Mindset: The New Psychology of Success

the famous appetites and a giant stomach bulging out of his Yankee uniform. Wow, doesn’t that make him even more of a natural? Didn’t he just carouse all night and then kind of saunter to the plate the next day and punch out home runs?

The Babe was not a natural, either. At the beginning of his professional career, Babe Ruth was not that good a hitter. He had a lot of power, power that came from his total commitment each time he swung the bat. When he connected, it was breathtaking, but he was highly inconsistent.

It’s true that he could consume astounding amounts of liquor and unheard-of amounts of food. After a huge meal, he could eat one or more whole pies for dessert. But he could also discipline himself when he had to. Many winters, he worked out the entire off-season at the gym to become more fit. In fact, after the 1925 season, when it looked as though he was washed up, he really committed himself to getting in shape, and it worked. From 1926 through 1931, he batted .354, averaging 50 home runs a year and 155 runs batted in. Robert Creamer, his biographer, says, “Ruth put on the finest display of sustained hitting that baseball has ever seen.… From the ashes of 1925, Babe Ruth rose like a rocket.” Through discipline.

He also loved to practice. In fact, when he joined the Boston Red Sox, the veterans resented him for wanting to take batting practice every day. He wasn’t just a rookie; he was a rookie pitcher. Who did he think he was, trying to take batting practice? One time, later in his career, he was disciplined and was banned from a game. Thas one thing. But they wouldn’t let him practice, either, and that really hurt.

Ty Cobb argued that being a pitcher helped Ruth develop his hitting. Why would being a pitcher help his batting? “He could experiment at the plate,” Cobb said. “No one cares much if a pitcher strikes out or looks bad at bat, so Ruth could take that big swing. If he missed, it didn’t matter.… As time went on, he learned more and more about how to control that big swing and put the wood on the ball. By the time he became a fulltime outfielder, he was ready.”

Yet we cling fast to what Stephen Jay Gould calls “the common view that ballplayers are hunks of meat, naturally and effortlessly displaying the talents that nature provided.”

The Fastest Women on Earth

What about Wilma Rudolph, hailed as the fastest woman on earth after she won three gold medals for sprints and relay in the 1960 Rome Olympics? She was far from a physical wonder as a youngster. She was a premature baby, the twentieth of twenty-two children born to her parents, and a constantly sick child. At four years of age, she nearly died of a long struggle with double pneumonia, scarlet fever, and polio(!), emerging with a mostly paralyzed left leg. Doctors gave her little hope of ever using it again. For eight years, she vigorously pursued physical therapy, until at age twelve she shed her leg brace and began to walk normally.

If this wasn’t a lesson that physical skills could be developed, what was? She immediately went and applied that lesson to basketball and track, although she lost every race she entered in her first official track meet. After her incredible career, she said, “I just want to be remembered as a hardworking lady.”

What about Jackie Joyner-Kersee, hailed as the greatest female athlete of all time? Between 1985 and the beginning of 1996, she won every heptathlon she competed in. What exactly is a heptathlon? It’s a grueling two- day, seven-part event consisting of a 100-meter hurdles race, the high jump, the javelin throw, a 200-meter sprint, the long jump, the shotput, and an 800-meter run. No wonder the winner gets to be called the best female athlete in the world. Along the way, Joyner-Kersee earned the six highest scores in the history of the sport, set world records, and won two world championships as well as two Olympic gold medals (six if we count the ones in other events).

Was she a natural? Talent she had, but when she started track, she finished in last place for quite some time. The longer she worked, the faster she got, but she still didn’t win any races. Finally, she began to win. What changed? “Some might attribute my transformation to the laws of heredity.… But I think it was my reward for all those hours of work on the bridle path, the neighborhood sidewalks and the schoolhouse corridors.”

Sharing the secret of her continued success, she says, “There is something about seeing myself improve that motivates and excites me. It’s that way now, after six Olympic medals and five world records. And it was the way I was in junior high, just starting to enter track meets.”

Her last two medals (a world-championship and an Olympic medal) came during an asthma attack and a severe, painful hamstring injury. It was not natural talent taking its course. It was mindset having its say.

Naturals Shouldn’t Need Effort

Did you know there was once a strong belief tha you couldn’t physically train for golf, and that if you built your strength you would lose your “touch”? Until Tiger Woods came along with his workout regimes and fierce practice habits and won every tournament there was to win.

In some cultures, people who tried to go beyond their natural talent through training received sharp disapproval. You were supposed to accept your station in life. These cultures would have hated Maury Wills. Wills was an eager baseball player in the 1950s and ’60s with a dream to be a major leaguer. His problem was that his hitting wasn’t good enough, so when the Dodgers signed him, they sent him down to the minor leagues. He proudly announced to his friends, “In two years, I’m going to be in Brooklyn playing with Jackie Robinson.”

He was wrong. Despite his optimistic prediction and grueling daily practice, he languished in the minors for eight and a half years. At the seven-and-a-half-year mark, the team manager made a batting suggestion, telling Wills, “You’re in a seven-and-a-half-year slump, you have nothing to lose.” Shortly thereafter, when the Dodger shortstop broke his toe, Wills was called up. He had his chance.

His batting was still not good enough. Not ready to give up, he went to the first- base coach for help; they worked together several hours a day aside from Wills’s regular practice. Still not good enough. Even the gritty Wills was now ready to quit, but the first-base coach refused to let him. Now that the mechanics were in place, Wills needed work on his mind.

He began to hit—and, with his great speed, he began to steal bases. He studied the throws of the opposing pitchers and catchers, figuring out the best moment to steal a base. He developed sudden, powerful takeoffs and effective slides. His stealing began to distract the pitchers, throw off the catchers, and thrill the fans. Wills went on to break Ty Cobb’s record for stolen bases, a record unchallenged for forty-seven years. That season, he was voted the most valuable player in the National League.

Sports IQ

You would think the sports world would have to see the relation between practice and improvement—and between the mind and performance—and stop harping so much on innate physical talent. Yet it’s almost as if they refuse to see. Perhaps it’s because, as Malcolm Gladwell suggests, people prize natural endowment over earned ability. As much as our culture talks about individual effort and self-improvement, deep down, he argues, we revere the naturals. We like to think of our champions and idols as superheroes who were born different from us. We don’t like to think of them as relatively ordinary people who made themselves extraordinary. Why not? To me that is so much more amazing.

Even when experts are willing to recognize the role of the mind, they continue to insist that it’s all innate!

This really hit me when I came upon an article about Marshall Faulk, the great running back for the St. Louis Rams football team. Faulk had just become the first player to gain a combined two thousand rushing and receiving yards in four consecutive seasons.

The article, written on the eve of the 2002 Super Bowl, talked about Faulk’s uncanny skill at knowing where every player on the field is, even in the swirling chaos of twenty-two running and falling players. He not only knows where they are, but he also knows what they are doing, and what they are about to do. According to his teammates, he’s never wrong.

Incedible. How does he do it? As Faulk tells it, he spent years and years watching football. In high school he even got a job as a ballpark vendor, which he hated, in order to watch pro football. As he watched, he was always asking the question Why?: “Why are we running this play?” “Why are we attacking it this way?” “Why are they doing that?” “Why are they doing this?” “That question,” Faulk says, “basically got me involved in football in a more in-depth way.” As a pro, he never stopped asking why and probing deeper into the workings of the game.