Imagine this: the wind is cold and piercing as you ski through powder. Your heart is racing as you move your weight, dancing with the pull of gravity. Skiers eat adrenaline for breakfast. What are comfort zones? Who needs them? Snow isn't only chilly; it's a chance. Every fall, a new chapter in the story stacks up, chairlift by chairlift. One skier I knew swore by oatmeal and bad luck. Before he launched, he would touch his left glove three times. Whatever works. Later, with legs like spaghetti, you enjoy hot cocoa and trade stories of dramatic wipeouts with your friends. There are no medals, only laughs and bruises. More on Adam McManus Etobicoke
Change the scenario. Diving goes down into the blue. At 30 feet below the surface, the silence is nothing short of spellbinding. Water changes how things move and slows down time. Even when you see a flash of sapphire, breathing through a regulator feels strangely steady. A fish called a parrotfish. Forget about your issues and count bubbles instead. Are you scared? Of course, everyone feels it before they roll back. But suddenly your curiosity wins out over your worries, and you join the world down under. One diver once said, "I stumble above water." I fly below. The ocean's mood changes from calm waves to angry waves, which keeps things interesting.
Walk onto a tennis court on a sweltering July day. With a racket in your hand and sweat on your forehead, every point is a miniature battle. Tennis has a rhythm that goes like this: dash, stop, swing, and recover. Power vs. finesse. That old wooden seat, which is worn and discolored, has seen both champions and mistakes. There are fights over missed lines, but most matches end with big smiles and lots of sweat. The smooth thud of a ball on a string is music to some people and a terror to others. Depending on which side you're on, a slice along the line can feel like poetry or tragedy. Once, my serve hit the pickleball court next to us. Still, applause.
Let's add money to the mix. Sometimes markets are messier than sports, and not always ruthless. People look at charts, looking for patterns like modern miners looking for digital gold. When green candlesticks appear, you're happy; when red floods the screen, you're sad. Some people swear by complicated math, while others swear by vague feelings. "Buy the dip," they say, but they wince when the dips keep going down. A ninety-year-old urging you, "Just hold; patience pays" can be the best advise you get. Like tennis, money punishes people who hesitate but rewards people who stay cool.
There are connections all over the place when you go between sports and money. Both require taking risks, being quick on your feet (sometimes literally), and a little bit of luck. You can walk onto a slope, a court, or a trading floor with nothing but optimism and come back with stories you never imagined coming. The ball bounces in a strange way. Markets are shaky. Wipeouts do happen. But it's all about coming back—skis strapped on, racket strung, and wallet ready for another round. And maybe next time you can attempt a different superstition.