There was a time when I thought being overlooked was something I needed to escape.

I wanted people to see me.

I wanted to be respected.

I wanted the opportunities.

I wanted people to understand that there was more inside me than what they could see on the outside.

But with time, I've started to see being an underdog differently.

Maybe being overlooked was never the problem.

Maybe it was part of the preparation.

I know what it feels like to start with less.

Growing up, I had ambitions very early.

I wanted to pursue things I didn't necessarily have the resources to pursue.

There were courses I wanted to take that my family couldn't fund.

There were opportunities I couldn't access because of circumstances outside my control.

I played rugby in school and performed well,
but because of documentation issues while living in South Africa,
there were opportunities and sponsorship possibilities that simply weren't available to me.

And then there was the physical side.

I was skinny.

Very skinny.

In high school, I was overlooked and mocked because of how I looked.
I was given embarrassing nicknames. Girls weren't exactly fighting for my attention.

I knew what it felt like to walk into a room and already feel like
people had decided what I was worth before I had even spoken.

And honestly?

Those experiences stayed with me.

But they also built something inside me.

The world will often judge the evidence in front of it.

People don't know your potential.

They know your current results.

They see your current body.

Your current bank account.

Your current job.

Your current relationships.

Your current social status.

Your current confidence.

And then they make a conclusion.

“That's who he is.”

But God doesn't work from the same evidence.

That is one of the most important things I've learned as an underdog.

Your current circumstances can describe where you are.

They do not have the authority to define who you are becoming.

I learned this through my body.

During my final year of high school, I made a promise to my friends.

I was going to have a six-pack before the end of the year.

It sounds simple now.

It wasn't.

It was 2020.

COVID disrupted almost everything.

In-person schooling was heavily restricted, and as a final-year student,
I had to teach myself much of what I needed to know from home.

I had exams to prepare for.

And I had this ridiculous promise I had made to myself about transforming my body.

Nobody needed me to do it.

Nobody was going to reward me for it.

There was no coach standing over me.

There wasn't some perfect environment.

I just had a decision.

So I trained whenever I could.

I studied whenever I could.

I kept going when motivation disappeared.

And by the end of that year, something happened that I didn't fully understand at the time.

I passed matric with a bachelor's pass.

And I had the six-pack I promised myself I would build.

My friends were shocked.

But I wasn't just shocked by the physical transformation.

I had discovered something much more valuable.

I could keep a promise to myself.

That changed the way I saw myself.

Fitness became more than looking good.

It became evidence.

Evidence that I could decide on something, endure the process and
eventually become the person capable of producing the result.

That lesson has followed me ever since.

But here's where the story gets deeper.

Becoming physically stronger didn't suddenly make life easy.

I still experienced rejection.

I still experienced disappointment.

I still encountered people who didn't believe in me.

I remember passing an interview for a job that would have completely
changed my financial circumstances at the time.

I had already worked at the refinery as a subcontractor.

People knew me.

I was invited to the interview.

I passed.

But I couldn't take the position because I didn't have the
required South African identity document.

That's the kind of rejection that is difficult to explain.

Because you can't tell yourself:

I had passed.

I simply couldn't access the opportunity.

So I went back to the work I had been doing.

And I remember the feeling.

Disappointment.

Frustration.

Confusion.

But eventually I had to make a decision:

Would this setback become my identity?

Or would it simply become another chapter?

I chose the second.

I kept working.

I kept preparing.

I kept believing that the future could still look different.

This is what I mean when I call myself an Underdog.

An underdog isn't necessarily the poorest man in the room.

He isn't necessarily the weakest.

He isn't necessarily the least talented.

An underdog is a man who understands that
​the evidence surrounding him doesn't yet reflect the vision inside him.

And that creates a dangerous temptation.

You can become bitter.

You can become desperate for validation.

You can start trying to prove everybody wrong.

You can turn your entire life into revenge.

I've felt that temptation.

But I've learned that revenge is not a strong enough foundation for purpose.

Eventually, you have to stop building your life around proving people wrong.

You have to start building it around becoming who God called you to be.

That's a completely different motivation.

The Underdog has to learn something
most men don't want to hear.

Nobody owes you belief.

Not your parents.

Not your friends.

Not your colleagues.

Not women.

Not society.

And sometimes, unfortunately, the people closest to you
won't understand the vision you have for your life.

That doesn't mean they're evil.

It doesn't even necessarily mean they're against you.

Sometimes people simply judge your future using what they have already seen from you.

And if you're starting from the bottom, there isn't much evidence to work with.

That's why you need something deeper than external validation.

You need conviction.

Because there will be seasons where nobody claps.

There will be seasons where your work doesn't produce immediate results.

There will be seasons where your prayers seem unanswered.

There will be seasons where you look at other men your age and
wonder why their lives appear so far ahead of yours.

And in those moments, comparison becomes dangerous.

Because you start measuring your chapter one against somebody else's chapter fifteen.

God has never needed impressive circumstances
to produce an impressive man.

Look at Joseph.

He went from being favoured to being betrayed, sold, imprisoned and forgotten.

Look at David.

He was a shepherd before he was a king.

Look at Daniel.

He remained faithful while living inside a culture that didn't share his convictions.

Look at Job.

His circumstances collapsed, yet his identity wasn't ultimately determined by what he lost.

The pattern is difficult to miss:

God can build a man in places that look nothing like the destination.

The wilderness can be preparation.

The rejection can be preparation.

The loneliness can be preparation.

The season where nobody notices you can be preparation.

The small job can be preparation.

The failed business can be preparation.

The weak body can become the starting point for discipline.

The disappointment can teach you endurance.

The lack of resources can force you to become resourceful.

And the season where you feel forgotten can teach you how to walk with God without applause.

But don't misunderstand me.

Being an underdog doesn't mean romanticising suffering.

I'm not telling you to stay poor.

I'm not telling you to accept mediocrity.

I'm not telling you that hardship automatically makes you a better man.

Pain doesn't automatically produce character.

What you do with pain does.

You can suffer and become bitter.

Or you can suffer and become wiser.

You can be rejected and become resentful.

Or you can become resilient.

You can be overlooked and spend your life demanding recognition.

Or you can quietly become undeniable.

You can have less and use it as an excuse.

Or you can use it as a reason to become resourceful.

That choice matters.

And this is where faith changes everything.

There have been moments in my own life where the future looked anything but bright.

Yet somewhere along the way, I came across Scripture that gave me a thought I continue to carry:

Not because my circumstances always say so.

Sometimes they say the complete opposite.

But because I have learned that God is not limited by the circumstances I can currently see.

Proverbs says:

That is the kind of hope an underdog needs.

Not optimism.

Not wishful thinking.

Hope rooted in God.

THE UNDERDOG STANDARD

So if you're reading this and you feel behind, overlooked,
underestimated or forgotten, here's what I want you to remember:

Stop asking whether people believe in you.

Ask whether you are being faithful with what God has placed in your hands.

Train your body.

Build your skills.

Read.

Work.

Pray.

Save.

Create.

Serve.

Learn.

Build your character.

Keep your word.

And most importantly:

Keep walking.

You don't need everybody to understand the vision.

You need enough conviction to keep moving toward it.

YOUR ASSIGNMENT THIS WEEK

I want you to do something simple.

Take a piece of paper and write:

“The things that made me an underdog.”

List them.

Maybe it's your upbringing.

Your body.

Your finances.

Your education.

Your mistakes.

Your family situation.

Your lack of connections.

Your failures.

Your past.

Your current circumstances.

Then underneath it, write:

“What can these things teach me?”

Not:

But:

That's the question of an underdog.

Because your circumstances may explain your starting point.

They don't get to determine your finish line.

I don't know what your future looks like right now.

Maybe you're 25 and feel behind.

Maybe you're 30 and feel like you should have accomplished more.

Maybe you're rebuilding your body.

Maybe you're rebuilding your faith.

Maybe you're rebuilding your finances.

Maybe you're trying to escape a version of yourself that you no longer recognise.

Maybe nobody around you understands what you're trying to build.

I know that feeling.

I'm still building too.

But this is what I remind myself:

I am not what my circumstances say I am.

I am not what people overlooked in me.

I am not the mistakes I've made.

I am not the opportunities I lost.

I belong to God.

And if God is still writing the story, then the story isn't finished.

So keep going, brother.

Build quietly.

Stay disciplined.

Keep God first.

Don't compromise your values just because the road gets difficult.

And when everything around you tells you that the future looks dark
—remember who holds the future.

The future looks bright.

— Junior

The Underdog Diary​
​Purpose | Fitness | Faith | Discipline

P.S. If you're an underdog too, don't be ashamed of your starting point.
​Start there. Build from there. And let God decide what your journey results to.