A painful example: The trap of success.

Losing in the semi-finals when we were the heavy favourites to win the whole thing taught me a ton about human nature.

We were minor premiers, had the MVP of the league, three other players in the all-league team, and the coach of the year winner. But we choked to a team that didn't get caught up in the storyline. They paid no attention to the hype, and saw us objectively: where we were strong, where we were weak, where they could exploit us, and how they would do it. When we took the court there was a distinct difference in each team's approach. We were hoping that the storyline would carry us through to the championship, while they were rooted right in the present moment; committing to delivering their best effort at all times and trusting that they would make the right plays when opportunities presented themselves.

The whole experience bothered me greatly because I saw how flimsy our identity was. We were great when the media was singing our praises, when the fans crowded the arena to see us win, and we were steam-rolling teams in the regular season. But is this what we had become when the outcome wasn't so certain anymore, and our weaknesses were being exposed?

A steadfast identity and sustainable excellence comes from the inside-out. It gets corrupted really quickly when things from the outside seep in. Success is actually one of the most influential corrupting variables. I don't know if it hijacks our desire for a blissful utopia, or our hardwiring for energy preservation, but I know that it fogs our mind. It convinces us that we don't need to commit to doing what it takes to get a result, and instead our presence alone will guarantee it. This was what we experienced during that series, and it happens a lot in other arenas. That's why when you see someone who has been great at something for a long time, they get quite annoyed by adulation and praise. They see it for what it is: flimsy, unhelpful, and a danger to their continued success.