In Praise of Impostor Syndrome
During my last trip to Panama, I ended up sitting next to James “Chuy” Roberts at dinner. He didn’t announce it, but my friend Elliott Stark quietly told me that Roberts one of the world’s most accomplished offshore captains.
I find that’s often the case. Those who have done it don’t need to gratuitously tell you about it.
If you’re comfortable with yourself and your accomplishments, it doesn’t require any reinforcing.
There were other charter captains there, less worldly but still accomplished, who were constantly touting everything they’d done. Mr. Roberts had no need for such nonsense.
Still, he was willing to share his experiences. I was anxious to pick his brain and wise enough to know that little I would say could possibly impress him. It was a huge opportunity for a budding salt freak like myself to get some insights and some wisdom, so I sat with him and tried to work in as many questions as I could without becoming annoying.
I told him that I’d been to both Panama and Guatemala multiple times, along with Costa Rica years ago, and Mag Bay last November. “Where should I head next?” I asked.
“Spin a globe and go wherever your finger ends up,” he replied. It dawned on me that no matter where I pointed, he’d likely fished there. He might’ve even pioneered the fishery. It made me feel small. It made me feel inexperienced. It made my 20+ years in the fishing industry seem insignificant. And at the same time it energized me to get out and fish more.
I’ve spent a lot of my life suffering from impostor syndrome – the feeling that you’ll be exposed as a fraud despite being reasonably competent. I know that I’ve lived a great life so far, but it often feels like the residue of luck, good timing and the sperm lottery rather than anything I’ve done.
That’s the feeling that I get when I fish with anglers like Kevin VanDam, Skeet Reese, John Crews or Keith Combs.
It’s the same one that I feel during Bass Fishing Hall of Fame board meetings, when luminaries of the fishing industry – all more experienced and better-connected than I am – offer up their ideas.
And I certainly know that there are fishing writers who possess far stronger chops in journalism and just plain storytelling than I ever will.
Every time I’m on a podcast, I assume they’ve made a mistake in inviting me – and that once they get the viewership numbers they’ll never invite me back.
One reaction to impostor syndrome would be to just curl up into the fetal position and give up. But I’ve taken great energy and great inspiration from business professor Scott Galloway, who I’ve heard say multiple times on his podcast that “If you never feel like an impostor, you’re either not in the right rooms or you’re a psychopath.”
It’s that “right rooms” language that really resonated with me.
If you’re always the smartest guy around, you win every tournament and claim every award, you’re likely just coasting along. A friend put it in perspective when I told him about a teenager I knew who’d gotten into every college to which he’d applied: “He didn’t aim high enough.” Indeed, while I’m sure there are cases of applicants who identify the perfect school for their needs, in most cases my friend is right. If you don’t occasionally feel the sharp sting of rejection or finish in second place, you are no doubt limiting your options and your growth potential.
I spend a lot of time feeling like a mediocre and inexperienced angler because I’m constantly around people who are at the top of the heap – not just in my little segment of the sport, but worldwide. Being exposed to people like James Roberts, KVD, Oliver Ngy, David Salazar and numerous others makes me hungrier for knowledge and opportunities, not bashful about what I’ve yet to see or accomplish. I’ve had tremendous opportunities to be around the best of the best and I’ve learned to embrace, enjoy and benefit from every moment in those rooms.
