Out of heartache, sometimes, clarity can emerge. For Annie Vernon – a former Olympic and world champion rower who is now the author of Mind Games, a fascinating book about the psychology of elite sport – it took a decade to find this gleaming new path. Vernon was 25 in August 2008 when she rowed for Great Britain in the quad sculls at the Beijing Olympics. She won a silver medal which scarred her so deeply that, even now, she finds it difficult to discuss.
“I’m quite a private person,” Vernon says as she explains why the most painful moment of her career compelled her to eventually confront the complex mental tests that are the bedrock of professional sport. At the same time she chose not to write in detail about it. “I guess the defining feature of my career was that silver medal. It was absolutely devastating – like a broken heart. I thought I either tackle it in a big way or leave it as a footnote. I made it a footnote because it would have taken over the book.”
Mind Games explores compelling territory. It asks searching questions about the mentality required to succeed at sport’s highest level while mining themes of self-doubt, determination, competitiveness and why “talent needs trauma” to blossom. Vernon assesses the illusory nature of confidence, her belief that younger siblings are far more likely to be successful in sport and how small doses of disappointment work as a vaccine to strengthen an athlete during brutally testing moments. She also explains why being a world champion is akin to life as a security guard – “95% boredom, 5% excitement”.
Yet the book leaves me wanting to know more about the scars which have made her so resilient. Mind Games is full of jokey footnotes. But, in confining Beijing to a footnote, Vernon reveals how much it hurt her. How long did it take to recover from the failure that Katherine Grainger, Debbie Flood, Fran Houghton and she felt in “only” winning an Olympic silver medal?
“I don’t know,” she says simply. “Probably years. We wanted to win so much. We were good enough to win and that’s the reason we were so devastated. We made a few mistakes along the way and on the day itself. The three others had been to the Olympics in Sydney and Athens – and won medals. I was the youngest and this was my first Olympics.
“We were trying to be the first [GB women] to win rowing gold. It was all meant to happen. Even today I occasionally think: ‘Why didn’t we do this or that?’ But sport teaches you to choose your reactions. You could be bitter about that result for ever. But at some point you have to move on. As time goes on you feel better about the results. I suppose there are many great moments. Do they balance out that terrible moment? No, probably not.”
Vernon smiles and then, as motivation is one of her key themes, she continues. “Looking back, I didn’t motivate myself in a good way for that race. I motivated myself by imagining the Chinese flag going up the Olympic flagpole. They were our main rivals and that was how I pushed myself. Then I’m standing on the podium in Beijing. The Chinese flag is in the middle and I’m living my nightmare. Since I’ve retired I see things differently – but a part of me will always think: ‘That was your chance, and you blew it.’”
Vernon has interviewed more than 60 elite athletes, coaches and psychologists from diverse sports to discover how the mind shapes success and failure – while arguing that mental toughness and composure are developed rather than being innate gifts.
“The public understand skill development and physical training,” she says. “But they believe elite athletes are born without nerves and with massive confidence. It’s not true. The idea that rugby players are born to run out in front of 80,000 people at Twickenham? Of course they’re not. They learn how to do that. My interviewees all said: ‘You’re absolutely spot on. There’s this misconception that mental skills are there at birth. But they have to be made.’”
Each sporting narrative is unique and Vernon reveals the moment when she decided to commit fully to rowing. Aged 22, in 2005, she had just finished ninth in the single scull at the world championships in Japan. She was satisfied and looking forward to cheering on her teammates in the other finals. The best British women’s boat was the quad and Vernon describes how her four friends “looked deathly pale and nauseous” before the race. “I thought: ‘I’m glad I’m not in their shoes. That looks awful.’”
She then sat transfixed as the British women and the German world champions slugged it out on the water in a thrilling battle. The GB crew poured everything into one final effort and surged to victory. “It was a real turning point. I thought: ‘This is where I want to be.’ Before then I wasn’t sure if I wanted to commit to rowing. They might have lost and been absolutely devastated. I guess fast forward to Beijing three years later. We did lose, and I was absolutely destroyed. But that’s where I wanted to be. Like it or loathe it, here we go. Buckle up.”
Matthew Pinsent, who won rowing gold at four successive Olympic Games, told Vernon that, rather being an unflappable serial winner, he used to wish the van driving him to every major race would crash so he could escape competing. “That’s why sport is so interesting,” Vernon says. “Everyone does it differently. Early on, writing the book, I was wrestling with the concept of motivation. I texted 10 friends in a variety of elite sports. I asked: ‘What motivated you?’ I had 10 different responses – and I suddenly knew I had a book.”
Vernon was motivated more by success than a pure love of rowing. “Since I retired, I’ve rowed fewer than five times. Do I miss it? Not really … But I miss trying to be the best in the world at something. Looking back I was too focused on winning – rather than just enjoying this amazing part of my life. But do you have to be driven to the extent that anything less than gold is a failure? Some people will perform when free from pressure. Others want to feel as much pressure as possible. I just know if I did elite sport now I would do it very differently.”
There would still be no escaping the fact that, even for the gifted and dominant, training for elite sport is built on a capacity to cope with tedium. “I asked Ken Way, the sports psychologist [who worked with Gareth Bale], what separated the good from the truly great,” Vernon says. “He replied: ‘It’s love of the drudgery of training.’”
Vernon laughs. “I’ve repeated that quote so often.”
I ask Vernon why she does not focus more on gender. “We ran out of space,” she says with winning honesty. “In my first iteration of the book, gender was a whole chapter because it’s really interesting. In rowing, the men and women train alongside each other so you get to see from the outside how female and male crews do things differently.”
She suggests that, generally, “women derive confidence from good personal performances and the process; men derive confidence from winning and the outcome – men seemed only to need the coach to set the training programme and do a good job”.
Vernon adds: “Women need emotional support. Of course some men and women don’t fit that mould. But I heard a great interview that Danny Kerry [the GB women’s hockey coach] did. He coached the men before the women and he spoke about team-building. He said: ‘Men build their team around a task. What do we do? How do we do it? Women build their task around the team. They need a really strong bond first and then they’ll say: What is the task? How will we do it? It’s more of a connection. They want to get to know each other first – before becoming the best in the world.’
“I asked every coach I interviewed: ‘Do you coach men and women differently?’ They’d say: ‘Duh, of course!’ Toni Minichiello [who coached Jessica Ennis-Hill] was quite vocal about women being so much easier to coach. He said they don’t make excuses.”
Since writing the book Vernon has become a mother. “Being pregnant was similar to being an athlete. You have that deep connection with your body again. As an athlete you’re always listening to your body. What’s it telling you? What does it need? Am I doing too much or too little to perform at my best? As a mother you think: ‘What do I need to give the baby every opportunity for success?’ But once the baby’s born, healthy eating’s gone, your sleep is shot and everything’s out the window. That’s where the similarities end with elite sport.”
Vernon is busier and happier than ever but our interview prompts deeper reflection. She emails me the next day and we talk on the phone. Admitting that “being on the other side of the microphone is a draining experience”, Vernon called Houghton, her Beijing teammate and close friend, as soon as she and I had finished our interview.
“When you asked me: ‘Did you discuss the race afterward?’, I answered ‘Of course!’ The actual answer was no. We had one meeting several months later where we analysed our splits and established that the Chinese had a phenomenal last 500m. Did we ever confront exactly what went on the year before? No. This week was the first time Fran and I spoke in detail about it. I asked Fran: ‘How do you feel about Beijing? How do you explain to yourself what happened?’ My take was that we were so desperate to win we arrived there terrified we might mess up. That tension affected us.”
Vernon is at peace now and able to see a fresh outcome. “In lots of ways Beijing led me to Mind Games because I wanted to do something in elite sport that left me feeling positive. I didn’t want that to be the defining feature of my career or my life. Maybe one day, rather than the woman who stood on the podium in Beijing wishing she was anywhere but there, I’ll be known more as the author of Mind Games.”
Mind Games: Determination, Doubt and Lucky Socks – An Insider’s Guide to the Psychology of Elite Athletes by Annie Vernon is published by Bloomsbury
