Patrik Raitanen: "How modelling changed my perspective on football"

Finnish defender Patrik Raitanen plays for IFK Mariehamm. The former Liverpool academy player balances his football career with professional modelling work. In 2020 he experienced negative treatment as a player due to his appearance, which impacted his mental well-being.

By Patrik Raitanen

Around five years ago I found myself on the floor of the dressing room, hysterically crying, struggling for breath and unable to move. It was the first time I acknowledged I was having a panic attack. I thought it was the end of my football journey.

From the age of 16 I was part of the Liverpool youth programme and, as a player, I benefitted from the routine and the habits they drill into you. I took it all on board, committing myself to football in every aspect of my life and I was determined to be as professional as I could be.

However, those years are also important in developing yourself as a person, and I let that aspect slip. Perhaps it was because I was living abroad and didn’t have the background noise that most of us have growing up – school friends, family. Everything I did revolved around football: what I ate, when I slept, who I spoke to. It got to the point where it had consumed my whole identity.

When I tore my ACL, damaged my meniscus and spent almost a year recovering, I really started to question it. I was still a footballer, I still went to training every day and was in the dressing room with my team-mates, but when someone asked me what I had going on, I didn’t really have anything to tell them.

With no other players with long-term injuries that season, I spent a lot of time alone focusing on my rehab. I started to think more about how I had been defining myself over the past few years and about the other aspects of my personality that I hadn’t yet explored. 

I decided I wanted to do something else – something that was going to challenge me and fill the gap that had been left in my life through not playing football. I started painting and focusing more on expressing myself through my clothes.

I eventually put myself out there and went to a modelling agency. They asked me to tell them about myself. I told them my hobbies, my interest in fashion, my personality – it was the first time in my life I didn’t just say “I’m a footballer” and leave it at that. It felt good.

I started focusing a bit more on modelling, which really helped me – it gave me something to think about other than being injured. It’s helped my perspective with football in general. Before if I had made a mistake in training, I would agonise about it for days afterwards because there was nothing else to distract me.

Modelling became a strength of mine. I was confident in who I was, I went to work wearing clothes that made me feel like myself, and I was so happy to be coming to training everyday as a more balanced person. People responded to that, and I found myself making really good connections with people – especially my team-mates.

It was so different to how I felt about myself when I was playing in the Netherlands five years ago. I was so excited to start at Fortuna Sittard. It was a big club for a young Finnish player to be at and my first week in training was the best I had ever experienced. I thought all my dreams were coming true.

I was on the bench but that was to be expected. I was only 18; I had to be patient and just give 100 percent at training. Then I was dropped from the squad for quite a long period despite performing well in my substitute appearances. The coach had stopped engaging with me about my game and it felt he only gave me unconstructive criticism. I started to become confused: I needed help to develop myself as a player, but instead I was getting put down for everything I was as a person.

I tried to speak with him a few times, but he would never respond to my questions. Instead, he would change the conversation to the fact I had long hair and focused on my appearance, such as my clothes when I arrived at training.

It made me self-conscious. I started to hesitate when I was dressing in the morning, wondering what would be deemed acceptable – getting to the point where I was almost late because I was overthinking it. I ended up shunning my usual wardrobe for more conventional clothes, neglecting my other interests and my mental wellbeing, just to please the coach. I felt like a fraud and an outsider, and the things that made me different – things I had prided myself on – started to make me sad.

It all came to a head in January when I checked the list of players that would be travelling to Turkey for the winter training camp and everyone – including the injured players – was marked to fly out. Except for me.

After the captain tried to speak to him on my behalf, the coach eventually told me that someone had to be left behind, and that I could just train by myself while everyone was gone. I didn’t know how to respond. I went home and trained with my brother. When I came back to the club, I was told they had signed a new player. My stuff had been moved to the side of the locker room. I was removed from the first team.  

I found it difficult because I had come to play first-team football. There were moments that I was enjoying myself, and I got a few games in with the reserves, until I got injured.

I wasn’t allowed to use the first team’s medical resources. I didn’t even get an MRI. When I tried to pass a ball for the first time since hurting myself, I realised after a month of resting and rehab – which was the recommendation – that my knee wasn’t okay.

It was during this time, when I was at the gym everyday with the U-17 physiotherapist – who was a rock for me – working on my recovery during the day, and going home and crying at night, that I started having panic attacks.

I called my mum and agent, and told them I couldn’t do it anymore. I had to stop. I didn’t have the capability to go forward like this. My agent phoned the coach to see what was going on and eventually he came to speak to me.

There was no apology. No explanation. No responsibility taken. He told me that I could go home if I liked. So that’s what I did.

It was a horrible period for me. I did my rehab and would go for runs to keep up my fitness, but I would break down crying in the middle of them. I had almost given up. Football just held such negative connotations for me that it didn’t seem worth pursuing it any longer.

I started working with a psychologist and sports mental health specialists, and they, as well as my family and my agent, helped me get back on my feet. Eventually when an opportunity for a trial in Italy came up, I managed to impress them, but when they offered me a contract, I was hesitant about signing it.

What if the same thing happened? What if it undid all the work I had done? My family, though, convinced me not to give up on football. I decided to give it one last chance. I’m so glad I did. I had an incredible year, with lots of game time, and made some of the best friends I’ve ever had. I fell in love with football again.