Not So Great Expectations

I learned to play golf on a course where the first tee was visible from everywhere. From the glass windows of the clubhouse to the practice putting green to all the caddies and players lining the first tee waiting and watching. Near the side of the tee stood an open shed where the caddie-master and starter, Louie, presided. Louie was the king of the golf course, setting the order of who teed off when, ruling the caddies with an iron fist and a quick and often cruel wit.

By twelve years old, I had become a decent golfer for my age. If the all-powerful Louie let me, I’d go out by myself late in the afternoon, when I’d rarely run into other players and could take as many “do-overs” as I wanted. Sometimes, I’d play with my father who was a repeat club champion and constantly amazed me with the distance and accuracy of his shots. He took a kindly attitude to my erratic golf game, gently offering me advice, never criticizing even my worst mistakes, and showing real enthusiasm when occasionally I’d hit a really good shot.

Then the “incident” happened. One fateful weekend summer morning my father and I were due to tee off at a prime time. My father went first, playing from the back tees and hit one of his monster drives, the sound of club against ball signaling the unmistakable clean crack of a golf shot well stroked. Now it was my turn and I walked to my tee. I placed the ball down and took my stance. Then I heard Louie, from his caddie-master shed, say loudly to my father, “Billy, your son’s gonna be a great golfer, maybe as good as you. He’s got the potential.”

My mind went numb. I looked around, probably with a look not all that different from a lamb that knows it’s being led to slaughter. I saw eyes on me everywhere. Hard eyes, resentful eyes, skeptical eyes. I swung my driver and missed. A complete whiff. Silence until my father encouraged me to take another try. I did. Another whiff. “We’ll drop a ball on the fairway,” said my father and off we went in the cart, my soul in agony. Almost fifty years later, I still have dreams about that moment.

That’s an extreme example of how unrealistic external expectations can wreak havoc. Unrealistic in that I could not imagine ever being nearly as good as my father. It was inconceivable to me and when it was said out loud in front of what seemed like the whole world, I simply fell apart.

I thought about this sad memory the other day when I was in a friendly doubles tennis game. I’m a reasonably consistent “B” tennis player, I love the sport and almost always leave the tennis court happier than when I arrived. It’s mentally relaxing to focus for a while on a game and to get exercise in the fresh air. Most importantly, the people I play with are exceptionally nice and fun to be with.

In tennis, at every odd numbered game, you alternate the side of the court with the other team, meeting in the middle. These breaks are useful for hydrating, wiping away sweat, and chatting.

One of my opponents in this recent doubles game was C. who is an exceptionally good sport and fun both to play with and against. She’s also a “clutch” player, making her very difficult to defeat. C. works hard at her tennis and it shows. During a break, C. asked what the score was.

 I said, “You’re up four games to three.” C.’s reply was, “Then things are as they should be.”

She said this with great charm and in a way that made it impossible to take offense. Her comment not only amused me very much, it made me realize that what made C. such a “clutch” player was her internal expectation that she would find a way to win every match she played. She expected to be ahead. Her attitude gave her a mental focus and toughness that was the exact opposite of my mental state when I broke down on the first tee so many years ago.

I’m not sure how far to take this contrast between internal and external expectations. There’s a whole body of social science literature, for example, that when teachers and parents have low expectations of children, it can crush hope for a lifetime.

On the other hand, unearned or false external expectations can be toxic. Praise for a talent you don’t possess or praise for a job poorly done can be just as crushing as unfair or premature low expectations. Conversely, internal expectations, if earned through hard work and experience like C.’s confidence in her tennis game, can boost your performance, your attitude, and your happiness.

By the way, C. and her doubles partner went on to win the set 6-3. Naturally.