A majority of our personal drive is rooted in impressing or beating the accomplishments of other individuals. We develop role models from a young age as a vehicle for this ambition. It often begins with entertainment icons, such as athletes or rock stars, seeming deceptively glittery because of superficial fame mixed with our youthful naivety.
At one point in my life, I would have told you Allen Iverson was my role model. While I still respect him for certain accomplishments, a turning point of maturity forced me to realign what a role model was and who was worth having as one.
At the close of adolescence, my role models became within reach. These role models, only an email away, included those doing a more professional, lucrative transformation of what I was doing or wanted to be doing in business.
After a period of time, I realized my role models and I were on the same track, just a few laps ahead. I wondered if I could just run a little faster…
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What happens when role models become peers?
You could seek new role models. There is something intriguing about constantly admiring someone so out of reach that the opportunity of rubbing shoulders is unlikely. The fairytale distance can be seductive and equally motivational in reaching big, ambitious goals. Within the same argument, others might claim that if a role model can realistically become a peer, you aren’t reaching high enough. Who wants to join the club that will accept them as a member, anyway?
You could remain a disciple to your role model, making him feel comfortably superior. While from an outsider’s perspective it may seem that you’ve reached an intellectual limit, there may be more to gain by appearing less aggressive than him. If you aren’t explicitly running ahead of the role model, his guard is down. The dilemma is that without a power strategy, there is a ceiling. With awareness and manipulation of the superiority complex, you are still controlling the chess board.
Finally, you could ignore the level playing field and approach the situation with your arms swinging. Maybe this is what we’re all fighting for: to box in the same ring as our idols. Fuck making friends, just stiff arm them to the end zone.