Why I Tapped

Turning surrender into a blueprint for elite performance

It's November 2002.

I'm 21, stepping onto the mat in an amateur MMA tournament in Nottingham, England. The setup is bare—just wrestling mats, a small crowd in the bleachers, and my heart pounding as I wait for my first match.

My opponent is Paul Daley, who would go on to fight in the UFC. But back then, I just saw him as a powerful, relentless opponent who came at me with everything he had.

From the moment the bell rang, Daley had me on the defensive, landing shots and keeping me on my back foot. Then, I found an opening—a left hand to his body, followed by a guillotine choke as he shot for a takedown. It was tight, and within moments, he tapped. I'd won my first match.

But winning one fight is just the beginning in amateur tournaments like this. I had 45 minutes until my next match and needed to recover fast. I tried to find a quiet spot to let my body settle, but the adrenaline was still coursing through me. My heart kept racing, my energy drained by the second, and no amount of mental effort seemed to slow it down. By the time I returned to the mat for my second match, I was gassed.

When the first round started, I hit an immediate takedown. Landing strikes from the top, I was dominating the round. But with every strike, I could feel my energy slipping away. Then, with only a minute and a half to go, my opponent locked in a last-ditch armbar. He didn't have a good angle, and I would have fought it off under normal circumstances. But my gas tank was empty, and I knew even if I won this match, I'd have no chance in the next; I tapped.

Not because of my skill but because my body and mind had nothing left to give.

That experience was a turning point for me. As I watched fighters like Paul Daley, Michael Bisping, and Dan Hardy rise through the ranks, I realized that even if I had the physical skills to compete, I lacked the mental tools to manage my energy, control my nerves, and recover between rounds. I didn't realize it at the time, but this moment was my first step on a journey to understand and master the inner game that makes or breaks a performance.

In those fights, it wasn't my skill that failed me—it was my inability to manage my energy and mindset in the crucial moments. In life, just as in competition, success often hinges on how we handle the spaces between high-pressure moments. Learning to pace yourself, knowing when to push and when to pull back, and keeping your mind steady under stress can make all the difference.

As you face your own challenges, consider where you might be burning out before the finish line. Success isn't always about pushing harder; sometimes, it's about learning to stay calm and conserve energy for when it matters most.

See you next week,
Elliot Roe