I read a report the other day about sprinter Noah Lyles with the following quote from him in the headline: “In the United States, we have a winning mentality, and, unfortunately, that’s good and bad.”
The article was about the Netflix documentary series “Sprint”, featuring behind-the-scenes looks at track and field stars. The second season premiered and shows the Paris Olympic Games, where the American won the 100 m final in a race so competitive that it was decided in the “photo finish”. As I always thought Lyles was a bit stuck up, I was never interested in watching the series. But I found the phrase extremely intriguing if we think about professional sports and our lives as well. I started researching it and reviewed my concepts. I was positively surprised.
This “winning mentality” is obviously fundamental in sport. There are countless studies linking high self-esteem and performance. And in this the Americans are experts. No wonder. They start early: they encourage sports in childhood, offering places at universities for young athletes, who then compete in huge, packed stadiums. They are not old enough to drive or drink beer, but they gain legions of fans, learn to deal with the press and the pressure of competing, and acquire a lot of confidence.
When they reach a high level, such as at the Olympic Games, in addition to having built the foundation of their career with an excellent sporting infrastructure, they have a psychological preparation that makes them almost unbeatable. And there is so much talent available that the system filters out the best, those who are most physically and mentally ready.
Showing confidence, even if it is sometimes a facade, is part of the athlete’s strategy and part of the game, because it makes the opponent afraid. When tennis player Naomi Osaka started talking frequently about her mental health, I thought it was commendable, but at the same time, a big deal for her rivals.
The report doesn’t say what the “bad part” was, but it can be deduced. Before the Tokyo Olympic Games, postponed from 2020 to 2021 because of the pandemic, Lyles confessed that his depression had worsened due to the pressure and isolation. He ended up winning bronze in Japan in the 200 m dash.
Ironically, on the eve of the same final in Paris, he contracted Covid-19 beforehand and competed in the race anyway. He was criticized for this, of course, rightly so.
In an interview before competing, he stated that he knows the line between confidence and arrogance is blurred, but that, for much of his life, many told him he wouldn’t get anywhere. He grew up with asthma, had difficulties at school, went to therapy, saw that he was good at what he did, his self-esteem increased, and you can see how he managed to transform the pressure into something positive.
When he won the 100 m dash in August, he wrote the tweet: “I have asthma, allergies, dyslexia, attention deficit disorder, anxiety and depression. But I say that what you have does not define who you will become” .
Lyles could have just reaped the laurels of victory, but, again, he made a point of showing that the journey is not always perfect.
We often hide our weaknesses in the workplace, within our homes, for fear of being seen as incapable. We try to be perfect all the time. But if even the fastest man in the world can be vulnerable, why can’t we?
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