Inconfidence

INCONFIDENCE

GUEST COLUMN

IN SPONTANEITY WE TRUST

PETER JONES

Life is often a mind game. We can succeed or fail at challenges simply through confidence or doubt. The late Grand National Champion Gary Nixon had a winning edge of confidence, even when he might not have had a machine with a winning edge of performance. He's been attributed to saying before a race, "Which one of you losers is going to finish second?" It was a rhetorical question; he didn't really care what the finishing order of losers was behind him.

But sometimes confidence doesn’t produce what its famous billing proposes. Sometimes confidence is just sugar on the brain: nothing but empty calories. Nothing but narcissism—all reflection and no flesh.

A novice racer I knew had a mountain of confidence and a chasm of talent. I once wished him good luck as he readied himself for a race. He responded, “I don’t need luck.” Minutes later, he ran off the track about five times and finished well out of the top to. But maybe he was right and no amount of luck would have mattered. Or maybe there’s a difference between confident and cocky.

Another time, I watched a world champion, who’d fallen from the graces of a factory ride, jump on his privateer misfiring motorcycle and head out onto the racetrack for AMA Superbike qualifying. He returned after the session with his bike still misfiring, his exhaust system now half hanging off, his engine smoking from leaking oil, and a best lap time that put him at about 15th place on the grid. He announced to us that he felt good about the race and the likelihood that a podium finish was in the cards for him. His wife agreed. Then they sat down for lunch. He’d fix the bike later. Well, he’d maybe fix some of its problems. Later. But as I said, he was a former world

champion, so what do I know?

Oh, wait, it came to me that I do know this: He won those championships as a rider, not as a mechanic. Maybe I should have mentioned that to him.

No.

I’m guessing that confidence, like bravery, can sometimes just be “stupid” wrapped in a more heroic-sounding name. Doing something dangerous that has a moral gain to it is brave. Doing something dangerous that has no moral gain is considered stupid. It can be a slim difference. For instance, running into a burning house to save your mother is brave. Running into a burning house to win a $5 bet is stupid. Running into that fire to save your collection of Cycle World magazines is, well, that’s up to argument. I mean, is it a complete set?

So the line between stupid and confident can be blurry, if it really exists at all. This is because confidence relies on faith, and faith is the ability to believe in something even if there’s not much evidence to support that belief. Sure, years of practice, an easy familiarity with a proven skill, and intuitive muscle memory are the trade that confidence is based on, but in competition, everyone else is planning on your failure in the same way you’re planning on theirs. So, in competition, as far as winning goes, the confidence of all but one will result in failure. There’s no way around that.

One funny thing I’ve experienced about confidence is this: When I have it, I don’t think about it, and when I have doubt, I obsess about my lack of confidence. “What will I do if...?” Confidence isn’t about having the answer; it’s the ability to believe you’ll come up with an acceptable answer when the need arises.

Confidence is nothing more than trusting your spontaneity. ETU

BY THE NUMBERS

140

FASTEST (EST.) MPH AT WHICH I'VE CRASHED A MOTORCYCLE

8 8 4

LONGEST SINGLE-SITTING MILEAGE I’VE DONE RIDING NONSTOP IN RAIN

3

NUMBER OF WORLD CHAMPIONS WHO WON A RACE WHILE I WAS DOING LAPS ON THE SAME RACETRACK