DC Index125.79+1.01%OpinionThe answer to pressure, and where England got it wrong
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The answer to pressure, and where England got it wrong

The relationship between fear, pressure and risk. Why pressure doesn't scale but is completely relative.

Andrew Watson
Andrew WatsonJuly 16, 2026
England captain Harry Kane and teammate another player react after England's World Cup semi-final defeat to Argentina, illustrating the emotional weight of elite sport and the psychology of pressure.
England's World Cup Exit: Pressure, Fear and the Cost of Playing It Safe

$1.5 to $4 million dollars a year.

That is what I would, according to ChatGPT, be earning a year in salary, if I was the 535th best football (soccer) player in the world. Why 535? Because 535 is my career high ranking as a professional tennis player in singles.

My career prize money was $27,737, over roughly 2 years of professional events. An average of about $13,868.50 p/year.

Now, at 535 in the World football rankings where would that put me? Apparently, I'd be the equivalent 'rating' or level as a mid to lower team player in a major league, and as good as two of the starting 11 Argentina players on the pitch against England in the World Cup semi-finals, depending on my position. There are double the number of global participants in football (est. 250 million worldwide), compared to tennis players, so there's also an argument for relativity in there somewhere.

But why is this important?

Because as I write this piece (at 3:30am without much sleep), I want to clarify where my philosophy on pressure comes from. And before you say "you have no idea what it's like" you're right. I have no idea what it's like to play in front of 90,000 people, make millions of dollars a year, and carry the pressure of a nation behind me in a major tournament.

I only know what it's like playing for $200 a match, with no one watching (mostly), somewhere between small tennis clubs, college campuses and jungle compounds, with no press, no real funding, no team, and only myself to carry that weight of pressure.

I did not have 10 other players fighting my corner to share this with. I did not have an army of coaches helping me, conditioning me, preparing me every day. I did not have 70 million people at home cheering me on. At 535 in the world, you are largely alone.

That, too, is pressure.

So when I hear the press in England (also known as the gutter press) putting pressure on English players with nasty headlines, controversial statements and stories designed to stir conflict between players and coaches in the hope it drives ratings, it makes me wonder.

Do the players get affected by this?

Does it make them feel pressured because we have a reputation as a country that can't get it done (also created by the press)?

I think it probably does.

But not because the headlines themselves matter. The headlines simply give the players another outcome to fear.

Which made me realise something.

Pressure isn’t linear to size. Pressure is relative.

A surgeon may feel the same pressure saving a life on the operating table as a footballer taking a penalty for their country, in front of 90,000 people.

The moments aren't equal.

The consequences aren't equal.

But the emotion, at that very time and place can be. That pressure, in that moment, is completely relative.

And unlike pressure, skill can be measured. Skill is fact. It can be trained. Pressure is simply the fear of an outcome that hasn't happened yet. The more attached we become to that outcome, the more pressure we create for ourselves.

Now, the benefit with sport, unlike a surgeon with someone's life in their hands or a free climber with their life on the line, is that while the outcome is ultimately dictated by skill and execution, the biggest obstacle to executing that skill is often fear itself.

Fear doesn't improve execution. It only distracts from it.

The pass is still there. The shot is still there. The tackle is still there.

The only thing fear changes is your willingness to take the risk.

As the saying goes, "he's got nothing to lose."

It's an interesting phrase because it reveals something about human psychology. We tend to associate risk with freedom. The less we feel we have to lose, the more willing we are to trust our instincts, play naturally and take chances.

In other words, risk and pressure often move in opposite directions.

The more pressure we feel, the less willing we become to take risks.

Ironically, that's why players who become obsessed with avoiding failure often end up creating it. They stop taking risks. They choose the safe option. They hesitate. They begin playing not to lose instead of playing to win.

That's what England did in the World Cup semi-final.

The greatest players seem to understand something different.

They don't become fearless because they care less.

They become fearless because they've accepted they cannot control the outcome, and continue to take risks.

As Thomas Tuchel (England Manager), my only instruction to the players at 1-0 would be: take more risk.

But what do I know?

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