Why weren’t Tomic and Kyrgios taught resilience?

TOMIC seems to be the product of low behavioural expectations and self-absorption. He — and Kyrgios — could have done with being told when to pull their heads in, writes David Penberthy.

Bernard Tomic was the first contestant to walk out of the jungle in Channel 10’s I'm A Celebrity Get Me Out Of Here. (Pic: Supplied)

CAN someone explain this?

How is it that we live in an age where the concept of resilience is taught through self-help programs, in our workplaces by specially-trained human resources executives, and incorporated into the school curriculum via health and wellness classes yet, as a society, we appear to be less resilient than ever?

One hundred years ago, the youth of Australia faced the confronting reality of wartime conscription, bringing with it the highly probable result of being killed in some European paddock. A pretty bracing concept, you would have thought.

Fast-forward a century and we have got the likes of Bernard Tomic having a nationally televised meltdown on account of a torturous childhood that involved playing tennis a bit more frequently than he would have preferred.

Don’t get me wrong, I know people who have suffered from mental illnesses and am certainly not advocating a return to the bad old days when everyone who was struggling was simply told to harden up and sort themselves out.

And just to be clear, none of this is an attempt to knock Tomic nor ridicule his claim to be suffering from depression. I have no doubt that the bloke is troubled to some degree, and that his sudden exit from that dopey reality show on Channel 10 represented a genuine “flight” moment, as he panicked and bolted in a bid to sort himself out.

Bernard Tomic has regularly generated headlines, but it’s often for his off-court antics. (Pic: Michael Klein)

Indeed, in the course of the past week, I’ve gone from regarding Tomic as nothing more than a ho-hum tennis player and a bit of a sook to being someone who deserves a bit of sympathy as he tries to clear his head. What really puzzles me is how he landed himself in this mess in the first place.

Much has been made of Tomic’s upbringing, the fact that his childhood was not really a childhood at all but a relentless training exercise as his pushy dad tried to turn his tiny lad into a Wimbledon champ.

Then there are Tomic’s own off-court dramas, hooning around in that ludicrous orange sports car, and his brashness about “counting his millions” in the face of another failed return to the game.

He has never been someone you would describe as likeable — along with the abrasive Nick Kyrgios, he is someone with the rare ability to tempt patriotic, sports-obsessed Aussies to start barracking for the guy at the other end of the court.

Tomic seems to be the inevitable product of an environment characterised by two things: a lack of behavioural expectations and an unchecked culture of self-absorption. Like Kyrgios, you get the sense that no-one has ever told Tomic to shut up and pull his head in.

Further, because his childhood was so bent out of shape on account of his imposed sporting obligations, maybe he never developed genuine friendships with other blokes. There is nothing like the levelling power of a good mate to take you down a peg or two and stop you from believing your own BS.

Bernard Tomic and Nick Kyrgios have more than tennis in common — they have both demonstrated brattish behaviour. (Pic: Tracey Nearmy)

You get the impression with these guys that they were instead given nothing but positive reinforcement when what they really needed was an occasional boot up the arse.

When their brattish behaviour carried into adulthood, the die was cast. And the lives that young men such as Tomic and Kyrgios lead on social media are marked by a sense of smugness, where any valid criticism of their conduct is dismissed with moronic and misspelt catchcries of the “haters-gonna-hate” variety, probably topped off with an LMFAO.

The lesson from a blunter and less politically correct era is that you acquire genuine resilience by learning to go without, by hearing the word “no”, by being told that you don’t know everything, and being punished when you do the wrong thing.

People like Tomic were never taught resilience in that old-fashioned sense. They were set up to fail by being allowed to get their way, by being spoiled, by having their shortcomings ignored and misdemeanours excused, by being told they were great when they were only actually good.

The final point I would make is that this week should scotch once and for all any suggestion that reality-TV is equipped with either a moral compass or a duty of care. For all their baseless psychobabble about the personal growth of the contestants as they embark on their journey, it is, in reality, only a short stroll from The Elephant Man to what passes for entertainment on many of these programs.

They identify people who they regard as freaks or flakes, hoping the rest of us will get sucked into watching the car crash.

Tomic was only picked to go into the jungle because they knew he would probably have a meltdown. And melt down he did, in one of the ratings triumphs of the summer.

Originally published as Why weren’t Tomic and Kyrgios taught resilience?