I still stammer. I just stopped waiting to speak

Tuesday 3rd November 2026

A young man smiling, with a football pitch in the background

Edward

Despite being fearful of speaking, Edward Lynch has started a podcast, travelled abroad on his own and even moved countries with his football coaching business. Here he tells us what it's all taught him about living with a stammer.

My name is Edward, I'm 18, I work as a football coach in Dubai, and I've been interviewing some of the biggest names in football since I was 14: Denis Irwin, John Barnes, Tom Cleverley and Charlie Austin to name a few. I've started my own football coaching business, travelled independently and moved halfway across the world to live and work in Cambodia.

From the outside, I probably look like someone who is confident in his voice. Am I? No, I don't think so.

When I was younger, I dreamed of becoming a football manager. I never really dreamed of being a player, which probably sounds strange, but I was always interested in the game on a deeper level. I wanted to understand how teams worked and what made people good leaders.

Maybe having a stammer made me more self-aware too. I thought a lot about who I was, how people saw me and what I wanted to do with my life. It probably made me an overthinker as well.

Struggles at school

School was difficult. I would put my hand up to answer a question, start speaking and stammer. Suddenly, everyone was looking at me. Sometimes there was a laugh, a smirk or just silence, which could feel worse.

It hurts to think there were moments in my childhood where something as basic as my own name became something I was frightened of saying.

I went to speech therapy and was taught techniques around breathing and slowing down. At the time, though, I didn't want techniques. I wanted to get on with my life. Or I wanted someone to give me a cure.

At the start of Year 10, we were asked to go around the room and say our name. I couldn't say mine. The following year, I emailed teachers beforehand and asked if we could avoid introductions. It hurts to think there were moments in my childhood where something as basic as my own name became something I was frightened of saying.

Putting myself out there

Eventually, though, something shifted. I was football obsessed, I loved podcasts and I wanted to make a difference. So I thought: why not start one? I remember how nervous I was before recording my first episode. I was petrified. But I had to ask myself: was I more scared of showing people who I really was, or of living a life controlled by fear? So I told my story. I invited people on. And I pressed record. Then I pressed record again. And again.

A young man standing next to the footballer Dennis Irwin, both are smiling

Edward with footballer Dennis Irwin

I did it for years, interviewing some of the biggest names in sport and business and something started happening. Young people began messaging me. Some stammered themselves. Some were struggling with confidence. Some were simply trying to work out who they were and looking for a little bit of hope that things might change. That meant more to me than I realised.

I had to ask myself: was I more scared of showing people who I really was, or of living a life controlled by fear?

Then, in my final year of school, I started my own football coaching business. Looking back, I sometimes wonder what I was thinking. Here I was, someone who had spent years worrying about speaking in front of people, starting a business based around communication. I had to introduce myself to parents, lead coaching sessions and build relationships with players.

Over time my business grew, and I began delivering sessions for different age groups, including younger children and girls. It was something I was incredibly proud of. Sometimes I would struggle to introduce myself, get stuck explaining something or overthink a conversation long after it had finished. Yet I kept going.

Independence

Travelling alone also become a huge part of my life. This year, I've travelled to Vietnam, Athens and Bali, all on my own. For someone who spent years worrying about speaking, solo travelling might seem a strange thing to fall in love with, because you have nobody else to do the talking for you. You have to introduce yourself to strangers, ask for directions, check into accommodation and order food. But the biggest thing travelling has taught me is that the world doesn't stop because you struggle to say something. Confidence isn't necessarily about feeling comfortable. Sometimes it's about being uncomfortable and choosing to do something anyway.

My stammer has travelled with me rather than stopped me travelling.

At 18, I took that independence a step further, making the decision to move to Cambodia on my own to work full-time as a football coach. I was thousands of miles from home, living independently and building a life in a new country.

A man kneeling on a football pitch, with a team of children in football kits standing around him, listening

Edward coaching young footballers in Cambodia

There were challenges, of course. Moving abroad at 18 wasn't easy, and there were moments when I questioned myself. But I met some incredible people, worked with brilliant young footballers and experienced what it was like to build a life independently in such a beautiful and unique country. I learnt an enormous amount about responsibility, independence and who I wanted to become.

What changed?

I recently returned to Dubai to take on a new opportunity with a football academy. I'm still coaching, meeting new people and putting myself in situations where I have to use my voice.

I wish I could point to one moment and say: "That was when everything changed." But I can't. Because nothing really changed. I still stammer. For years, I thought confidence would arrive when my stammer reduced. I thought one day speaking would become easier and then I could properly get on with my life. That day never came. What changed was that I stopped waiting for it. My stammer has travelled with me rather than stopped me travelling. It didn't disappear when I boarded those planes. I just stopped letting it decide whether I should get on them.

I used to think the goal was to become fluent. I don't anymore. My goal is to make sure the boy who once emailed his teachers because he was scared he would not be able to say his own name never feels like he has to hide again.

I can't tell you that one day everything will magically become easy. What I can say is something I wish I had understood much earlier. Your voice is worth hearing even if you don't think its 'perfect'. And maybe the bravest thing you can do is use it anyway.

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