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On Form
What is being on form? How does it relate to feeling 'in the zone'?
Are these states in the lap of the gods, a matter of which side of the bed we got out of that morning? Or is there anything we can do to make their arrival more likely?
In this fascinating book, former England cricket captain and psychoanalyst Mike Brearley examines many of the elements of being in and out of form across a number of different disciplines - not only in cricket and psychoanalysis but also in finance, music, philosophy, medicine, teaching, tree surgery and drama.
Drawing on his own experiences, both on and off the field, Brearley describes various states of mind, from the conscious determination involved in training and practice through to that almost spiritual state of being 'inspired'. To achieve any level of form requires us to be able to hold different tensions in mind, and to tolerate both ambivalence and ambiguity. Neither form nor creativity can be guaranteed - Brearley illustrates in depth the frequent ways we lose form - though understanding, in a full sense, enables us to make drastic loss of form less likely.
Perceptive and engaging, On Form is an exploration of the benefits and risks of being on form and can help us all reflect on the range of conditions that block or liberate us.
416 pages, Kindle Edition
Published September 7, 2017
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Displaying 1 - 10 of 10 reviews
April 16, 2018
Being really "on form" is a matter of choice, not chance!
Mike Brearley was perhaps the only international cricketer who could walk into his team as “captain”, regardless of whether he could find a place as batsman, such was his mastery over the subtle mental aspects of the game, and his ability to time and again transform a struggling side into one of believers. The fact that he was a Cambridge major, and had become a part time psychoanalyst even while he was playing professional cricket, added to this aura.
Here, Brearley sets out to look at what being “in form” means, and how can one control it, both from a sportsman and from a psychoanalyst’s point of view. He does better explaining the former than the latter. But then that could be because of my lack of any great knowledge of psychoanalysis.
The way he looks at it, Brearley differentiates between being “on form”, and being “in the zone”. He believes that the former is a more deliberate state, which can be worked on, while the role of chance or unexplained actions play a larger role in the latter – such as days when everything you do works. The latter is typically ephemeral. Form also can go up or down, and loss of form can cause anxiety – but he believes that having a solid foundation in whatever one does helps in getting out of a run of poor form. That is the crux of the book – that good foundation is crucial, whether it is technique in a batsman, or calmness in a canoeist, or as a psychoanalyst. The book is full of examples from different walks of life illustrating this point. He also makes a good point that it is easier to fix problems with even a quick fix if the bedrock is strong.
Apart from this core assertion, the rest of the book tends to ramble a bit across many fields, not just other sports (football, canoeing, cycling, Formula 1, all feature) but also literature, the arts and of course psychoanalysis. While the breadth is impressive, it does feel a little all over the place.
But in an illuminating passage towards the end, Brearley looks at what makes a good patient from a psychoanalyst’s point of view i.e. one who is likely to benefit – and states that apart from good technique, the other crucial aspect is when there is an openness to change, an acknowledgement that there is a problem, and a willingness to take some action rather than worried inaction. That does make sense. There is clearly no shortcut in regaining form, whether in sports or in life.
Mike Brearley was perhaps the only international cricketer who could walk into his team as “captain”, regardless of whether he could find a place as batsman, such was his mastery over the subtle mental aspects of the game, and his ability to time and again transform a struggling side into one of believers. The fact that he was a Cambridge major, and had become a part time psychoanalyst even while he was playing professional cricket, added to this aura.
Here, Brearley sets out to look at what being “in form” means, and how can one control it, both from a sportsman and from a psychoanalyst’s point of view. He does better explaining the former than the latter. But then that could be because of my lack of any great knowledge of psychoanalysis.
The way he looks at it, Brearley differentiates between being “on form”, and being “in the zone”. He believes that the former is a more deliberate state, which can be worked on, while the role of chance or unexplained actions play a larger role in the latter – such as days when everything you do works. The latter is typically ephemeral. Form also can go up or down, and loss of form can cause anxiety – but he believes that having a solid foundation in whatever one does helps in getting out of a run of poor form. That is the crux of the book – that good foundation is crucial, whether it is technique in a batsman, or calmness in a canoeist, or as a psychoanalyst. The book is full of examples from different walks of life illustrating this point. He also makes a good point that it is easier to fix problems with even a quick fix if the bedrock is strong.
Apart from this core assertion, the rest of the book tends to ramble a bit across many fields, not just other sports (football, canoeing, cycling, Formula 1, all feature) but also literature, the arts and of course psychoanalysis. While the breadth is impressive, it does feel a little all over the place.
But in an illuminating passage towards the end, Brearley looks at what makes a good patient from a psychoanalyst’s point of view i.e. one who is likely to benefit – and states that apart from good technique, the other crucial aspect is when there is an openness to change, an acknowledgement that there is a problem, and a willingness to take some action rather than worried inaction. That does make sense. There is clearly no shortcut in regaining form, whether in sports or in life.
March 29, 2023
Brearley is a wise, deeply humane man. Educated, empathetic, insightful and I suspect, very kind, he wrote the great 'Art of Captaincy', a book which has a revered place on my dad's bookshelf (for all that he grumbles about Brearley and the 1979 final of the Cricket World Cup). I bought him 'On Form' as a birthday present, and I ended up borrowing it. So much for family history.
'On Form' starts out as a consideration of its title, 'form' here meaning not Platonic or technical forms but the more elusive notion of effortless attainment, those days when we can do no wrong and we play or perform or create with a carefree ease. Such moments are mercurial, enduring for hot streaks or passing in the course of a few hours. Brearley is clear to distinguish between them and the ecstatic conditions in which we are 'outside ourselves' in ways which can prove almost frightening. 'Form', being 'on song', carries with it a calmness and inner confidence. We somehow just 'know' when we are enjoying it.
How then can this condition be evaluated and replicated? Here, Brearley seems to get caught between providing examples of being 'on form' taken from many different sources (literary, artistic, sporting, musical, cinematic, autobiographical) and explaining what form might be and how it operates. The longer the book goes on, the more intangible the issue becomes. The examples are often fascinating in themselves, but they don't cohere to illuminate the central thesis and the book loses its clarity and energy, with some of its observations saved from being platitudinous only by the urbane authority Brearley embodies. This isn't an up-market self-help book for people with postgraduate qualifications from Cambridge, but there are times when it gets perilously close to becoming one.
In all then, 'On Form' is a book better dipped into than read for a compelling central argument. There is a lot of insight and thoughtful writing (especially in the first half), but it seems the attempt to distil a lifetime's wisdom and teaching overstrains the book as a whole, something tacitly admitted in the final chapter. I got a lot of suggestions for further reading and listening from it, but I'm still not sure where form comes from or why it comes and goes so capriciously.
'On Form' starts out as a consideration of its title, 'form' here meaning not Platonic or technical forms but the more elusive notion of effortless attainment, those days when we can do no wrong and we play or perform or create with a carefree ease. Such moments are mercurial, enduring for hot streaks or passing in the course of a few hours. Brearley is clear to distinguish between them and the ecstatic conditions in which we are 'outside ourselves' in ways which can prove almost frightening. 'Form', being 'on song', carries with it a calmness and inner confidence. We somehow just 'know' when we are enjoying it.
How then can this condition be evaluated and replicated? Here, Brearley seems to get caught between providing examples of being 'on form' taken from many different sources (literary, artistic, sporting, musical, cinematic, autobiographical) and explaining what form might be and how it operates. The longer the book goes on, the more intangible the issue becomes. The examples are often fascinating in themselves, but they don't cohere to illuminate the central thesis and the book loses its clarity and energy, with some of its observations saved from being platitudinous only by the urbane authority Brearley embodies. This isn't an up-market self-help book for people with postgraduate qualifications from Cambridge, but there are times when it gets perilously close to becoming one.
In all then, 'On Form' is a book better dipped into than read for a compelling central argument. There is a lot of insight and thoughtful writing (especially in the first half), but it seems the attempt to distil a lifetime's wisdom and teaching overstrains the book as a whole, something tacitly admitted in the final chapter. I got a lot of suggestions for further reading and listening from it, but I'm still not sure where form comes from or why it comes and goes so capriciously.
January 7, 2021
Mike Brearley is best known as the English cricket captain who won back the Ashes in 1981, thanks in
no small part to his exceptional man management skills. Apparently, he's now a "renowned" (maybe someone could explain precisely what this word means?) psychoanalyst.
His first book, "The Art of Captaincy", is the best management book I've ever read, and I keep referring to it and quoting from it more than thirty years after first reading it. But this, written 30 years later, is just not in the same class. It's a mishmash of irrelevant anecdote, poorly presented academic theory and bovine scatology.
It may suffer considerably from not being as "of the moment" as the Art of Captaincy - where most of the anecdotes were based specifically on well known, contemporary sporting figures. Here, for pragmatic reasons, the case studies are either more than a generation old - or are based on individuals who for ethical reasons cannot be identified. It just all feels a bit like stories that are created to emphasize a putative academic theory.
He concludes that we never really know when we are "on form" in any walk of life....and can usually only identify it retrospectively, and can't therefore bottle it up to take a glug of it whenever we feel a bit "off form".
I think I could have told the world that in a lot less than 400 turgid pages.
I just didn't enjoy this book one bit - which is a shame, as I admired Brearley tremendously as a cricketer, what I've seen and heard of him since show him to be a thoroughly decent man, and his previous book was outstanding. But this was just very poor, unfortunately.
no small part to his exceptional man management skills. Apparently, he's now a "renowned" (maybe someone could explain precisely what this word means?) psychoanalyst.
His first book, "The Art of Captaincy", is the best management book I've ever read, and I keep referring to it and quoting from it more than thirty years after first reading it. But this, written 30 years later, is just not in the same class. It's a mishmash of irrelevant anecdote, poorly presented academic theory and bovine scatology.
It may suffer considerably from not being as "of the moment" as the Art of Captaincy - where most of the anecdotes were based specifically on well known, contemporary sporting figures. Here, for pragmatic reasons, the case studies are either more than a generation old - or are based on individuals who for ethical reasons cannot be identified. It just all feels a bit like stories that are created to emphasize a putative academic theory.
He concludes that we never really know when we are "on form" in any walk of life....and can usually only identify it retrospectively, and can't therefore bottle it up to take a glug of it whenever we feel a bit "off form".
I think I could have told the world that in a lot less than 400 turgid pages.
I just didn't enjoy this book one bit - which is a shame, as I admired Brearley tremendously as a cricketer, what I've seen and heard of him since show him to be a thoroughly decent man, and his previous book was outstanding. But this was just very poor, unfortunately.
January 22, 2018
I have never seen more than 30 seconds of cricket at a time, and I am not too interested in Freud's theories. So why did this book written by the England's cricket captain and psychoanalyst Mike Brearley became one of my favorite books? I guess it has to do with its earnestess and heart. The author writes with a unique flair about his personal experiences. There is also an honest desire to learn from everybody else around him about good "form", and a humble intention to pass that wisdom along. But the book doesn't really have a main thesis or a clear structure, as it takes us from a wide range of topics and situations, even some surprisingly touching insights about the demons inside of all of us that can prevent us from reaching that form we aspire.
My favorite self-help book, if you can call it that. Maybe in a re-read I will learn a few cricket terms so that some of the stories make more sense.
My favorite self-help book, if you can call it that. Maybe in a re-read I will learn a few cricket terms so that some of the stories make more sense.
July 6, 2018
An intellectually rewarding book that should be read multiple times. Form is not just for professional athletes, but for all of us, whether we play a sport or not. My only complaint was that it was a bit too digressive for my liking, something that the author addresses in the second-to-last chapter (which is about the writing of this book)
August 30, 2018
Some good insights as one would expect from the master tactician. And probably the clearest is that there is no simple answer. But like a lot of things, it's important to pull things apart to see how they fit together.
October 26, 2018
Insightful book about what it is like for sportspeople/performers to be 'in the zone' and 'off-form'. Really enjoyable read.
July 2, 2021
Abandoned for now. May finish some day. Too few colourful examples.
January 23, 2023
A lot more psychology than I expected from previous works of his, but insightful nonetheless.
It needs 2023 update about Bazball though....
It needs 2023 update about Bazball though....
October 10, 2023
I really liked this, but it is structured more as a selection of essays than anything else. Worth knowing if you are intending to read it.
Displaying 1 - 10 of 10 reviews