Article
Character
Comment
Sport
4 min read

When medal mania strikes

What turns a healthy motivation to excel into a toxic desperation to achieve?

Paul Valler is an executive coach and mentor. He is a former chair of the London Institute for Contemporary Christianity.

A defeat fencer, withour a mask, turns angrily and roars.
Sandro Bazadze loses and loses it.

The brilliance and joy of medalists in the Paris Olympics is incredible to see.   Their discipline and sacrifices in training pay off in mesmerising displays of excellence and moments of pure elation.  Yet for there to be winners, there also must be losers, and there have been revealing moments of crushing disappointment which are never nice to see.  Sadly, Sandro Bazadze, world number one in fencing, could well go down in Olympic history as ‘the distraught loser who lost it’ in a furious rant at the referee as he was eliminated in the last 16 of the men’s sabre.  What is it that makes some people explode like that?  What is it that changes a healthy motivation to excel into a toxic desperation to achieve? What is it that changes a human being who is fully alive into an anxious person, so driven to succeed that they cannot bear to fail?   

That is likely why Bazadze erupted.  When he was denied success, he was denied who he thought he was. 

Few of us will achieve Olympic greatness, or the media recognition that redefines an athlete’s profile by forever linking their name to their achievement.  But we all have an inner tendency to believe that our value is based on what we can achieve.  We live in a culture that continually sends us the message that approval and worth depend on your results.   Many of us believe it, and then fall for a life of continuous intensity - a ‘cycle of grief’ as we fiercely strive for results, but mourn the loss of our inner peace.  And this cultural message of acceptance through achievement becomes really toxic when we begin to believe the lie that our identity is based on our performance.  That is likely why Bazadze erupted.  When he was denied success, he was denied who he thought he was.   “The referees have killed me”, he exclaimed. 

It’s not just athletes who are at risk from this.  Think about how our education system sends the same message about grades.  Thousands of teenagers suffer anxiety and mental illness as they face exams, because they believe their self-worth depends on their marks.  As GCSE results are published this month, thousands will be congratulated, but some will become depressed from failure.   

I know many workplaces where ‘performance management’ has become so oppressive that it leads to drivenness, perfectionism and burnout.  Even retirees can feel driven to complete their ‘bucket list’ before they die or become infirm.  So, people in all walks of life easily become addicted to the treadmill of ‘performance-based living’ and feel tired, trapped and troubled.  Labouring under the false belief that self-respect depends on achievement.   If you believe that, you cannot fail or even be ill without feeling deficient.    

There is a deep peace in that.  A freedom and resilience that makes it possible to compete without fear of failure. 

There is a better way.  We can choose to renounce that pernicious lie of a performance identity and affirm the deep truth that our real identity and significance is found in who we are as God’s much-loved children.  We can anchor our emotions in the security of that true identity.  If Bazadze had really understood and internalised this, he would still have been disappointed with the judges decision, but not destroyed by it.   

It is possible to decide to face up to the mania for results and our culture of continuous intensity.  That is what Sabbath is about – an act of resistance against a world dominated by the need for success.  God knows we need a break, not only to rest, but to recentre our hearts and minds on the truth.  We are loved unconditionally and don’t need to strive to achieve in order to be accepted and significant to God.  There is a deep peace in that.  A freedom and resilience that makes it possible to compete without fear of failure.  In the Bible, the word excellence is never applied to achievement, only to character, and the most excellent way is defined as love.  The Christian worldview celebrates great performance, but avoids making an idol of it, because that leads to a destructive obsession and to insecurity. 

Being secure in God is not about avoiding competition or pressure.   It is learning to pursue outstanding attainment free from any sense of our identity being stolen by our grades, or jobs, or whether other people approve of us or award us medals.  Top quality performance is superb and we should give our best with all our heart whatever we do.  But God is a God of grace, who loves, accepts and dignifies everyone unconditionally,  including those who didn’t even qualify for the Olympics, just as much as those who were on the rostrum.   

Column
Comment
Conspiracy theory
Football
Sport
5 min read

Football in the age of conspiracy theory

More politics in football is driving distrust and mis-information
A football support protest banner depicts The Muppet Show logo, a meeting of men in suits and various slogans.
A Manchester City supporters' protest banner.
r/MCFC.

In 2008, Manchester United sign footballers Fábio da Silva and Raphael da Silva. They are twin brothers. Confusion follows. In 2009, referee Chris Foy seems to show a yellow card to Fábio for a foul committed by Rafael in a game against Barnsley. I’m still not sure who actually makes the tackle.  

Then-manager of the club Sir Alex Ferguson admitted he often confused the two players. When Rafael was suspended for a game, Ferguson joked about playing him anyway, and just saying it was Fábio. “They wouldn’t know. Their DNA is probably the same,” he said. 

Perhaps that’s how the rumour started.  

Football is a game of small margins; minor gains can make for huge advantages. Few managers have understood this as well as Ferguson, a man who would do anything to make the most of marginal gains. Up to and including ‘bending’ the rules a little, if needs be. (Allegedly; if the lawyers are reading).  

It’s perhaps not unsurprising, then, that there is an old conspiracy theory that Ferguson would swap the brothers at half-time to get an extra substitution. “They wouldn’t know. Their DNA is probably the same.” It’s the kind of thing Ferguson would do.  

Allegedly. 

Conspiracies have a long history: the earth is flat; Paul McCartney died in 1966; pigeons are actually government CCTV cameras.  

I love weird footballing conspiracy theories. They’re ultimately harmless, and so implausible that they make me chuckle. But recently, it feels as though there’s been a sharp upturn in the amount of conspiratorial thinking surrounding football’s public discourse.  

Everything is a conspiracy now; all 20 premier league clubs seem to be the alleged victims of some conspiracy or other to stop them from winning the title. At least one of them is proved wrong each year.  

Every red card, disallowed goal, throw-in, and foul is now viewed as yet another part of the establishment’s ongoing plan to sabotage your club. Why they’d want to sabotage your club in particular is never made manifestly clear. That’s besides the point. The plan is obvious enough if you look for it; never mind the motivation. 

Football doesn’t help itself at times. For example, the decision to allow Manchester-based referees to referee Manchester-based football teams is simply baffling (and, as is often overlooked, simply unfair on the referees who then have their integrity called into question).  

It’s now public knowledge that Michael Oliver earned considerable money refereeing private games in the United Arab Emirates. And so, when he failed to send off Manchester City’s Mateo Kovačić for two seemingly nailed-on second yellows in a game against Arsenal on 8th October 2023, you can forgive people for joining the dots and making the connection to City’s UAE owners. 

Even when there’s no grand conspiracy, giving people a reasonable excuse to crack out the tin foil is just dumb. 

Of course, none of this is unique to football. Conspiracies have a long history: the earth is flat; Paul McCartney died in 1966; pigeons are actually government CCTV cameras. All the hits. Again, a lot of them are just comically harmless.  

The ship has sailed, and as long as football remains a political plaything, the same distrust in our political authorities will lead to distrust in our footballing authorities. 

But many aren’t, and these more malignant conspiracy theories seem to be becoming more prevalent and more dangerous. America saw an unprecedented attack on its democratic processes and institutions on January 6 2021; at the hands of its still-technically-then-President, no less. Allegedly. Elsewhere, numerous people declined the Covid-19 vaccination because of misinformation about its effects, a worrying repeat of the vaccines-cause-autism nonsense of the 1990s.  

In the aftermath of the horrific murder of three young girls in Southport on 30th July 2024, numerous people wrongly identified a Muslim immigrant as the alleged attacker. This led to widespread riots across the UK involving attacks on mosques and asylum seeker accommodation. As I write this from my home in Liverpool, a community library down the road is still waiting to be reopened after it was burned down amidst claims it was giving Qur’ans to children. It was not.  

Nigel Farage still refuses to apologise for claiming ‘the truth’ was being withheld from the public. 

But the thing is some conspiracies turn out to be true. There was a conspiracy involving the state and South Yorkshire Police to blame fans at the Hillsborough disaster in 1989 for the death of (now) 97 people at the match; that is now undeniable. And the times when conspiracy theories turn out to be accurate only serve to enflame and empower the others. 

Conspiracy theories kill people. And so, it seems distasteful to draw any sort of line from using twins to mask extra substitutions to terrorist rioting in the aftermath of three young girls being stabbed to death. But, these are two extremes of the same kind of behaviour made possible for the same reason: declining trust in established authorities.  

This is not to say we need to ‘keep politics out of football’. That’s not possible, even if we wanted to. It will always seem disingenuous to me that the same people who were against football players taking the knee in support of Black Lives Matter also seem very happy to sing the English national anthem at the FA Cup final. You can’t have politics when its suits you; when it’s comfortable for you. 

No; football is a political entity now, whether you like it or not. MPs performatively support the England national team during major tournaments to win votes; The UK government is seeking to introduce an independent football regulator; Prince William is president of the FA; Nation-states own football clubs. Allegedly. 

The ship has sailed, and as long as football remains a political plaything, the same distrust in our political authorities will lead to distrust in our footballing authorities.  

But the inverse is true now, too. Football’s pervasive presence in society offers an opportunity for football fans to be the best of us; to model a culture wherein institutional authorities are trusted and – more importantly – deserve to be trusted.  

If I’m being honest, whether I’m watching it on the telly or in the ground, I am often at my least Christ-like when the football’s on. There I am: accusing the referee of all sorts, calling the linesman any manner of unspeakable things because he gave a throw-in to the opposition, even if it’s the right decision. There I am: contributing to the very culture of distrust that characterises so much of public life nowadays.  

I have, I think, a genuinely ethical responsibility to stop behaving like that when watching the football. It won’t stop idiots from rioting, and it won't stop Donald Trump and Nigel Farage from lying. Allegedly. But it might just help contribute to a culture wherein those acts are increasingly harder to commit. A culture where trust and hope become genuine options again.