because I grew up being made to feel like an athletic but not a very bright child. I’d achieved more than my parents ever could have expected of me in football, but as for the rest, they now had no particular hopes for me. I would forever bask in my glory and sit firmly out to pasture.
“How would you describe your relationship with your parents?”
