10 years of playing Smash Bros competitively. This period of time has been so important to me—friends, experiences, community. All throughout, I was never trying to be the best. I don’t know what it is, but I couldn’t convince myself I could be the best. On a purely theoretical note, I know I could be. I know anyone could be. I have never been “that guy”, though. I don’t know why, but that’s why I want to explore this. As of writing, I’ve now officially been playing in Smash tournaments for 10 years. I won a few small tournaments when I was clearly one of the favorites, if not the clear favorite, to win. I got wins that were impressive. I’ve even been ranked 4th on a multi-region PR—4th in Northern Colorado right before COVID. RIP pre-patch Palutena. All that, but I never won a big tournament as a clear underdog.
I have a mental block to believing I can be the best. I’m not sure why, but it’s something that is ingrained in me. I think it ties into a way to protect myself from rejection and failure—all the negative things that suck to experience.
I’m currently removing myself from Smash. I’ve played for long enough, and while it’s done a lot for me, my interests and the context of the world have moved my attention elsewhere. The small amount of success I ever worked for or achieved took a lot of work on my end, and that is simply not what I want to dedicate my time to anymore. That being said, I do want to understand this part of my life. I don’t want to give up Smash completely; I just can’t dedicate nearly as much time, and when I do decide to play, I don’t want to be horrible.
So here’s my theory. My success in Smash and my strength come from my knowledge. This can make me a wall for certain players who don’t know as much, pure competitive drive is also a factor. I’ve come to understand that talent in Smash comes from different places for different players. Some players lean more on raw competitive drive than knowledge. Some players lean more on knowledge like myself. Everyone uses a combination of both, but people differ on how much they rely on one or the other.
I think something that might help me specifically is boosting my competitive drive. I’ve done it in the past, but I hate the side effects of boosting that drive. I get mad. SOOOOO mad. I need to figure out how to maintain a strong competitive drive and not sink into anger. This is what I plan on sinking a bit of time into, and I’ll articulate my findings.
My initial theories are that I need to detach my self-worth from the results of a match. I think it might be linked to a fear of feeling rejection or failure. I need to learn to accept and maybe even embrace those things. That’s just my initial thought, but we’ll see.
Months later
So… this sat in the back of my mind for a few months. I stopped entering tournaments around mid-September and have only competed in one since, but I specifically didn’t want to go all out, so I stuck to Bayonetta.
Yesterday, I listened to an episode of Tweek Talks where he mentioned his mentality when going into competition. Tweek articulated that he already thinks he is the best in the room and that thinking anything else is not worthwhile. Failure is contextualized as not proving you’re the best to others. He said a lot of things that helped me understand the mentality of a top player, and one of my favorite things he said was “delusion is wonderful.”
With all that swirling in my brain, and a huge desire to play some Bayonetta, I hopped on Elite Smash. Truly a desperate moment. I went in with a level of delusion and self-confidence, just trying to emulate what Tweek spoke about, and wow. I noticed a change instantly. I rolled my first few opponents and then had some really good matches that always felt competitive. Even when I lost, I was playing decently well. I felt the power—the power of confidence. Simply believing you are capable of winning is such a boost that you can’t even start to hit those higher levels without it. You’d have to be a robot to do it otherwise.
I also wasn’t getting super upset when I lost. I’m not sure what directly led to this change, but I’m trying to distance myself from my performance, and I think having that increased sense of self-worth—just believing I’m good at the game—is also a boost.
My flaws
I’m a super logical person obsessed with having correct views on reality. This is a strength in many ways. It keeps me from delusion, or at least I think it does. I don’t care what I want to be true; I just want to know what is true. My personal desire doesn’t impact fact. This mentality is really harmful for competition. I think it makes me super limited in my goals. “I should beat them” turns into massive disappointment when I don’t. “I shouldn’t beat them” turns into defeat from the word go. While thinking I should beat someone can be helpful and has allowed me to stay rather consistent, it’s been at the expense of growth.
The new goal
Smash isn’t a huge priority anymore for me, but I still want to compete when I have an itch and the time. I think my goal is to develop a healthy, moldable ego that inspires self-confidence and fuels me to reach my max potential. I can beat anyone. I am a good player. A loss doesn’t change that. I can be objective when necessary, but am I even being objective if I’m not performing at my peak? I think this will require a buildup of self-worth and confidence—self-love and compassion. Maybe even a bit of delusion. The human mind is a fascinating thing. We are able to convince ourselves of things with no evidence. I’ve always fought against that, but now I must learn to embrace it.
When I look at the elite or even close-to-elite Smash players I’ve known, all of them did possess a level of delusion, and Tweek’s statement fits that view. Your mindset is an important part of the equation, so don’t let it fail you before the match even starts.
This is easier said than done. This isn’t something you grind in training mode. This is a mind exercise that borders on mental health therapy—but that tracks. A lot of what I’ve explored as a competitor has been mental health, and that continues to remain true.
I’m working on it. This is an ongoing process, like many things regarding mental health. It’s not going to be solved. This is a lifelong project, and internalizing that, for me, has proven harder than any tech you can practice.
Bernard Lamar Rice 