How Athletes Struggle With an Achievement-Centered View of Personal Value
This post is part two of a series on the struggles of recovering athletes.
In my last post, I talked about the loss of meaning, purpose, and sense of self that often plagues athletes upon their retirement. Existential crises and identity crises are two of the central topics we tackle in philosophical counseling as we work to understand the beliefs and values that took center stage in the athlete’s competitive life, as well as the structures of power that were at work in that life, and what it might mean to develop a new future on the athlete’s own terms.
In this post, I consider another common theme of struggle for recovering athletes: the notion that their personal value is based on their achievements. I admit that I continue to be surprised by how similar athletes’ stories are — about the training environments in which they grew up, the ideologies handed down, and the coaching methods — across different sports and different competitive levels (from intermediate to elite). I’m writing these posts for athletes out there (current or retired) who might be suffering, feeling alone and confused, and lacking someone to talk to who can validate their experience. These posts are also for friends and family members of athletes who may not understand the kind of crisis their loved one is going through, even into their retirement, as they deal with big questions surrounding success, identity, purpose, self-worth, and autonomy. And finally, these posts are for coaches who want to create culture change in sports. I know you are out there. This, my friends, is why we need to make things better.
An Achievement-Centered View of Personal Value
One of the first things that emerges in conversations with athletes when we’re talking about what’s most important in their lives is their sense that their own personal value as a human being is based on their wins, medals, or records. And this is precisely the root of one of the big crises of retirement. They worry: If I’m not winning anymore, what am I worth? What’s the point of my life? Why would anyone care about me? There’s nothing about me that’s special anymore.
As they explain this state of mind, athletes often tell stories of childhood coaches (and sometimes parents as well) who only praised them for their achievements and were hyper-critical of them for every mistake. There was a conditional nature to the attention they were given growing up — sending the message that it is not who they are but what they do (and more specifically, the results of what they do in comparison to others) — that is most important. Athletes internalize this message and adopt the notion that they are only worthy as people, only worthy of love, when they win. Thus, they are stuck in the unstable and anxious predicament of having their worth rise and fall with the chaos of outcomes that are in large part outside of their control.
When asked about other potential sources of personal value, like their thoughts, feelings, aspirations, perspectives, personality, creativity, character, courage, work ethic, way of being a friend, or just their unique and irreplaceable way of being themselves, many athletes say that those things were really not recognized, not considered interesting, or worse – they were silenced. “We didn’t really have a voice. There was not a chance to express an opinion about anything or make any of our own choices. We could only speak when spoken to, and only to show obedience.” “We weren’t allowed to smile or laugh – that meant that we weren’t paying attention or we were being lazy.” “Nobody really knew me. Anything that was ‘me’ was pushed down.”
What mattered to coaches (and often parents) was performance: serving the goals and reputation of the team, fulfilling expectations of glory, and getting results. The focus was on the destination, not the journey… and certainly not who was on that journey. Athletes were considered worthwhile in terms of their function on the team and continually under threat of being discarded if they did not fulfill that function. This was expressed in the popular coach’s mantra: “If you can’t get results, there are plenty of people waiting in line to take your place on the team.”
Treating Humans as “Mere Means to an End”
In discussions of ethics, philosophers might put it this way: Athletes were being treated as mere “means to an end.” That means they were being treated merely as “instrumentally valuable,” rather than as “intrinsically valuable.” They were being used as mere tools to fulfill some other goal deemed more important than they were — more important than their own humanity. This is identified as a failure of morality in Immanuel Kant’s philosophy, in which he states that morality demands that we treat and respect human beings as entities of absolute worth, as “ends in themselves,” not merely as instruments for some further purpose. It is, thus, a moral imperative that we: “Act in such a way that you treat humanity, whether in your own person or in the person of another always at the same time as an end and never simply as a means” (Kant, Grounding for the Metaphysics of Morals, p. 428). These athletes, in being treated as “mere means to an end,” were treated as things, objects, or performance machines, not as people who are precious in their own right, whose well-being (mental, physical, spiritual) matters first and foremost, and who have a right to their own autonomy (i.e., who are free, self-governing individuals who have the right to control their own thinking, judgments, actions, and pursuits). Athlete activists have begun to make this point in their calls to recognize and respect the athlete as a person, and to put the person before medals.
Effects on Athletes’ Sense of Self-Esteem
The kind of treatment of young human beings that runs rampant in the culture of competitive sports has deeply damaging effects on athletes’ self-esteem. If the athlete who is treated as only instrumentally valuable does not win, or makes a mistake, they feel worthless and like they have failed as a person.
You’d think that the other side of the coin of this mindset (that mistakes and losses mean personal failure) would be that they would feel joy, self-affirmation, and triumph when they succeeded at making a correction or performing better than the competition. But actually (and I admit that this surprised me), even gold-medal winners confess that there were times that they couldn’t even enjoy their win. They sensed it was only temporary, and they were never “good enough” to please others and fulfill their expectations. Even with their win, criticisms kept streaming in: They weren’t thin enough. They hesitated on that one move. They gave their competition too much leeway. They better not make the same mistake next time.
When You’re Being Treated as a Means to an End, the End Never Comes
Consider what this says about “being treated as a means to an end.” You may think: “Well, ok, maybe I’m going to be used (and use myself) to achieve this really important goal, but when the ‘end’ comes and the goal is achieved, everyone will be so happy with me that I’ll be valued for who I am. I’ll be respected as a whole person. People will love me for me!” But that’s not what happens. Athletes explain very clearly that once the big “achievement” is reached, they are not suddenly appreciated for who they are. They are either discarded by those who got what they wanted, so they can turn their attention to the next athlete from whom they hope to extract a winning performance, or it’s back to the gym to start the cycle all over again. It’s back to being a tool to fulfill the next goal that’s deemed “the most important thing.”
There’s an important lesson here: Being treated as a means to an end has no end. Once someone decides they can treat you as a tool, they will continue to do so till they’ve worn you out and used you up. (It doesn’t just happen in sports. Alienated clients tell the same story about their lives in business, in the military, in academics, in the arts and entertainment industry — and pretty much anywhere you can find exploitation). And when you internalize and accept the message (that you’re only worthwhile as a tool to fulfill some external goal), you end up treating yourself that way as well. You become willing to sacrifice yourself, your body, your mental and physical well-being, and your autonomy on the altar of some golden trophy (or profit, or prize, or publication). Because that’s all you’re good for. Because it’s the trophy that matters, not you. Because it’s the trophy that they love. Maybe it’s the trophy that even you have come to love over and above yourself.
After retirement, athletes who grew up in such an achievement-focused culture often become hyper-comparative and competitive over the littlest details of day-to-day life. They seek out new ways to play out the drama of winning. They might, for instance, be unable to stop sizing themselves up against those around them (even over mundane things), or feel paralyzing embarrassment if they think they might appear “less than” their peers when trying something new. They may have difficulty building friendships based on care, love, and trust, because they cannot stop critically comparing themselves, worrying that everyone is judging them, and feeling the need to come out “on top” to earn their personal worth. They may seek out a coach-surrogate (perhaps an academic advisor, a boss, or a romantic partner) whose attention is dependent on their achievements, so they can continue the familiar quest for their praise. They may lose their general ability to relax, play, enjoy themselves, or just be without needing to stand out as “the best” at something. Their sense of self-worth rises and falls with the roller-coaster of comparisons to others, the results of competitions (informal and formal, real and imagined), and the opinions of others.
There’s Another Way
In my conversations with athletes, I often ask them to imagine a different training situation: one in which they feel cared for and valued, regardless of whether they win or not. I ask them to describe what that might look like. Some have to depend on pure imagination because they have never experienced anything like that. But some are able to draw on memories of a coach they once had who they could tell enjoyed working with them (regardless of competitive results), helped them, and showed kindness and interest in them regardless of how their performance turned out.
One client spoke of a coach that she and her teammates truly respected. She made the helpful distinction between respecting your coach and fearing your coach. Fear is a response to feeling out of control. Fear is how you respond when you don’t know what might happen if the coach isn’t “pleased” by your results. Fear is something you feel when you don’t think the coach can really see you. Fear is not something you feel willingly. Respect is something you give to another on purpose, freely. Respect is reciprocal: It’s easy to respect a coach who you can tell respects you. They care about you and are proud of you when you work hard and support your teammates, even if you don’t win. They are concerned if you are injured or exhausted. They teach effectively and talk with you (not at you) to see if you have questions or concerns. They give good advice not only about how to do things physically, but how to think about things. They come up with alternatives when you’re struggling or something just isn’t working for you. You feel like you can talk to them and they will listen, believe you, and problem solve with you. They include you in decision making. They can still be very tough in the sense of putting you through a hard workout. But they tell you why they’ve selected the training plan of the day. It’s not a punishment, it’s a way to help the team become stronger. It’s a challenge, and the team feels motivated to do it because they trust their coach — not because they are afraid.
When I imagine a coach who values athletes as human beings (and not just as instruments), I imagine someone who sees athletes as complex persons and, if they are not yet adults, as autonomous individuals in the making. This coach sees athletes as having their own futures, their own thoughts, feelings, and values, and their own abilities to make choices and goals. They are on their way to becoming their own authentic selves. This coach sees sport as a part of these athletes’ journey and an opportunity to become stronger, learn about work ethic, courage, and integrity, and build reciprocal relationships of respect, care, and trust. Sport is also a chance for athletes to learn to deliberate, communicate, and collaborate. In other words, sport serves life, not the other way around. Sport is here to enrich humanity; humanity is not to be sacrificed for sport. This coach knows he/she is there in a leadership position to help these athletes grow, to lift them up, share wisdom, and learn a thing or two from the athletes as well. This coach is not motivated to acquire power by controlling others. They want to cultivate free people, not rule over slaves. This coach knows that athletes don’t exist to please him/her. They exist for themselves. Their lives are their own. This coach knows that the people involved in sport are more precious than any fame, profit, or reward they might (or might not) win along the way. This coach sees the process of working together, appreciating each other, empowering each other, and learning from each other as its own reward.
