The Pressure of Expectation

The Pressure of Expectation

When people of my praises sing,

It’s like a magic spell;

My confidence starts wavering;

On failure I dwell.

I know not how or why this is,

But basically, it’s down to this:

I never have done well

Neath the weight of expectation,

Crushing me with trepidation.

For example, (one of many):

At fifteen years of age,

I could sprint faster than any

Classmate, in the heat stage;

Running the two hundred metres,

Like a human born of cheetahs;

My name was all the rage;

A diadem; word having spread,

Hung weightily, above my head.

A fortnight passed and sports day came,

By which time I’d become,

A legend of unworthy fame,

And worth a tidy sum:

Some pupils of a betting bent,

Considered 50p well spent,

Not knowing I’d succumb,

To a creeping anxiety,

As reader, you will shortly see.

As I approached the starting line,

I heard the boys all sing;

That overstated name of mine:

Whoa, BARRY, BARRY, KING!

Awaiting there the starter’s gun,

(Harbinger of my hapless run),

The chorus still did ring;

Thus, expectation on my case,

I, barely set, began the race.

Upon the race I will not dwell;

Positions will suffice;

Mine being last, till someone fell,

Or tripped, to be precise;

Unmindful of this saving grace,

I crossed the line in seventh place;

The faller’s sacrifice,

(Albeit unintentional),

Barely even mentionable.

And of the race’s aftermath

There isn’t much to tell;

My seventh place was met with wrath,

And mockery as well.

The speculators’, having lost

Their bets approached me for the cost;

My classmates gave me hell,

But worst of all, my self-esteem

Was overwhelmed by doubt extreme.

Don’t pity me; I’ve learned to live

With doubt, as people do;

Unease I’m mainly coping with;

Sertraline gets me through.

In truth, I really can’t complain;

I’m very happy in the main,

As I hope you are too;

And if I fail in competition,

So be it! I lack ambition!

The other day, on stage, I read

An audience winning rhyme,

And suddenly I’m well ahead;

A legend, in his prime.

My dear friends, again, I say;

When expectation comes my way,

I flounder every time;

Don’t praise me, lest I go to pot;

A living legend I am not.