The title of this story should be “Wally Pipp’ed without being Wally Pipp”—but to keep to the hockey theme, we’ll call it “The Unraveling of My Hockey Dream.”

I had always loved hockey, and when I discovered an opening for a camera operator with the local amateur team, I jumped at the chance. I believed that showing up early and doing the job would secure my spot—unlike Wally Pipp, who lost his position to Lou Gehrig for taking a day off. I was determined to avoid a similar fate.

The media relations guy welcomed me warmly, and I made it a point to arrive early every time, pouring my heart into each game. To feel like a true part of the team, I ordered their hat and shirt, ie. merchandise with the team logo. You could not buy them from the team directly but had to do so online from a third-party store. Little did I know that this small investment would lead to a nightmare. The store’s communication was poor; they insisted I download the “Shop” app to track shipping. Long story short, downloading that particular app—again, for the purpose of tracking the shipping—wrecked my phone, costing me $140 for a new one. By the time my gear finally arrived, my excitement had soured into frustration.

Then came the gut punch. Two weeks after I had received the merchandise, the media relations guy texted me, casually mentioning that the team management was bringing in a college student to take over the camera work. My heart sank. I had invested so much into this position, convinced that my dedication would pay off. Instead, I felt like a placeholder, just another face until someone else came along.

I couldn’t shake the words of a relative who had questioned my spending on the team’s merchandise: “You’re probably spending more than you’re making.” I had brushed it off at the time, thinking my passion justified the costs. But now, those words echoed in my mind, a bitter reminder of my misplaced priorities. The shirt and hat I wore with pride felt useless—tokens of a dream that had slipped away.

Disgusted and disheartened, I reflected on the experience. I was reminded of something I should have already known—it doesn’t matter if you show up early and do the job. It does not matter that you are fairly competent and reliable in the job. In other fields, in other workplaces, people often keep their jobs for showing up late, being incompetent, and being rude to customers. Life stinks, and sometimes it feels like everything you pour your heart into can crumble in an instant.

I had hoped to contribute to something I loved, but instead, I felt cast aside, much like Pipp, who had been replaced without a second thought.

As I packed away my team gear, I realized that passion alone wouldn’t secure my place in this world. I would need to find a new path, one where I could truly thrive—not just as a fan, but as someone whose dedication could lead to something meaningful. It was time to redefine my journey, seeking opportunities where my passion and effort could truly make a difference, ensuring I wouldn’t be left behind again.

Update: I’ve decided to give that store a one-star rating as a review.