About a year ago, I asked a friend of mine to review the article below, asking him his opinion on world champions and what it meant to be one, and this is what he had to say:
“They live in this weird limbo where you have to acknowledge the sheer dedication and willpower it takes to become world champion at anything while acknowledging the ability to compete in the first place is luck.
Being born in a first-world country sets you miles ahead of the competition in the race for global dominance in any sport. Some would call it luck, others grace, but what would you call being born into the family of a mother or father with already 4 world titles and millions of dollars in deals and endorsements?
Un-luck?
I doubt it. And while its definitely hard to measure a person’s luck, it is not so difficult to identify that one has it. As such, you can say that a person’s luck is different, but you cannot say that a person doesn’t have luck. So I would argue that if I were the brawn child of a Conor McGregor, or the brain child of an Elon Musk, I would be more eager to assert the difference in my luck than the absence of it. Because like it or not, there is still work to be done to cultivate my luck, albeit with much different tools.
As we as a society watch one generation of superstars fade into their respective halls of fame, the question on every ones’ lips is often “who will be the next [insert superstar here]?”
But is that the question we should be asking?
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