Paddy Upton
Pressure has an odd way of shrinking our view. When an important result looms — in sport, in business, or even in a conversation that matters — focus narrows. The spotlight often swings inward: on me, my performance, my result. And as attention collapses around the self, options fade, the body tightens, and we start mistaking reaction for action.
It’s a familiar loop. One that happens to cricketers walking out to bat, CEOs entering high-stakes meetings, and even in myself before big moments. Pressure doesn’t always announce itself loudly; it’s often just a subtle contraction — a narrowing of focus from the bigger picture to the immediate outcome.
Gary Kirsten described this beautifully when we sat down for our Lessons from the World’s Best conversation. At one stage in his career, he said he felt finished. Confidence gone, results nowhere, self-worth fading with every innings. “I was at the end,” he said. “On the edge of the cliff about to jump off.”
What turned things around wasn’t a new technique or a motivational talk. It was perspective.
He stepped back from the microscope of “me” and saw the wider picture — a life greater than runs on the scorecard. He remembered that he was a husband, a friend, a learner, a man who’d already achieved more than he’d once thought possible. He surrendered what had become an all-consuming struggle for results. With new and broader perspective, an inner calmness returned, along with a renewed trust in the journey. And almost immediately, results followed.
That story carries a lesson most of us need reminding of: pressure isn’t the enemy. It’s information. It invites awareness – awareness of where our attention is being directed – too narrow, too personal, too attached to outcomes?
When pressure takes over the reins, it begins to drive how we behave. We force, over-effort, tighten up, or pass that tension on to others. In chasing the result, we move further from the state that delivers it. The irony is that pressure often undermines the very performance we’re desperate to protect.
The best performers — in sport and leadership alike — learn to separate themselves from results. They hold steady regardless of the scoreboard because their identity isn’t tied to what just happened, or what might happen. Their confidence lives in preparation, not outcomes.
Confidence built on results is unreliable. Confidence built on preparation stands firm.
Gary spoke about how, for much of his playing career, his confidence was inseparable from runs on the board. When he scored, he felt tall. When he didn’t, he felt small. That cycle is common — not just in sport, but across every high-performance field.
We’re often taught that confidence is something we earn from success. But that kind of confidence is conditional; it disappears the moment results dip. Real confidence grows quieter roots — it’s built through consistent preparation, clear processes, and trust.
That’s what I call gold-standard preparation: showing up as a champion in your habits before any result appears. As Sun Tzu wrote more than two thousand years ago in The Art of War, “Every battle is won before it is fought.”
When the scoreboard is kind, preparation keeps you grounded. When the scoreboard turns, that same preparation keeps you steady.
It’s not about pretending fear or pressure don’t exist. It’s about recognising them early, naming them for what they are — a normal signal from a system trying to protect you — and returning focus to the next action that serves the moment.
The mind leads the body. When awareness steadies, skill flows.
The leadership parallel
This isn’t just a story about batting or sport. Leaders face the same contraction under pressure. Targets are missed or feel out of reach, clients push back, results turn red — and the natural reflex is to tighten control, talk more, direct more, do more.
But often the smartest move under pressure is to widen the frame: pause, step back, and reconnect to the bigger picture.
What’s actually happening here? What still works? What can I influence next?
From that wider perspective, clarity returns and communication softens. People feel safer around a leader who doesn’t flinch with every win or loss. That steadiness builds trust, and trust builds performance.
Gary captured it well: “The only real consistency we have is who we are as people.” When that’s solid, pressure loses its authority.
Preparation builds calm, and calm keeps performance steady.
Champions arrive as champions before the event begins — because true performance starts long before it’s measured.
That’s the heart of what Gary’s story reminds us: that performance under pressure has less to do with what’s happening out there, and everything to do with what’s happening in here.
Pressure narrows. Perspective widens.
And in that widening, we find space — to breathe, to choose, and to play again.
