Impostor Syndrome: Am I a fraud?

Impostor Syndrome (also known as impostor phenomenon or fraud syndrome) is a concept describing high-achieving individuals who are marked by an inability to internalise their accomplishments and a persistent fear of being exposed as a "fraud."

 

"Hi there! Welcome to my park!"

Impostor syndrome is not like the time Rizzo the Rat dressed up as Mickey Mouse. Rizzo was an obvious impostor. It was a clever attempt by the muppet to deceive us into believing he was Mickey, but most of us quickly saw through his disguise. Rizzo knew he was not Mickey, and was not being employed as a mouse. Rizzo wasn't afraid of being found out, as his livelihood did not depend on the position of Mickey. Rizzo hadn't gone to mouse school. Rizzo was knowingly deceiving the audience. He was a con-man. Those that suffer with impostor syndrome, and I would include myself in this, find themselves in positions that they don't feel equipped for. Inwardly, they fee out of their depth, even though outwardly, it may appear that they are of a high level of competence and confidence. It's not that other's think you're a fraud; it's that you do.

The Impostor Syndrome

Let's get this straight; those with impostor syndrome are not frauds. Not by any measure. They have not conned their way into their positions. They are there on merit. They are there because they deserve to be. These are people with skill, talent, passion, and drive, who are good at what they do, that can sometimes be overcome with self-doubt. Modern "musicians" are frauds. They use autotune, a team of writers, and really strain forced emotion into their voices, to make the listener believe that it means something to them (Mariah Carey for example). Elton John agrees with me.

The key difference is that music can be subjective, relying on opinion, whereas football, is objective. You may have an opinion, but ultimately there is a winner and a loser. In football, coaches do what they can to make their team to be more effective, to get better results, and climb up the league table. They can't be frauds. A team may look good in training, but if it's all for show, they will be found out. The quality of the other team will become evident in the match as they destroy the posers. In music, which relies on opinions, it's different. We know opinions can be manipulated. I've lost count of the times I've done more than ten keep-ups (my record is twelve) and impressed a kid from America or Canada. They come from environments where no one can do that. Alas, they are uneducated. So I come along with my ten juggles and look like a god. Someone who knows nothing about music can easily be fooled by a catchy, perfect pop song.

Music used to be from the heart. Now it's an advertising campaign. Bands didn't need to sell fragrances or have their own clothing lines. The whole point of music was, as Jack Black reminds us, was to stick it to the man. Nowadays, these... well they're not musicians as they don't play instruments or write music... karaoke singers? Nowadays, these karaoke singers earn millions, and they are THE MAN. Case in point, Gangnam Style has 2.4 billion views on YouTube, meanwhile, Bohemian Rhapsody has 360 million. Rhianna has had 13 number one hit singles, while Led Zeppelin had zero. Glee has more chart toppers than The Beatles (surely we need a purge, right?). That's because modern music is aimed at the average teenage girl, and teenage boys pretend to like it to impress teenage girls.

It's by the time that kids reach adolescence that they start to be influenced by the world and looking for an identity. This is when they become easily influenced. What happens if we get to them before they can be influenced? Check and see AC/DC versus One Direction. And then throw Justin Bieber into the mix too. You might be sick.

Kids react to Angus and the gang.

"Tonight let's get some and live while we're young" what do you think they mean?
Some what? Pancakes? McNuggets?

Here's some teenagers reacting to a castrated Canadian. You will be ashamed to be human.

This guy actually gets it. I genuinely think every female singer nowadays is Rhianna.

If you want to cleanse your mind of terrible music, turn the lights off and listen to Pink Floyd.

They didn't need to be promoted as sex
symbols. Their music was good.

The reactions were positive to both (as kids can be easily manipulated and impressed, just try the thumb removal trick). What got me was that although the reactions were positive, it's what they admired and why. The kids actually liked AC/DC for the sounds they were making. That's what music is, right? Sure, some fans swooned over Bon Scott, but he wasn't promoted as a sex symbol like Bieber and Harry Styles. The fact that the three of them are equally weird looking means nothing. The fact that Bon Scott had talent and personality, where as Bieber and Styles don't, also means nothing. And for any teenagers that may want to jump in here and say that Bieber and Styles obviously do have talent, no, they don't. The actually don't. I am saying this as a musician, and as someone who has made a career out of talent development. Most humans, with just a little bit of work, could perform to their level. It's just like the guy said in the video when he talked about McDonald's. Teenagers love McNuggets because that's all they're exposed to. Just like my ten keep-ups, a guy that knows three chords on the guitar seems like a genius to a novice. A singer that has been polished by autotune and sings lines carefully selected by a committee, seems like a god to someone who has never even attempted to play the triangle. You've been duped. You've been conned. They are frauds.

Now that we know who the real frauds are, let's move back to those who aren't frauds, but feel like frauds. Musicians are competing for Instagram followers, whereas footballers are competing for points. Every good musician was their own biggest critic. Many often hated their work and suffered from depression. Do you think Pitbull is even capable of thinking about his "work" like that? In here we encounter a paradox. I tell my players that they need to be their own biggest critic, but also their own biggest fan. We need to believe in ourselves so much that our confidence becomes delusion. This is because the chances of reaching the top are so slim, the only way we can keep working hard and persevering towards our goals is if we disregard the chance of failure. Yet, this could be our poison. It's when confidence turns to cockiness. When we are above criticism. When we start to term those with negative opinions as "haters." Some people who say things you don't like are doing it because they just aren't very nice people. but we must also remember that we need to keep evaluating and assessing our own performances. Flaws can pop up at any time. Ignoring them will leave them to gain traction, and then they can become debilitating.

Remember that awful song Sex On Fire? How pop loving sheep nearly ruined a good band.

It becomes a difficult battle to keep wrestling with these nagging voices. Often when you see athletes snarling and gritting their teeth, it's because they are internally shouting down the voices in their heads that are telling them they can't. Those that quit convey disappointment, knowing that they could have done much better. Champions sweat. Champions are made in gyms when no one is watching.

Excellent Ted Talk on the subject.

Sufferers of impostor syndrome suffer from four major components:

1. Anxiety. This is something that I rarely feel. Anxiety and nerves do not frequent my emotional centre. Whether that's because I'm cool or a sociopath is a discussion for another time. The anxiety can come from the pressure, either perceived or real, internal or external. Top coaches often report problems sleeping the night before a game, as well as pacing up and down, and sticking to almost religious routines. They scrutinise every detail, and worry about so many things going wrong. It can become a real problem and inhibit performance. A little bit of anxiety can keep one sharp.

2. Perfectionism. It can be linked to anxiety, as perfectionism is often a self-inflicted standard. I do have perfectionism, but not in a way that makes me shake or become aggressive. Part of that is learning which battles are more important, and then only focusing on them. If you've got the time, energy, and resources to win a certain battle, and it is important in the grand picture of the outcome, then win that battle. For me, it comes from high standards. Admittedly, you can't have it in every area of your life. You'd be fighting too many battles. I think you can only achieve perfectionism in every area of your life with military training as it builds and ingrains habits. As I have learnt more about coaching and high performance, my standards have become much higher. I go back over my lines of cones again. I make sure the goals are lined-up to the inch. I can regularly be seen readjusting a cone or a goal throughout a session, nudging it an inch. If it's not actually a big deal, leave it alone. I always make sure I've got a session plan, notes, or a board drawn up. Usually two out of three, rarely three out of three (what would be the point if they take care of the same thing?) I have more equipment than I need because I want options, which allow my sessions to be varied and interesting, I make sure my bibs and cones are stored in colour order in my bag. Is that perfectionism, or just good organisational skills?

3. Self-doubt. This is a big one. Probably the biggest of the four, and the largest contributor to the syndrome. I am someone that has failed many times. I've failed hard. I've failed embarrassingly. Am I the only one? Of course not, but it feels like it. Most of us have been in a situation where we've been a witness to a conversation about something embarrassing, and little did the speakers know, such a situation actually applied to us. We might silently nod, while concealing the shame. I've heard coaches mock coaches that failed their level two. I failed mine. I have heard many people say that degrees and A levels are easy and that only idiots fail. Again, I've done both. And I agree with the sentiment. I failed because I acted like an idiot, not because I truly am one. Though I doubt in all my years of recounting the story of how a friend of mine once used condoms on his fingers that I have ever told that to someone else who has done it. No one can be that stupid, right? Top coaches believe in themselves, yet are well aware of their flaws. It's those that can't admit their flaws that you need to be aware of. It's those that can't admit their flaws that often have the most obvious ones.

4. Fear of failure. For this one we need to make a distinction. No one wants to fail. If it's a choice between winning and losing, with zero other factors, we will choose to win. If it's a choice between hard work and no guarantee of winning, or easy work and no guarantee of winning, that's when we begin to see someone's makeup. The price they pay to win tells us everything we need to know. Humans are loss averse, meaning that we often take the route that avoids failure, rather than seeking out the one that leads to success. Depending upon the metric, success and failure aren't always binary. Coming 17th out of 20 means you avoid relegation (success) but that you finish really far away from being champions (failure). Real fear of failure, not just a dislike of failure, can be crippling. It can also be the largest motivating factor that a person needs. If you're scared that others will think you are stupid, you have two options; don't try, or prepare so well that success becomes a highly likely possibility. Which will you choose? When livelihoods, fans, public opinion, trophies, legacies, hopes of nations, and relationships depend upon success (or avoiding failure) the best do whatever they can to win. And those that can't handle the heat, get out of the kitchen.

Have you ever said to yourself in your head "I don't deserve to be here?" I'm not talking about the time my girlfriend dragged me to a Simple Plan concert (all the way in France, after a five hour drive and a punctured tyre, that concert was my reward), considering I had taken her to see Kaiser Chiefs, Franz Ferdinand, Status Quo, and later AC/DC. I'm also a decent boyfriend. I didn't deserve to be exposed to such music. That wasn't fair. Middle aged men from the suburbs of Montreal whining about how hard it is to be a teenager... Not all music is timeless.

Anyway. I don't deserve to be here is a feeling many of us will have had at some point or another. It's not always if you're new or inexperienced. If you're at the bottom of the ladder, often there is little or no expectation on you. I went to a CPD event for B and A license coached at Brighton's academy facilities before I had obtained the B license. There was only one other level 2 coach there. I knew I was the dunce in the room, but was okay with it because I'd also be the youngest, least experienced, and it would be seen as a good thing for me to hang out with those more knowledgeable to learn from them. On top of that, I had been to Brighton's training ground before for a match (so I had been there before, and had deserved to be there), as well as being not too far from completing the B license, and also knowing the tutor for the day. Maybe I didn't deserve to be there, but that didn't enter my head. I felt great as I was with my superiors and I was learning. Plus, how many of them had their NSCAA Advanced National or had coached in Mexico, Canada, USA, Kuwait, and Singapore? So very quickly, I was able to mentally state a case for myself and my attendance.

The times we feel like we don't deserve to be there are often the times when we hold some moderate level of ability. Being the idiot at Brighton, I had made peace with that fact. I accepted my position, and didn't need to impress anyone. I took some big steps this past season, and many times I questioned whether I deserved to be there. What's strange is that sometimes you find yourself to be feeling these feelings, yet are not able to put it into perspective. Why would they have hired you if you weren't good enough? Someone had looked at a bunch of CVs and seen you interview, and decided you were good enough for the job. Recruiters do make mistakes (Steve Kean). Some people can talk a good game, but in the overwhelming majority of cases, you deserve to be there.

My position at Aldershot Town was the first association I had directly with a professional club. I had some big names on my CV, but this was a little different. These kids were good players, they were intelligent, and they were used to high standards. The club wanted the best. My boss was very good at his job. Was I going to be good enough? I was anxious at my first session (though I didn't show it), I made sure everything was perfect down to the millimetre, including my socks. I had to fight off the self-doubt all the way from my front door to the touchline. And I was worried about being judged by the other coaches, kids, and the parents. Of course, what we're all unaware of is that others around us are feeling the same thing. The kids would have been nervous as for many it was their first time in such a setup. Were they really good enough to be at such a club? Were they about to let down their parents? And what about their new coach? What if their new coach doesn't think they are good enough? And then there's the other coaches. I wasn't the only new one there. I was also one of the older, more experienced, and more qualified ones. But I didn't look or care. What they may or may not have been going through was irrelevant to me. And that of the players. I was 100% focused on not coaching a terrible session. The players, visibly shaking from their nerves, were 100% focused on not looking like idiots. Every pass was safe. No one took risks. We all avoided failure.

It's hard moving into lead a new group and convince them that they need you and what you've got. Especially if it's an already established group. They will already have a very good idea of what they expect. And if their last coach was amazing, you could be a good coach, but be a step down by comparison. At Portsmouth, I often felt like a fraud. At Southampton, in the same league, there were no expectations upon us. Everyone thought we'd finish bottom with no wins. I put my heart and soul into that team, and we finished with three teams below us, and some impressive results. Over a year later, and I come into Portsmouth. A team that finished third the year before, and that had a fantastic and well liked coach. They were in a terrible situation, and although it was nothing to do with me, it can quickly be seen as your fault if you're not able to do anything about it. I had thirteen games at Pompey, winning ten, drawing one, and losing two. In nine of those games we kept a clean sheet. Overall we conceded eight goals and scored forty-three in thirteen games. That's brilliant. We won the cup. I kept getting all this praise. It was a difficult situation because it's like I existed on two planes. The first one where everyone outside thinks I'm brilliant because our results were great, and the second on the inside, where the players know the truth, and were largely indifferent to me. I steadied the ship, that's all that could be done. And five months of ship steadying includes picking the bare eleven, and running training sessions with six or seven players. You can't shine in those circumstances, and thus the players never found out what I was capable of as a coach, while those outside the team thought I was brilliant because they only based it on results. I asked a player, to prove a point, in many years time when you look back, what will she remember me for? What one thing will have benefited her? What pearl of wisdom from Coach Willy will stick with her and make her a better player? She was embarrassed to say it, but eventually the answer came out of her. There was nothing. She wished to spare my feelings, but that was the point. The had learnt literally nothing from me. And they couldn't. How could they when our training was so horrendous? Absolutely not because of me, and we all know this, but coaches like to leave a legacy, have an impact, and make a dent in the universe.

Coaching at Surrey University, I was in a situation where all the players were technically better, and much fitter than I was. They were also intelligent and highly motivated. This is the first time in my coaching career that I would not have gotten into the team. In all my previous teams, I could have been some use as a player. Especially in my U12 girls team at Romsey Town. So what if they found out I was a fraud? Good players and good facilities. Nothing to hid behind. No crutch to lean on. Just me and my naked talent. If I wasn't good enough, it would show pretty quickly. I did as much research as I could so that I could prepare. I asked loads of questions, I then put this all into a vision. We then worked hard every week to make it a reality. For the first few weeks, while introducing them to my concept of triangles, I felt like at any moment I would be exposed as a fraud. I taught them a simplified version of posicion de juego. We wanted to play like a Pep team. I'm no Guardiola. What if one of them watched some old Barcelona clips and found a fundamental way in which I was teaching it wrong? Or if I was teaching them a component that wasn't applicable to our league and opponents? How would I respond? I don't have all the answers. I got round that through thorough research and preparation. I wasn't going to do a bad session or a bad teamtalk. Sure, there were probably a few that weren't my best work, but I really put a lot of time and effort into my presentations, sessions, analysis, and teamtalks. We also had a less autocratic environment. The players understood that some opinions were welcome. Because they were being listened to, and because they were being empowered, perhaps they would have overlooked any of my apparent flaws. More importantly, we were playing well and winning games. I couldn't have been a fraud. I finished my contract as a proud league champion.

We must all be careful of fear of failure, but more importantly, succeeding at things that don't matter.

For those aware of the Dunning-Kruger Effect, Impostor Syndrome is pretty much the antithesis of this. Instead of morons thinking they're brilliant, we're looking at geniuses thinking they're awful. It's to do with how much knowledge one possesses, in relation to the knowledge that they can see is available to have. Someone who knows very little about the situation will not know how much there is to know about it. How many times have we heard football simplified as just twenty-two idiots chasing a ball? All they do is run around for a living. Such a person clearly has no idea.

When suffering from impostor syndrome, there are two different reactions to mistakes and luck. We focus so much on the mistakes we make. I've been disappointed with wins before because we weren't very good. I have been somewhat inconsolable after passing coaching courses because I knew I could have done better. Why couldn't I just be happy for passing the course? Perhaps that's the perfectionist coming out. I don't accept good enough in football, and so I won't accept it in my coaching. I knew I could do better, and was disappointed not to have done. In regards to luck, my final game with Southampton was a dominating 6-0 win against Milton Keynes in what was one of the most complete performances in my entire coaching career. The team was amazing that day. Yet I'm not fully accepting of it because our first goal should not have happened. One of our players had a long shot that went narrowly wide of the target. The referee wrongly thought it took a deflection and awarded a corner. He was the only one to think that. We scored from the set-piece and went on to demolish the opposition. The attacking was fluid and poetic. The defending was organised and controlled. It was pure perfection as the group reached their highest level, achieving near to their potential. But still I focus on that corner. Every good piece of feedback about that game is 100% true. The team was brilliant. BUT OUR FIRST GOAL CAME FROM A CORNER THAT SHOULD NOT HAVE BEEN GIVEN AND THAT STICKS IN MY MIND!!!!!

Unless w're bitter and miserable, others don't succeed through luck. It's this constant comparison to others that we do in our heads, and it drives us mad. I find coaches that are younger than me and more competent than me. They have more qualifications and better experience. There are the examples of coaches in their late twenties and early thirties being awarded top jobs at professional teams. There are the examples of mere kids passing their B licenses. But these are the exceptions, not the norm. When I go on courses, I am often one of the youngest (I'm getting older, yes, but think as I move up the coaching ladder, I enter significantly older peer groups). I have worked around the world. and my experiences make people jealous, yet I dismiss that. They could have done it too. If they had known about it, applied, and taken that leap of faith, they too would have had that experience. They too would have been able to do what I did. It's not superhuman. I'm unremarkable, yet still, it was me that did it. Not them.

We have this illusion that everyone else around us is going around knowing exactly what they're doing. For example, when having discussions on coaches courses, there might be a coach that makes an incredibly poignant observation. We assimilate it to our knowledge, but also beat ourselves up for thinking "Why didn't I think of it like that? Why Am I such an idiot that I couldn't see it? What do I need to do to be able to see the world like that?" In reality, unless he or she is a truly exceptional candidate, that might be their only nugget for the course. And if said early enough, they create a reputation for themselves that they can dine out off of for the duration of the course. And we all know reputations stick, and that first impressions count. So never leave the house in a state you wouldn't be happy for your ex to see, and never say or do anything that would make your teachers feel justified for branding you as a deadbeat loser. Do they know more, or do they know different? We are all specialists in our way, and can all contribute something different. I know more about psychology than most coaches, who may know more about tactics, or strength and conditioning. Yet if someone has better tactical knowledge than I do, it doesn't matter that I beat then tenfold for psychology. I feel annoyed, let down, and disappointed with myself for being such an idiot.

Constant criticism can be something that haunts us. Again, this is not external, but internal. We all have different levels of tolerance for external criticism. Coaches have to have thick skin and learn to repel the nonsense from parents. It's all just noise. If you let that rubbish get to you, you'll never make it. It's the internal criticism that gets us. Parents and others not in the know like to say stupid stuff, and will attempt to be hurtful. After a while, you learn it's not personal, even though it sounds it, but it's just that they're aggressive idiots. It stops bothering you as you drown it out and see it for what it truly is; morons attempting to get a reaction. A little like becoming immune to childish teasing.

The internal criticism is often relentless. It can be paying attention to the smallest mistakes, or trying to second guess where you're going to go wrong. "You're an idiot. That will never work." You beat yourself up over the most stupid of things. And why? What purpose does it serve? Humans are idiots, and we can't stop ourselves from pushing the self-destruct button. If it's harmful, we keep doing it and doing it.

As mentioned before, high standards play a large part in it. For most coaching assessments, the coach needs to get around 70-80% right to be awarded a pass. That's very high. To do a decent session, the coach has actually done quite well. But we don't see it like that. We reflect only on what went badly. Silly really. Imagine a cup winner being annoyed about a misplaced pass in the midfield? Is it irrelevant? Perhaps today, it's not. But what lead to that mistake? Why did such an innocuous and easily controllable event go wrong? Decision making? Execution? What if that bad pass had lead to something? When coaching a session, it's more like moulding or sculpture. We have to keep up the momentum, and continuously manipulate, prod, and smooth over. There is room for mistakes, but we can't allow anything to derail the operation. We've designed an area that's too big, so we must make it smaller quickly before the session loses intensity or becomes unrealistic. Once that happens, it's difficult to get back on track. A bit like losing the mood. Once it's gone, it's gone. A coach can take wrong turns, but as long as they are identified and rectified pretty quickly, everything will be okay.

There's a clear Catch 22 with being a perfectionist in an environment in which we know, many mistakes will happen. We know perfection is not attainable, but if we chase perfection, we can catch excellence.

This kind of train of thought often leads us to not accepting or believing the credit that comes our way. The average person will overestimate their contribution to a result. Think back to any group project at college or university. With impostor syndrome, it's the other way around. There's a point to be made for being humble. We like to do it because it feels good, or because it really is the right thing to do. Some people get tired of hearing it and really want to pin you down with a compliment. I've learnt to just say thank you, rather than fighting with people about how it was all down to my players and not due to my input. I try and justify it by saying it was them that made the tackles, hit the passes, took the shots, made the saves. All I did was put some cones down. To a large extent, that's true. But as the credit givers will like to point out, there is something I did that had a positive effect on them. "I watched training the other night and could really see them doing today what you taught them." Or "That was a great decision to switch him around and play him there." Both are true, but again, we have a defence mechanism for it. I may have made that decision, but it was obvious. Or if such a player wasn't good enough to do it, then as coach, I would not have had such an option. I only did what any coach worth their salt would have done. All true, and a strong case can be made, but let's zone out and look at the bigger picture; I'm in such a job because I'm a top candidate, I'm still in such a job because I am consistently displaying competency, and these decisions might seem easy and simple, but that's because I'm actually quite good for the level I'm working at. Yes, perhaps it is expected of me to be able to make such decisions, but it's expected of me because I am good at what I do.

Fancy that. Yet we wrestle with it. We don't wish to be seen to be lapping up praise. The sweet nectar of credit. All coaches become immune pretty quickly to those that like to blow smoke. That's a different issue. Praise can make us soft. Praise can mean we start to believe our own hype. Praise can create a dependency and an addiction. We don't want to become people-pleasers, and we don't wish for this praise to conceal our flaws. If we conceal our flaws from ourselves, we stop moving forward. We lose that momentum. The cycle of constant improvement will cease as we stop analysing and looking for ways to streamline. Overconfident coaches become drunk on praise, and start to believe their own farts don't smell, and that they can do no wrong. We can't allow ourselves to become like that if we wish to keep growing. Growing is like rowing upstream; if you stop rowing, you start moving backwards.

How can we help?

There's four main ways we can deal with this. Four things we can do to either solve or alleviate the symptoms:

1. Spiritual reflection. I don't seem like the kind of person that would advocate yoga or meditation, but there really is something to it. I had to study this as part of my master's, otherwise I probably would never have tried it. These are simple things that can have profoundly positive effects on our body and mind. Being quiet, stopping yourself from thinking, shutting up the nagging voices in your mind. It can be achieved via other means too, essentially anything relaxing, completely unrelated to your tasks, that recharge your batteries. Perhaps not watching mindless television at the end of the day, but more escaping into a fantasy land within a book or a movie. Allowing yourself to be temporarily immersed into this other world, where you don't exist, and neither do the pressures and stresses that place such burdens upon you. I often find a long car journey of about an hour, late at night with few other road users, and my favourite tunes, can do the trick. It's like a therapy session with me and my music. Dinner with your partner at a restaurant is not relaxing in this way. You might begin to talk or think about work, or bring up your domestic problems. If you end up doing that, it's not the way for you to shut off. If you can't be trusted to not turn every opportunity into a chance to let off steam about work, then you need a Ulysses Contract. Go somewhere that forces you to forget, and doesn't allow you to talk to others. Probably why I like science-fiction so much; there's no football in space. Nothing that is even likely to remind me of it. I completely switch off.

2. Nurturing relationships. Blokes have loved the latest piece of research to come out that says men need their guy time. A chance to unwind with the bros by shooting pool, watching the game, and chugging cervezas. Cool. But this is hardly a secret. We all need that escape, and as we are social beings, we feed off of the energy of others. Clubs aren't a relaxing environment. This is ordering a pizza and watching the game with your homies. Reliving old stories and telling jokes. The same is applicable to women too. In addition to this safe space to unwind, with these relationships that turn our red head to a blue head, we need nurturing relationships. The dude brigade can keep us in check, but it can't help us grow. For that, we need mentors. It could be a peer, a boss, or someone outside of your organisation entirely. Most of the people I consider mentors were probably unaware of that. Outside the obvious tutor to student relationship, that we're actually paying for, the best mentorships form naturally. It's usually older, wiser, more experienced, and more knowledgeable coaches. They might not know it, but you're lapping up as much as you can from them. Their knowledge, how they handle stress, their organisational skills. If you aren't lucky enough to find a mentor naturally, there are many organisations that can help. Each county FA has a coach mentorship scheme.

3. Physical wellbeing. I don't recall seeing many people that were fit and healthy, real fit and healthy, not just the not dying kind of fit and healthy, being unhappy. They're usually motivated and with a spring in their step. The fatties, drinkers, smokers, and those people that aren't fat but are unfit, are the ones more likely to be masking their pain. The only workout you regret is the one you don't do. Being fit makes a person feel good. When you notice jiggling when moving, a few extra rolls or another chin, there's a sense of impending shame. We feel ugly, and although baggy shirts and sucking it in can help hide it from others, we feel it when we walk upstairs. Some people are able to lie to themselves, and some are able to come to terms with it. The mental effects are superb too, as our problem solving and decision making skills are heightened by exercise. And if we're fit, we get more lingering looks from strangers and passers-by. It's one hell of a boost to catch someone glancing at your bum. When you like what's looking back at you in the mirror, you feel invincible.

4. Developing understanding. We should all be continuously striving to be better at what we do. With increased understanding we can become more competent at our tasks, and also plan strategies for becoming better in the future. As I have learnt more about myself, my abilities, opinions, and values, I have developed a more refined idea of where I want to go and what I want to do. The increased understanding delivers better path finding skills. The newest coaches have no idea of where they want to go, what they want to do. They don't know what they are capable of, and they don't know what options are open to them. Through developing my understanding of football and coaching, I have a much better idea of what it takes, and a far clearer picture of what I need to improve upon. We rank the most important factors, rank score our abilities, and then cross-reference them to see what needs working on. I don't have the best understanding of strength and conditioning. It's functional, but not expert. How much more effective would I be at my specific job if I learnt more about S&C? A little? It's not that relevant for me, so should I devote so much time and effort into it? What about tactical understanding? Again, functional, as I can get by. It's not the best. But tactical understanding would make me massively more effective at my job, so that's worth putting in the time and effort. And with greater feeling (and clear evidence of) competency at a task, the impostor syndrome begins to dissipate. After a few weeks in these jobs, once I had assessed the level, assimilated the necessary information, and figured out what it took to be successful, while taking steps to move towards it, the feeling went away.

Self-talk is another thing we can do, and it is a technique used by all the top athletes. When I'm being a wuss at the gym, sometimes my mind takes over and starts berating me for being useless. I then work harder to prove that voice wrong. Others have a more encouraging voice that can calm them down or inspire them. Sometimes the voice relates to task competency, reassuring the athlete that they are capable, or even reminding them through habitual chanting of how to complete the movement; "Left foot down, nose over the ball, three steps back" when taking a free-kick.

Often the reason why impostors don't ask for help or seek out mentors is that we view vulnerability as a weakness. Yet we don't view our players like that. If our players come to us for help or extra advice, we love it. We want nothing more than to help them. We're thrilled that they want to get better, that they trust us to be able to help them, and we love that they have the courage to admit to their flaws. It's like we have to adhere to this all-knowing facade. I am quite happy to admit that I don't know everything, and that I am still learning, yet I don't let people know in what areas. I have a weakness, but I'm not telling you. Like it creates an imbalance in power, or a dependency. We make it a private struggle, when really, like we expect our players to do, we should reach out for help and guidance.

We possess a belief that a successful career is a happy life. The two are actually separate. As we become more intelligent, we better identify the problems with ourselves, those close to us, and the world in general. That can be depressing when you realise everything is awful and nothing is going to change. Hunger, disease, inequality, bigotry, crime, and Xbox coaches. These things are not going away overnight. They will never be cured in our lifetime, so what's the point in working so hard and fighting against the grain? We have the knowledge and the means to solve all these problems, yet we're not. There's too many blocks within the system that are stopping things.

Our career has become our life. Our well being, both financially and mentally, depends on how well we do. It's not like an office job, where we can easily separate work from home, I am always Coach Willy. When I'm with friends and family, I am still a coach. I don't work as a coach, I am a coach. It's in my blood. It's what I enjoy. I'm always thinking, analysing, and planning. I want to get better and I want to succeed. I fantasise about the future, and about where I will work, what I will achieve, and what qualifications I will obtain. Always being in coach mode is draining. We become obsessed with the progress. The next game and the next session can consume us. It's like we're constantly seeking a high. Every achievement is over quickly, and we're back to chasing it again. It never lasts, whereas defeat, setbacks, and disappointments can be lingering and soul destroying. Unfortunately, the way humans are wired, two positives are as powerful as one negative. Each good thing that happens to us is worth about fifty points, and each negative thing is worth minus one hundred points. And for good measure, let's throw in a rent fee of about ten points per day. If we say that there's two training sessions, which if go well, can add fifty points each, and if go wrong can deduct one hundred points each, and then one game which is worth the same, it means there are 150 points to be earned each week, and 300 to be lost. Considering we're paying 70 points each week, even if we have two good sessions and a good game, we're only earning 80 points, once you take away rent. If just one of those games or sessions goes badly, we're in the minus. A bad session at -100 is worth two good sessions. Three bad sessions plus rent equals -370 points per week. Sure, not everything can be classified as absolutely amazing and absolutely awful. You can have alright sessions, okay games, everything from brilliant to terrible, but when reading this back, I'd say it's a pretty good description of where my head is at. If 0 is neutral, even the best week only gets me to +80, whereas the absolute worst gets me to -370. That's why we've got to keep working hard every single day, to pay that rent.

The price to pay for this kind of life is high. If it's what you want to do, you need to be willing to sacrifice a lot. It's when we turn a career into a calling. I'm not convinced everyone working within sport absolutely wants to be there. Go to your local leisure centre and you'll see staff with BTECs and NVQ Level 1s and 2s. These people were kind of sporty, and didn't fancy a normal job, but are doing a kind of normal job, just in red shorts. It's a job. A slightly different job, but a job nonetheless. It's not a calling. I love what I do. I am not going through the motions. I feel like I am empowering and a positive force for good. I get a great feeling of immense satisfaction when I see that I have had a positive effect on the life of another through my work. If you want to be happy, turn your career into a calling.

Always remember, the sky is the limit. Most of those leisure centre staff don't have the ambition to go further. Most coaches working within the game, when asked about their ambitions, with a wry smile following a little pressing, they will tell you they want to get to the top. Premier League, Champions League, international football. They also know they probably won't get there, as do I, but it's what we're all aiming for. We wouldn't accept mediocrity from our players, even though we know very few of them will make it as players. As soon as we limit our beliefs, and think we can't make it, that we aren't capable, and that we're going nowhere, then we're stuck. We place a cap on our own potential. We become that self-fulfilling prophecy. "I told you I wasn't any good." He who believes he can, and he who believes he can't, are both usually right. I can recognise that the odds of me making it into the Premier League are small, but as soon as I see it as an impossible dream, that's when the door becomes firmly shut. I locked it myself before I ever got a chance to knock.

Impostor syndrome manifests itself in many ways. There's depression, which to the outsider, seems down right illogical. How can you be depressed when you have so many things going well for you? It's not like people choose to be miserable (although some do, but that's a mindset, not depression). There's anxiety, which we discussed earlier, and even addiction. It can lead people to bad habits that numb the pain (like listening to awful music because you can't face reality). We have stalled projects, because we can't bring ourselves to finish them. No one will notice. There's unfinished masterpieces. I'm not talking about my blog, as that's more laziness when I come back to an article several weeks later. I find this with analysis pieces. It takes ages, and after a while, I think that it's not very good, and thus not worthwhile, yet even if from a ten minute video, it's only one player that picks up one thing that's useful, it's still one thing they didn't previously have. It makes a difference. And then we have unhappy lives. The fear of being found out, and being exposed as a fraud. The fear of letting others down. The fear of ridicule, the fear of failure, and the fear of inadequacy. That's probably my biggest fear. I want to make a dent in the universe, and if I die without having done so, if the world is not a better place due to my input, if I have not made a positive impact, I will die a failure. That scares me more than anything.