By Jeff Bell
Image: Deagreez, iStock
I was moved to hear of the AFL star’s loss of joy, through high performance.
Well, not so much the high performance, as the high expectations. He had come to constantly question: “Did I play well today? Are people still going to like me in the club?”
Here was a player who had been named All-Australian 3 times and who had won his club’s fairest and best award 3 times. At season’s end he had sat down with his partner, and when asked to reflect on the season, he had broken down.
He was exhausted by the weight of expectation. The constant feeling of having to prove himself, prove his worth and of not feeling valued if he wasn’t successful.
That is, what he felt were other people’s expectations had become his own.
While he didn’t refer to it directly, I see this as the scourge of hero-worship. Fans crave the hero story. The high performer absorbs the adulation and comes to believe it too.
And let’s face it, we are all raised on this magical thinking. There is an impossible foe, we are victims of that foe—and of our own shortcomings. But hey! A magical person with a super power brings down the foe and delivers a life of happily ever-after.
We may carry this magical thinking into adulthood, leading us to believe that our thoughts alone can bring desired effects or that thinking is the same as doing. This is particularly so in times of inadequacy, uncertainty or danger—our vain attempt to restore order or to satisfy some unfulfilled desire.
The fan also craves to be a hero, hoping to hitch an emotional free ride with the high performer.
But if we do discover that we are still working with rules we made up as an unempowered child, here is the good news. We can drop these fairy tales, these unreal expectations, and make our own rules as a fully functioning, mature, well-adjusted adult.
As a fan, do we rely on the high profile success of others for our own happiness? Can’t we just admire their prowess and leave it at that?
Yes, the fan needs to get a grip.
And what of the high performer feeling responsible for carrying the fans’ expectations?
Realistically, can someone perform at their best with such a weight on their shoulders? Perhaps the fans may intend it as motivation, but for the athlete, delivering their best may not be possible under that burden of expectation. That so many people are heaping reliance on one other, for their own unfulfilled happiness?
I can recall Australia’s 1500m track champion Jessica Hull’s 2024 Paris Olympiad. Before the medal race she was goaded by a smug interviewer—how did it feel to carry the hopes of the nation? But she was having none of it, replying:
“It’s not expectation, it’s an opportunity.”
As a high performer, are we bowing to others’ expectations, or making the most of our opportunities? As we are also a leader, are we providing others with their opportunities for success?
Both performer and fan need to separate the performance from the person:
- A good result is to be appreciated, maybe celebrated and certainly understood. It is not our identity.
- A bad result is merely data. We need to look at the process that brought the result. It is not our identity.
The fan needs to keep their magical thinking within limits. No-one’s performance makes you a better person or solves all your unfulfilled needs and wants. Your fulfilment is your responsibility.
The high performer doesn’t need to buy into the hero-worship hoo-hah. Whatever the performance, it stands alone and doesn’t define you. Medals and awards are given by influential people, fans essentially, seeking reflected glory.
The father of analytical psychology Carl Jung, (1875-1961) said:
“I am not what happened to me, I am what I choose to become.”
We can create our own narrative.
The good news for the AFL star is that he appears to have recovered his joy—letting go of past experiences and achievements, reflecting (with others) and expressing “who I am in this moment”.
He could assert too: I’m not that hero.