Just Keep Moving Forward

Growing up, I used to watch Rocky. There's a line that stayed with me:

"It ain't about how hard you hit… it's about how hard you can get hit and keep moving forward."

At the time, it was just a cool line from a movie I loved.

Looking back, it became a standard I lived by without even realizing it.

The Real Story

People think I got to the US, to Google, to pro soccer, and eventually started my own company because I was talented or lucky.

The real story is different.

I just kept moving forward.

I applied. Got rejected. Applied again. Got rejected again. More times than I can count.

If you've read my post about getting into Google, you know the details. Three separate interviews. Multiple rejections. Weeks of silence. A visa that was about to expire.

None of that story happened because of talent. It happened because I refused to stop.

The Moment Nobody Sees

But here's the part I don't talk about often.

I remember what those rejections actually felt like.

Not the story I tell now, cleaned up and packaged into a narrative. The real feeling.

That moment after you read the email. When doubt creeps in. When it would be so much easier to stop. To tell yourself "maybe this just isn't for me".

That's the moment that matters.

Not the win. Not the comeback. Not the Hollywood ending.

The moment where you almost quit and didn't.

That's where most people walk away. And honestly, I understand why. Rejection doesn't feel like a stepping stone when you're standing on it. It feels like a dead end.

What Rocky Got Right

Rocky wasn't about boxing. Not really.

It was about a guy who had no business being in the ring, and he knew it. Everyone knew it. But he showed up anyway.

Not to win. Just to still be standing at the end.

That's the part that stuck with me as a kid. Not the punches. Not the training montage. The decision to not quit when quitting made perfect sense.

And that's the pattern I've seen in my own life, over and over:

When I moved to the US with nothing, the smart move was to go back to Spain after the first contract fell through. I didn't.

When Google rejected me the first time, and then the second time, the smart move was to take the hint. I didn't.

When I started Torii with no clients, no investors and no safety net, the smart move was to go back to a comfortable full-time job. I didn't.

I'm not saying ignoring the smart move is always right. Sometimes it's just stubbornness. But sometimes the stubborn choice is the only one that leads somewhere new.

Rejections as Training

Every rejection became part of the story. Every setback became training.

Not proof that I wasn't good enough. Proof that I was still in the fight.

I've started to see rejection differently. Not as a verdict, but as information. It tells you where the gap is. It shows you what needs work. And if you're paying attention, it makes you sharper.

The people I admire most, in sports, in engineering, in life, all share one thing:

They didn't have fewer rejections than everyone else.

They just didn't let the rejections have the final word.