Ego in Sport - Is normally just Fear with better legs.

When I was growing up, cycling was blue-collar.

Blokes worked all day, then turned up to the bunch ride. Shit bikes. Old odd kit. An ensemble of hand me downs and bits and bobs to to just get your self on the start line. Dont get me wrong the legs were still full of grit. And the good riders — not world champions, just good club riders — were the ones who lifted everyone else.

I still remember it.

“Come on, Vaughany, you’ve got one more turn in you.”
“Good effort, mate, that was solid.”
“Hold that wheel buddy, you’re stronger than you think.”

They didn’t shout you down.
They didn’t belittle you.
They didn’t flex.

They lifted you up! They encouraged you.

They made you better through positive engagment and most importantly TONE! ...  Not by putting you in your place and screaming their false authority. 

Somewhere along the line, that shifted.

And not just in cycling.

There’s a creeping nastiness in community sport now. A short fuse. A weird, defensive, ego-heavy energy that seems wildly disproportionate to what’s actually at stake... And not just on the bike or on the field but on the. sidelines and in the committees! 

We’re not racing for yellow jerseys.
We’re not playing for Ashes glory.
We’re not signing seven-figure contracts.

We’re lining up in public parks, on local ovals, at a Tuesday night club crit. No mater how friecken awesome it is! 

And yet some people are acting like they’re defending a world title, like they are running a multi-million dollar corporate sporting event. 

This week alone I’ve seen:

– Volunteers spoken to like employees
– Riders snapping mid-bunch
– Authority flexed unnecessarily
– Blokes having a crack at someone just for riding past in a simple bunch ride. 

For what?

For power?
For control?
For relevance?

Here’s the thing I’ve learned after decades in sport:

'The genuinely elite athletes — the really good ones — are almost always the calmest, kindest and most secure people in the room, on the field, in the bunch."

It’s rarely the world-class rider throwing their weight around.

It’s the "almost-good" ones.

Good enough to taste status. Extremely strong and some what talented .... but not secure enough to carry it respectfully wwith in the sport. 

That’s not a sport problem.
That’s a psychology problem.

Ego Is Usually Just Insecurity and Fear!

When someone needs to dominate a conversation, belittle a volunteer, shout down another rider, or throw around authority, it almost never comes from strength.

It comes from insecurity.

Community sport is meant to be medicine.

For stress.
For depression.
For grief.
For loneliness.

It’s where people come to feel part of something.

But when ego becomes the loudest voice in the room, that medicine turns toxic.

The blue-collar culture I grew up in wasn’t soft. It was hard as nails. It sometime hurt so much i had tears rolling down my cheeks. You still had to earn your respect.

But respect was given through effort and encouragement, not intimidation.

“C'Mon Vaughany, Pull one more turn mate... you got this.” I'd turn myself inside out to not let that short sentence of encouragement down. 

That was the code.

Now it sometimes feels more like:

“Know your place. .. Hold your Fuckin Line .... Pull a fucking turn" If your expecting a response other than "fuck you" with aggressive statements like that then you need your head read. 

And that’s the dangerous shift.

"Because community sport doesn’t survive on fear or hierarchy. It survives on belonging."

Here’s the Uncomfortable Truth

If you’re not racing WorldTour…

If you’re not wearing a national jersey or a baggy green…

If you’re not getting paid to lace up, clip in, or toe the line…

Maybe don’t act like you’re defending something sacred.

Because the only sacred thing in community sport is the community.

Whether it’s a Tuesday night crit, a Saturday arvo footy match, a local park run, a surf carnival, or a suburban netball court — we’re not there for contracts.

We’re there for connection.

The really good athletes know that.

They don’t need to shout.
They don’t need to belittle.
They don’t need to prove they belong.

They train hard.
They compete hard.
And they lift the standard by lifting the people around them.

They understand that sport at this level isn’t about status — it’s about shared suffering, shared effort, and shared pride.

And that’s the culture worth protecting.

Strong body. Calm mind. Less ego.

See you on the road - Yeeeeoooow 

 

V