Nobody tells stories about the game played in perfect weather. Be glad for the mud.

Perfect conditions produce nothing worth retelling. Nobody describes the afternoon where the field was dry, the score was comfortable and everything went to plan. The stories are all about the mud, the power cut, the bus breaking down, because difficulty is what makes a day distinct from every other day. Hardship is not the point, but it is what memory grabs onto.

When the next thing goes sideways, notice the small shift from complaining to narrating. You are in the part you will talk about later, which does not mean enjoying it while your socks are soaked. It means the ruined plan is not the day being wasted.