More Than Your Worst Moment: Gareth Southgate, Dear England and Self-Compassion

I recently watched the BBC series Dear England. Although it's set in the world of international football, what stayed with me afterwards wasn't really the football.  It was Gareth Southgate's relationship with failure.

Most of us know the story. In Euro 96, Southgate missed a penalty in the shootout against Germany. England were knocked out and, for years afterwards, that moment seemed to follow him everywhere. A few seconds became part of his identity in the eyes of the public.

Watching the series, I was struck by how familiar that feels psychologically. Not because most of us experience failure on such a public stage, but because many of us carry our own version of that missed penalty. A relationship that ended badly. A mistake at work. A decision we regret. A parenting moment we'd like to take back. Something we said in anger. Something we didn't say when we should have done. Often, the event itself isn't what causes the longest-lasting pain. It's the meaning we attach to it.

In therapy, I frequently meet people who are carrying around evidence from years ago to support a case against themselves. They talk about an old mistake as though it happened yesterday. The details remain vivid. The self-criticism remains active. The verdict has never really been questioned.

The internal narrative often sounds something like this:

"I should have known better."

"I let people down."

"That proves I'm not good enough."

Over time, a single event can become woven into our identity. Instead of thinking, I made a mistake, we begin to think, I am a mistake.

What I found moving about Dear England was that it wasn't a story about football results. It was a story about what becomes possible when we stop allowing one painful moment to define us.

When Southgate later became England manager, he seemed to bring a different approach to pressure and performance. There was greater openness around vulnerability, mental wellbeing and the realities of playing under intense scrutiny. Rather than pretending anxiety didn't exist, there was space to acknowledge it. That matters because many of us have learned the opposite lesson.

We often assume confidence comes from getting things right. We imagine resilient people don't struggle with self-doubt or embarrassment. We think that if we could just avoid making mistakes, we'd finally feel secure. But resilience doesn't come from avoiding failure, it comes from discovering that failure is survivable. Self-compassion is an important part of that process. Not because it excuses poor decisions or removes accountability, but because it allows us to respond to setbacks in a way that helps us grow rather than keeping us trapped in shame.

If a friend came to us after making a mistake, most of us wouldn't reduce their entire character to that one event. We'd see the bigger picture. We'd recognise their strengths as well as their shortcomings. Yet many people struggle to offer themselves the same perspective.

As the 2026 World Cup unfolds this summer, there will inevitably be moments of triumph and disappointment. Some players will be celebrated. Others will be criticised. A few seconds may shape public opinion for years. The same tendency exists in everyday life. We can all become attached to a single chapter of our story and mistake it for the whole book. The challenge is learning to hold those moments differently. To acknowledge them without allowing them to define us. To learn from them without repeatedly punishing ourselves for them. And to remember that one missed penalty, one difficult decision, one failed relationship or one painful period of life does not get the final say on who we are.

Perhaps we are all more than our worst moment.

Many of us carry old mistakes for far longer than we need to. If any of this resonates with you, and you'd like support in making sense of your own experiences, I offer therapy in Richmond and online across the UK and beyond. You're welcome to get in touch for a free 20-minute consultation.

Next
Next

The Myth of the Breakthrough Moment: Why Therapy Rarely Looks Like It Does on Screen