TOM TALENT | Personal blog

My name is Tom and my story is full of twists and turns, joys, but also difficult moments that have led me to this point - to motivate children to move and to write children's sports books, which I share with you today.

Note! All the images you will see on my blog are randomly edited from original photographs using AI into 3D animation.

# 16 | New Mission Tom & Kib: Here It All Begins

In life there are moments when you feel it's time to start from scratch. Not like the old Tom who wanted to do everything, but like a person who knows what's truly important. I'm starting a new stage – a series of children's sports books "Tom and Kib."

I feel it similarly to twenty years ago when I was starting out. There's that right nervousness, that anticipation, that hunger to inspire someone. Even though I've been on Mauritius for a while now, only now do I feel like the real ride is beginning. Mauritius isn't just a place. It's a state of mind I want to put into my stories.

This new mission is a challenge for me. "Tom and Kib" isn't just a project – it's my message to children. I want them to know that no matter what happens in life, movement and imagination are cures for every ailment. It will be a ride full of adventure, fair play, friendship and never-ending joy and fun. And I'll be really happy if you're part of it.

This mission doesn't end. It's just beginning.

Who's coming with me?

# 15 | 8000 Once More: A Recap in Prague

I'm back in Prague, at my sports camps. As if the circle has closed. I can't imagine a Czech summer without children, without their laughter, without that bustle in the gymnasium and on the field. It's my "charging station." But next summer will have a slightly different flavor – I'm going back to Mauritius to finally organize camps of dreams like in Prague. I'm already looking forward to it because it will mean I'm starting another "thousand."

Recently I did a kind of recap. Thousands of children I spent part of their lives with – hours, weeks. How many of them could I have influenced? How many of them did I invite into my world of movement? It's a huge number and when I look at it, I feel humility.

It's not just statistics. It's 8000 stories, 8000 smiles, 8000 moments of overcoming fear. I'm proud that I could be their "dad in action," even if just for a while. Whether it was in Prague or now on the other side of the world, my mission remains the same: to show that movement is the best game a person can play.

I already know that even if the next eight thousand doesn't work out and it's just a thousand, or maybe just a hundred… A dirty and sweaty T-shirt is better than a clean T-shirt in a closet. Because no one washes out experiences. Not even the most perfect washing machine in the world.

# 14 | Pikador: Joy Hidden in a Roll

Can happiness taste like a sausage in a roll? In my opinion, yes. Don't expect any gastronomic critique of American hot dogs with ketchup and mustard from my blog. I'm a patriot of Pikador, as we call a sausage in a roll in South Bohemia. The real, South Bohemian sausage in a roll you get at a stand when you go to a swimming pool in summer or to a ice-hockey game in winter, and where its aroma welcomes you upon arrival at the stadium. When you need to quickly get something warm and uncomplicated into yourself, Pikador is the best choice.

Pikador is a symbol for me. It's that small, ordinary joy that brings tears to your eyes in moments when everything goes wrong. It's a reminder of home, a reminder of simplicity. Sometimes in life the biggest crises are solved by simply stopping, getting something good to eat, and realizing that tomorrow will be a bit better.

Each of us has our stories, our falls, and our hopes. But each of us also has these small rituals that keep us afloat. I write about it to show children that it's not always necessary to reach for the stars. Sometimes it's enough to just believe in yourself, do what you love – and occasionally treat yourself to a simple, good Czech sausage in a roll. That's the message I want to pass on.

# 13 | Less Is Sometimes More: A New Life Philosophy

Today you won't find me on the field from morning to evening. I don't torture myself anymore about how many hours I need to work to be "sufficiently active." I've learned the magic of slowing down. "Less is sometimes more," I tell myself more and more often now. And you know what? It's true.

I work less, but I enjoy every second so much more. When I'm now at children's sports camps or teaching inline skating, I'm not mentally at ten other projects. I'm there. With the children. And it has much deeper value for me. Before, I wanted to manage everything at once – be everywhere, win everything, do everything. Now it's enough for me to know at the end of the day that I've passed on the joy of movement to someone.

It's a calming feeling. I gave up the race to be the most successful coach long ago. My goal is no longer to be the most "busy," but to be the most "present." Because in the end, that's the only thing that will remain of all of us – not those thousands of hours on the field, but those hundreds of moments when we were fully with someone who needed us.

# 12 | Mission Accomplished: The Price of Return

Fate has a sense for dramatic turns. Just when I was getting used to life "without obligations and stress" on Mauritius, came a phone call… or FaceTime… or WhatsApp. I can't remember exactly which of those perfect inventions it was. Modern technology is truly miraculous in this regard. At least for me.

Sabi needed help. A big life challenge awaited her – entrance exams for her dream school.

And me? At that time I was in a very loving relationship, planning a future with someone new. But family is family. When my daughter asked me to come back and be her support, I couldn't say no. That just wasn't possible.

The price of that return was high – I lost a romantic love that was beginning to bloom in my life again, and I also lost even more, which I had no idea about when I left. A few weeks after my departure came a miscarriage. Yes, we lost a baby. I was also accused of abandoning her when she needed me most, and of prioritizing the "big" daughter.

It hurt. Terribly. I felt like the biggest culprit in the world. After all, I "just" wanted to fulfill my parental duty. No one can blame me for that… or can they? In my defense, I want to add that it was a departure for just a few months. From the beginning, everyone knew I would return to Mauritius.

You know what's most important though? The mission succeeded. Sabi got into the school. Was it worth it? Probably yes. Probably? Definitely yes. Someone might feel differently, but for me in this particular story, parental love is simply more than romantic love.

# 11 | Yes, But…: Pangs of Conscience in Paradise

Mauritius is paradise, there's no doubt about that. But you know how they say it can even rain in paradise? For me it was rain of inner pangs of conscience. I often sat on the beach watching the sunset, thinking about Sabi. I left her on the other side of the world. Even though she, as a thirteen-year-old, gave me "permission" at the time, I was always troubled by whether it was fair to ask such a decision of a child.

She did tell me several times that she was living a beautiful life with her mom, a dreamed-of small brother, and a stepfather, and that they were a happy family, but that worm of doubt gnawed at me. "You left her, Tom." Even though she regularly flies to see me and loves the island as much as I do, that "but" was always there. It's the price of seeking your own peace.

As a dad, you always ask yourself: "Did I do enough for her? Wasn't my decision selfish?" It's that eternal struggle between "I had to do it for myself to be a good dad" and "I abandoned her when she needed me most." These are pangs of conscience I probably won't get rid of, and that's why I put these feelings into my books and stories too. They're the true, sometimes painful fragments of my story.

# 10 | Space Tom: My Tiger Hero Was Born

The peace Mauritius gave me, began to produce ideas. A place where many just lie and sunbathe became a creative incubator for me. I started writing. And these weren't just notes in a drawer – they were stories for children. Space Tom the tiger cub was born.

My books aren't a guide on how to be the best. They're about how to be happy. They're about a child's ability to see the world as a playground full of possibilities. I write about fair play, about respect, about cooperation – values that are easily lost in today's fast world. Space Tom draws children into a world where anything is possible if you have the courage to pursue it.

I want to inspire the next generation to move – not as an obligation in PE class, but as a joy. Whether they dance, run, or skate, I want them to feel the same thing I felt when I stood on the ice. 

Space Tom stories are here to show kids that it's not the medals that matter, but the feeling they get when they're doing something they truly enjoy. 

And if I manage to inspire at least one child to get up from their tablet and go outside to move, then my stories have meaning.

# 9 I Need Change: Escape to the End of the World

When you hit bottom, you have two options. Either stay there or bounce back. I chose option number two – bounce and fly. Literally. I needed to distance myself from everything that reminded me of my past failures. I wanted a place where no one knew me, where I wouldn't be "that dad in action," but just a person. And a dad, of course – because no one will ever take that title from me.

I traveled to various corners of the globe for a while until I ended up in Mauritius. That island is exactly as you imagine it in advertisements: palm trees, white sand, and water that seems to have every shade of blue that exists. But for me, Mauritius wasn't about vacation. It was my sanctuary.

At first I was like a wild animal, used to European pace. But the island taught me. No rush, no stress, just endless peace. And in that peace my eyes began to clear. I met new people, a different culture, and most importantly – I began to hear myself again. It's incredible how much internal noise prevents you from seeing reality. On Mauritius, only the ocean rustled, and in that rustling I rediscovered who Tom is after a long time. It was a return to roots, a cleansing of unnecessary things, and preparation for a new stage that I had no idea about at the time.

# 8 | How Fragile Life Can Be: When the House of Cards Collapses

Life sometimes has such a strange sense of irony. When you think you've finally sorted everything out and it's holding together, a gust of wind comes and scatters it. For me, it was first a career rush that consumed me so much that I stopped perceiving balance. Work, projects, constant movement – that was all my mask. And then came the turning point.

My marriage fell apart. I lost that basic point, that certainty that kept me grounded. And on top of all that, as if that blow wasn't enough, came cancer. A disease that threw a cruel truth about the fragility of life in my face. Suddenly it didn't matter how many trainings I had planned or which camp was next in line. Suddenly it was about survival.

When I finally began to get back on my feet after treatment and believed the worst was behind me, then… Sabi came with the news that her knees hurt. A lot. So we started dealing with it. The result? First she had to stop all sports for several months, and then came an even harsher verdict from the doctors. Sabi has to choose whether to play hockey or dance. Both sports at an elite level could be physically devastating for her, or rather devastating for her knees.

Even though I'm a coach by profession and called myself "dad in action" a lot, I bear a huge share of the blame here. I was convinced that if Sabi recovered well, we would do compensatory exercises, stretching, swimming, relaxing… then it would be fine. But it wasn't. My sporty girl had up to seven trainings a week. Some days she'd run straight from hockey to the gymnasium to dance. Then weekend games, tournaments, and competitions. When the hockey players had a lighter part of the season, the dancers were in full swing. And when the dancers were relaxing more, hockey was charging forward like an icebreaker.

Even though I fully respected that she ultimately decided on dancing, that hockey was over, and outwardly I seemed positive that dancing was the right choice, inside I was broken. The hockey talent that Sabi had was enormous – and that made the disappointment even greater. But I bear a huge share of the blame. That's a fact. So I didn't even try to influence her decision in any way. Parents should help their children find the right path in life, not complicate it further.

There were so many days and nights of crying and suffering that she had to endure that they could make an entire sad series, the saddest and most tear-filled series ever broadcast on HBO or Netflix. Fortunately, she decided on a happy ending in the form of dance – and I had to learn that sometimes the greatest victory is simply to stop pushing.

Today I must admit that her decision was the best she could have made. Her dance successes and awards speak for themselves. Here I can only say: "Sabi, I'm proud of you and it confirms what I wrote in story number 2 – quality crushes quantity!"

Sabi made the right choice. But what about me? I was left standing in an empty room, alone with my restless mind. Confused, broken, and looking for an answer to the question: "What now, when I'm no longer that active dad who was always in the center of things?" It was a lesson I wouldn't wish on anyone, but I had to go through it alone.

# 7 | The Other Side of Sports: When a Player Becomes a Fan

Sports isn't just about having a sweaty shirt and raging in a gymnasium or on a field. As a "dad in action," I wanted to show Sabi the other face too – the one where you sit in the stands, cheer and cheer so much that you shout your voice hoarse. Only in the stands do you become part of a huge, pulsing organism called the fan community. That's nothing like cheering in front of the TV.

We traveled a piece of the world. We were at world competitions and championships in the Netherlands, Croatia, Portugal, Spain, Finland, Germany, Denmark, Slovakia, and the Czech Republic. Seeing that energy and precision of professional athletes – that gives you a completely different perspective. The atmosphere in stadiums, where national pride mixes with pure joy of the game, is contagious.

And then there are the peaks – moments when you think: "I had to be here." Barcelona and the famous Camp Nou, where you get goosebumps when almost a hundred thousand fans sing the club anthem. The legendary Messi in a PSG jersey. Sitting in the stands among thousands of people and seeing genius in action – that's not just a sports experience, it's a lesson in everything from determination to humility. Or seeing the legendary hockey player Jágr with your own eyes. Wow, folks – that can't be put into words. You just have to be there.

I wanted Sabi to know that sport is also about spectators, about the art of appreciating the performance of others, and about the ability to be swept up by the crowd. Because when you occasionally transform into a fan, you find inspiration you never dreamed of.

# 6 | Return to Childhood: When a Dream Becomes Reality

You know how they say a parent should let their children go their own way? That's true, but what if that path happens to intersect with your greatest passion? When Sabi told me she wanted to play hockey, I felt like that same passion I had as a boy was flowing through my veins again.

Standing on the bench as a dad watching his own daughter skate, chase the puck, and fight for space on the ice – that's a feeling that can't be described. It was like a dream. Like I'd traveled back in time and was reliving my own beginnings, except now I was in the role of spectator and mentor. I saw her experience her first tournaments, the joy of victory and tears after a lost game.

It was a beautiful hockey triangle: me as a former player, Sabi as new hope, and hockey as the connecting link between our generations. My parents once went to my games, trembled with fear when I got up off the ice after a hard hit, and cheered at every goal. Now I was in their shoes. And you know what? It's much harder on the nerves than actually playing, but at the same time it's the most beautiful reward a sports dad can get.

Even though I would never go into the hockey net. For that, Sabi has my enormous admiration and respect.

# 5 | Joy and Passion: A Dad in Action Who Doesn't Give Up

When you lose your own playing field, you start building one for others. I decided to transform the energy I put into my own game into a mission: to pass on the love of movement to children. Thousands of children have passed through my hands at sports courses, camps, ice rinks, family camps, and school trips. And each one taught me something new.

It wasn't just about training skating, skiing, or gymnastics. It was about taking on the role of "dad in action." I wanted to be the one who shows children that overcoming the fear of their first jump over an obstacle or a fall on skates is a huge victory. Every smile, every "I did it" was worth gold to me.

I devoted myself to fitness and health exercises, organized sports events, festivals and tournaments, or dance competitions. But my greatest motivation was Sabi. I wanted her to have the best childhood, rich in movement and shared fun. I often heard around me: "Tom, you're doing this all the time," and I just smiled. Yes, I was. Because when you see a child who was afraid to move suddenly joyfully racing on skates, you know your work has meaning. It's an incredibly fulfilling mission – to show children that sport isn't just hard work, but mainly a game they create themselves.

With Sabi, we did just about everything you can imagine in the sports world. We knew water in all its states, and we could write an encyclopedia about playing fields and gymnasiums. It would definitely become a bestseller – which actually isn't a bad idea. It's kind of a Plan B if things don't work out completely with children's books.

# 4 | A New Path on Wheels: When Hockey Says "Enough"

Hearing a doctor's verdict that you'll never put on hockey skates again is like taking a puck straight to the heart. Hockey was my world, my outlet, my definition of who I am. The blow I received was devastating. Suddenly a void opened before me – no locker room, no ice, no team cheer.

I could have given up, sat down in front of the television, and felt sorry for myself. But that's not in my nature. If doors close on me, I find a window. And that window for me became inline skating. At first it was just a replacement, a kind of "emergency measure" on asphalt, but soon I discovered new magic in it. Hockey is a game bounded by boards, while inline skating is about freedom. Suddenly I could skate for kilometers, discover new paths, and feel the wind in my hair in a way an ice rink never offered.

It was an interesting school of skating adaptation. I had to learn some new techniques, get used to a different surface and different style of movement – for example, when stopping. But every minute on skates taught me that change doesn't have to be a loss. It's just a different path to reach your goal. And soon I discovered that the joy the ice gave me could be found elsewhere too.

Hockey was my youth. Inline skating became my adulthood – a refuge where I could continue to grow, even though fate decided otherwise.

# 3 | The Tiger Entered My Life: From Malaysia to the Living Room

My family were nomads. For us, a vacation wasn't about lying on a beach with a drink in hand – we needed movement, discovery, and occasionally a bit of adrenaline. We'd traveled across Europe in every direction, then came Africa and finally Asia. Thailand became our heart's concern. It was a place you return to because the energy there is simply contagious.

It was there, during one of our expeditions, that something happened which I then considered a pleasant incident, but today I perceive as a fateful sign. Sabi petted and fed a live tiger cub. She was so small and the beast so fragile. At that moment, I didn't know that this fascinating striped creature would become my lifelong guide.

But my relationship with tigers began much earlier, deep in childhood. I was a fanatical reader of adventure stories, and Sandokan, the legendary Tiger of Malaysia, was my hero. I was fascinated by his strength, independence, and the respect he commanded. Who would have thought that a few years later I would be writing children's books where a tiger cub plays a key role?

It's one of those ironic tricks of life: what fascinates you as a boy becomes your professional identity years later. Tigers are for me a symbol of inner strength and courage that I try to instill not only in my daughter, but in all children who read – or will read – my stories.

# 2 | Family as Foundation: My Unfulfilled Statistics

By nature, I've always been a visionary. I love big things, big challenges, and big plans. And family? I had a clear plan for that – I wanted to have a whole bunch of children at home. The image of a Sunday morning with at least three kids running around the apartment, sports bags scattered in the hallway, and more noise in the kitchen than at a league match, was my definition of happiness.

But reality is such that life usually doesn't ask us about our statistical estimates. We managed to have "just" one child. Sabi. And you know what? Even though my original plan for a "large family squadron" didn't work out, over time I realized that in this case, quality absolutely crushes quantity.

Family is the foundation of everything. It's that solid point in time you return to when the world is crumbling beneath your feet, and at the same time the first harbor where you anchor your successes so they have real value.

Sometimes I sit down and with a smile – perhaps slightly ironic – observe other families trying to manage their three or four children, and in that moment I think: "Tom, maybe you weren't so ambitious in this regard as you wanted to be, but the one you have, you've brought to perfection." The family bond we've built means more to me than any medal or number of children in a family photo frame. It's my security, my home, and my greatest victory in life.

And even though I once planned a hockey team, today I know that in tennis, for example, which is for two, it's a beautiful game – when you have the right partner and opponent at the same time.

# 1 | Sabi Was Born: The Moment Time Stood Still

I always thought my life was perfectly aligned. I knew where I wanted to be in five years, what I wanted to achieve in sports, and what my career should look like. I felt in control of every day of my existence. And then it happened. Sabi.

In that moment, my previous life literally dissolved like morning mist over a hockey rink. That experience can't be fully described rationally, but every parent knows what I'm talking about. When I held her in my arms for the first time, in that instant the entire universe shrank into that small, fragile being and the beating of her heart. All my previous worries, ambitions, and goals suddenly became trivial. Suddenly I felt the need to be a better person – not to be praised by anyone, but to be a role model for her.

Sabi became my driving force, my personal "aggravating circumstance" to live an active life full of movement and adventure. When she looked at me with those blue eyes, I knew I would never be the same again.

My name is Tom, and this isn't just a story about a man who loves sports. It's a story about a life full of crazy turns, high mountains and deep valleys, which ultimately led me here – to writing these lines that I'm sharing with you today. To writing a blog that is my personal therapy, but also an invitation into my world, where a tiger became a guide and every child became a winner.

Welcome to my blog. I hope my experiences – sometimes amusing, sometimes ironically bitter, but always sincere – bring you as much inspiration as Sabi brings me every day, and still does. Just in a rather different way now.