ANTs Will Inherit the Earth (If You Let Them)

So the ANTs will inherit the Earth (if you let them).

OK, so for a change, I’m failing to be witty in my title.

No wait—I’m never witty. I’m never humorous. I am the least funny sport psychology consultant, aka Certified Mental Trainer®, on Earth. Why would I even attempt humor to get a point across?

Even my kids think I lack a complete sense of humor. I might just be the most serious, unfunny person on the planet—maybe even the universe.

Maybe this is a good place to take a breath. A few deep breaths, from the diaphragm. Because I’m dangerously close to scrapping this post, dragging it to the recycle bin, and hitting “Empty.”

But if I do that, I miss a shot at helping someone who's overwhelmed by ANTs and might be missing out on real opportunities. So, I’m taking a chance and keeping the title. After all, some people do laugh at my stories when I’m speaking.

I’ve had more clients laugh than cry in my office (though there is a certain sport that tends to bring more tears—I’ll let you guess which). Even one or two of my sons have had milk come out of their noses because of something I said. Maybe that means I don’t qualify for the “Mr. Unfunny Person in the Universe” award after all.

An ANT is an Automatic Negative Thought.

We have them all the time. The most ridiculous things pop into our heads, and we accept them as truth. Why? Because they’re our thoughts. No one’s there to argue with them. They bubble up from who-knows-where—unconscious fears, associations, insecurities—and we buy in.

Even when the thought makes us sad, mad, nervous, or like everything’s out of control… we still believe it.

Most of the time, we don’t even realize we had the thought. (This, by the way, is a great reason to journal—but that’s for another post.) Research shows we have over 60,000 thoughts per day. We can’t pay attention to them all, but we react to many of them without even noticing.

That becomes a problem. Especially for athletes. Why let an ANT dictate what you can or can’t do?

Back in my youth, I’d never have learned to dunk a basketball if I believed my ANTs—especially since I didn’t know many six-foot-tall 17-year-olds in my neighborhood who could dunk either.

Step 1: Notice the Feeling. Name the Thought.

This is harder than it sounds.

If you’re feeling off—sad, mad, anxious, overwhelmed—pause. Ask yourself: What am I thinking right now?

Write it down. Type it out. This alone is powerful—it helps you clarify the automatic thought that’s fueling the emotion. Often, these thoughts fall into categories like:

Fortune Telling: If I write a funny title and no one laughs, they won’t call me for an appointment. If I play the golf course aggressively, I’ll bogey the par 5 and lose the tournament.

Mind Reading: If I tell a funny story, someone will think I’m stupid—and not hire me.

In one real example, a golfer I work with three-putted from 12 feet while college coaches were watching. Her thought? If I miss this, they’ll think I’m terrible.

That was last week.

Yesterday? She shot a 70—two under par. Her first sub-par round ever. With coaches watching.

Step 2: Dispute the Thought

Now it’s time to talk back.

Channel your inner teenager. (Many of you might still be teenagers.) If you’re anything like I was, you occasionally talked back to your parents when you didn’t like what they said. Use that same defiant voice to challenge your ANT.

You have a 12-foot putt for birdie. You just hit a great shot. You’ve practiced this. You can roll this putt in.

Break down the thought. Show yourself the lie.

When we dispute our ANTs, we get back to the present moment—and performance lives in the NOW. Not in your fears about the future. Not in someone else’s imagined opinion. The now.

Because I know I’ve produced magic from time to time. And because milk has mysteriously shot out of all of my sons’ noses at least once.

So maybe—maybe—I’m not Robin Williams, Eddie Murphy, or even Lenny Bruce… but maybe I can pull off a smile here and there.

And if that’s true, then my original thought—that I’m the least funny person in the universe—can’t be entirely true.

And if it’s not all true... it’s not real.

So I’ll keep the title. Go for a small smile. Maybe even play a decent round of golf.

Hold on. Let’s not get delusional here. One last thing. About ten years ago I moved to Texas. Soon after I had my first experience being bitten by Fire Ants. Turns out I’m allergic and the bites swell and scar. I’ve a few bites from almost ten years ago that are still visable. Seems ANT’s can leave a long impression if you fail to remind yourself who you really are.