#1 ·
I’ve been thinking a lot lately about how incredibly short our collective attention span has become when it comes to watching people grow—whether they are athletes, artists, or even just professionals in a high-stakes industry. It seems like we’ve developed this weird, almost reflexive habit of writing people off the moment they stumble. We see one bad performance, one "off" season, or one public mistake, and suddenly the consensus is that the person is a "bust" or that their time has passed.
It’s like we’ve lost the ability to distinguish between a temporary dip in form and a fundamental lack of talent. We crave instant gratification and instant judgment. If a newcomer enters the arena and doesn't immediately dominate, the vultures start circling. "They aren't ready," "They don't have the mental toughness," "They'll never make it." We jump straight to the "obituary" phase of a career before the person has even had a chance to finish their first chapter.
I remember back in my early twenties, I tried to get into high-level competitive chess. I had a decent run for a few months, felt like I was really finding my rhythm, and then I hit a massive losing streak during a local tournament. I felt like a total failure. I remember thinking, "Well, that's it. I'm clearly not cut out for this." I was ready to pack it all in and tell everyone I was done. But looking back, I was just experiencing the natural growing pains of someone still learning the nuances of the game. If I had listened to that internal critic, I wouldn't have discovered how much I actually enjoyed the strategic depth of it. I would have "retired" before I ever actually learned how to win.
The problem is that in the modern era, this individualistic "failure" is amplified by a massive megaphone. We live in a culture of "hot takes." It’s much easier—and much more clickable—to say someone is a failure than it is to say, "They're struggling right now, but they're showing promise and need time to adjust." The latter doesn't get engagement. The former creates a narrative that people love to jump on.
There’s a massive psychological component to this, too. For the person being criticized, that constant barrage of negativity can actually become a self-fulfilling prophecy. If you are constantly told you don't belong, or that you've already peaked, it becomes incredibly difficult to maintain the psychological resilience required to actually improve. We are essentially punishing people for the very process of learning. Learning *is* a series of failures. You cannot master a skill without a period of looking incompetent.
I find myself wondering what happens to the "lost" talent—the people who actually had immense potential but were mentally broken by the sheer speed of public judgment. How many incredible careers end prematurely because the pressure to be perfect from day one was simply too heavy to bear? We celebrate the legends who had long, steady climbs, but we seem to have zero patience for the jagged, messy upward trajectories that most real success stories actually follow.
I think we need to get better at recognizing the "middle phase" of development. That period where someone is good enough to be in the room, but not yet good enough to stay there consistently. That’s where the real work happens. That's where the grit is built. If we don't give people the space to fail, we aren't actually testing their talent; we're just testing their ability to perform under a microscope.
Is it time we changed how we talk about people in the public eye? Should we be more cautious about declaring someone "finished" until they've had a chance to prove their resilience through a cycle of ups and downs?
It’s like we’ve lost the ability to distinguish between a temporary dip in form and a fundamental lack of talent. We crave instant gratification and instant judgment. If a newcomer enters the arena and doesn't immediately dominate, the vultures start circling. "They aren't ready," "They don't have the mental toughness," "They'll never make it." We jump straight to the "obituary" phase of a career before the person has even had a chance to finish their first chapter.
I remember back in my early twenties, I tried to get into high-level competitive chess. I had a decent run for a few months, felt like I was really finding my rhythm, and then I hit a massive losing streak during a local tournament. I felt like a total failure. I remember thinking, "Well, that's it. I'm clearly not cut out for this." I was ready to pack it all in and tell everyone I was done. But looking back, I was just experiencing the natural growing pains of someone still learning the nuances of the game. If I had listened to that internal critic, I wouldn't have discovered how much I actually enjoyed the strategic depth of it. I would have "retired" before I ever actually learned how to win.
The problem is that in the modern era, this individualistic "failure" is amplified by a massive megaphone. We live in a culture of "hot takes." It’s much easier—and much more clickable—to say someone is a failure than it is to say, "They're struggling right now, but they're showing promise and need time to adjust." The latter doesn't get engagement. The former creates a narrative that people love to jump on.
There’s a massive psychological component to this, too. For the person being criticized, that constant barrage of negativity can actually become a self-fulfilling prophecy. If you are constantly told you don't belong, or that you've already peaked, it becomes incredibly difficult to maintain the psychological resilience required to actually improve. We are essentially punishing people for the very process of learning. Learning *is* a series of failures. You cannot master a skill without a period of looking incompetent.
I find myself wondering what happens to the "lost" talent—the people who actually had immense potential but were mentally broken by the sheer speed of public judgment. How many incredible careers end prematurely because the pressure to be perfect from day one was simply too heavy to bear? We celebrate the legends who had long, steady climbs, but we seem to have zero patience for the jagged, messy upward trajectories that most real success stories actually follow.
I think we need to get better at recognizing the "middle phase" of development. That period where someone is good enough to be in the room, but not yet good enough to stay there consistently. That’s where the real work happens. That's where the grit is built. If we don't give people the space to fail, we aren't actually testing their talent; we're just testing their ability to perform under a microscope.
Is it time we changed how we talk about people in the public eye? Should we be more cautious about declaring someone "finished" until they've had a chance to prove their resilience through a cycle of ups and downs?