Bounce by Matthew Syed

[Tamrin]

Bounce: The Myth of Talent and the Power of Practice

When we watch Nick Matthew, Ramy Ashour or indeed any of the world’s leading players in action we are invariably astounded. We are electrified by their virtuosity, the intricacy of their skill and the diversity of their shot-making. Their abilities seem so far beyond the reach of us ordinary mortals as to occupy a different planet.

The same perspective applies to other types of world-beaters, whether it is chess grandmasters or virtuoso pianists. They possess such artistry, vision and audacity as to seem like a special breed, touched by a genetic miracle that eluded the rest of us.

Talent is the word we use to rationalise these skills, the idea that sporting stars are born with greatness encoded in their DNA. How else to explain how the likes of Ashour can flash the ball into the nick in the blink of an eye or how Matthew is able to stroke a backhand winner from the back of the court?

It boils down to the idea that sporting excellence is reserved for a select group of individuals - winners in a genetic lottery that passed the rest of us by. But what if this seductive idea is all wrong? What if our deepest assumptions about success in squash - indeed, about life itself – are entirely misconceived? What if talent itself is not just a meaningless concept, but a corrosive one, robbing ourselves and our children of the incentive to work hard and excel?

Of course, none of this is to deny that some kids start out better than others; it is merely to suggest that the starting point we all have in life is not particularly relevant. Why? Because over time, with the right kind of practice, we change so dramatically. It is not just the body that changes, but the anatomy of the brain. The region of the brain responsible for controlling fingers in young musicians, for example, is far larger than for the rest of us. But they were not born with this; it grew in direct proportion to the number of years of training.

Similarly, a study of London taxi drivers discovered that the area of the brain governing spatial navigation is substantially larger than for non-taxi drivers - but it did not start out like this, it developed with time on the job.

To put it simply, the secret of success does not lie in talent, but in hard work, will and opportunity.

[Tamrin]

What is meant by complexity? In effect, it describes those tasks characterized by combinatorial
explosion; tasks where success is determined, first and foremost, by superiority in software (pattern
recognition and sophisticated motor programmes) rather than hardware (simple speed or strength)


Ericsson and his colleagues were astounded by these findings, sensing that they heralded
a paradigm shift in the way excellence is understood – that it is practice, not talent, that
ultimately matters. ‘We deny that these differences [in skill level] are immutable; that is, due
to innate talent,’ they wrote. ‘Instead we argue that the differences between expert performers
and normal adults reflect a life-long persistence of deliberate effort to improve performance’


By the age of twenty, the best violinists had practised an average of ten thousand
Hours – more than two thousand hours more than the good violinists and more than
six thousand hours more than the violinists hoping to become music teachers. These
differences are not just statistically significant; they are extraordinary. Top performers
had devoted thousands of additional hours to the task of becoming master performers.
But that’s not all. Ericsson also found that there were no exceptions to this pattern


Good decision making is about compressing the informational load by decoding the meaning of
patterns derived from experience. This cannot be taught in a classroom; it is not something you
are born with; it must be lived and learned. To put it another way, it emerges through practice


Feedback is, in effect, the rocket fuel that propels the acquisition of
knowledge, and without it no amount of practice is going to get you there


So the question is: How long do you need to practice in order to achieve excellence?
Extensive research, it turns out, has come up with a very specific answer to that
question: from art to science and from board games to tennis, it has been found that
a minimum of ten years is required to reach world-class status in any complex task


Once the opportunity for practice is in place, the prospects of high achievement take off.
And if practice is denied or diminished, no amount of talent is going to get you there


Matthew Syed
British author (Bounce: The Myth of Talent and the Power of Practice)



Ever tried. Ever failed. No matter. Try again. Fail again. Fail better

[Tamrin]

In Bounce, Matthew Syed - an award-winning Times columnist and three-time Commonwealth table-tennis champion - reveals what really lies behind world-beating achievement in sport, and other walks of life besides. The answers - taking in the latest in neuroscience, psychology and economics - will change the way we look at sports stars and revolutionise our ideas about what it takes to become the best.

From the upbringing of Mozart to the mindset of Mohammed Ali - via the recruitment policies of Enron - Bounce weaves together fascinating stories and telling insights and statistics into a wonderfully thought-provoking read. Bounce looks at big questions - such as the real nature of talent, what kind of practice actually works, how to achieve motivation, drugs in both sport and life, and whether black people really are faster runners.

Along the way Matthew talks to a Hungarian father whose educational theories saw his daughters become three of the best chess players of all time, meets a female East German athlete who became a man, and explains why one small street in Reading - his own - has produced more top table-tennis players than the rest of Britain put together. Fresh, ground-breaking and tackling subjects with broad appeal, Bounce is sure to be one of the most talked about books of the year.