In my world, there are people who have an unreasonable confidence in their ability to do anything that inspires them, people like me, people who have a bright idea and think, “that’s something I’d love to do!”, even though we have neither the experience nor the expertise to make it happen.
A reflection by Danny Schweers for June 14, 2026.
An unreasonable confidence in one’s abilities could easily be called the Habitat for Humanity Syndrome. Because I volunteered at Habitat for years, I began to think I could do anything around the house. At Habitat, I installed a water heater, helped frame a wall, nailed down a roof, painted the entire inside of a house in one night with two friends, and even led a hundred volunteers to raise all the money needed for materials and then build a three-bedroom dwelling in a week. What blessings those successful efforts were! Even the setbacks were fun because so many others shared my inspiration and were there with me, hammers in hand.
A better name for unreasonable confidence is to call it the Plimpton Syndrome, after George Plimpton.
Plimpton was known to a sophisticated few as one of the founders of The Paris Review, the high-brow literary journal he edited from 1953 until his death in 2003. But it was his sports writing in the 1960s, ’70s, and ’80s that made him a best-selling author and media celebrity. Specifically, it was his unreasonable confidence that he could boldly participate in any professional sport and live to write about it. He found a large audience for his books, writing that often poked fun at himself, a flailing amateur among seasoned professionals, an intellectual effete falling on his face and getting up again, low comedy delivered with a patrician accent.
According to the New York Times, “Mr. Plimpton believed that it was not enough for writers of nonfiction to simply observe; they needed to immerse themselves in whatever they were covering to understand fully what was involved.”
Plimpton stepped into boxing rings, onto football fields, baseball diamonds, professional golf tournaments, hockey rinks, Las Vegas stages, played with symphony orchestras, and swung above a net in a high-wire circus act. He authored more than fifteen books and appeared in more than thirty films, including Lawrence of Arabia (1962), Rio Lobo (1970), and Good Will Hunting (1997). His self-deprecating humor as a cultured elite taking on unlikely roles served him well all his life.
People who are unreasonably confident often do well even if their lives are troubled.
As someone who suffers from Plimpton Syndrome, I often find myself inspired to take on roles I have no real training or talent for. I start out perfectly confident, at least at first. In situations where someone has to step up, I boldly raise my hand. Then I get in trouble. It helps to be able to make fun of myself!
If I can be serious for a moment, let me say, with much experience getting in over my head, that unreasonable self-confidence is actually quite reasonable when it is more than confidence in one’s own abilities. Such confidence can be based on a bedrock faith that things will turn out well, not only because one is confident that friends and colleagues will be there for support, but also because the universe welcomes our efforts and every mistake can be redeemed. As a Christian, I say that God wants us to be bold, to follow where inspiration leads.
To be bold, let me finish by saying that it is not enough for us to simply observe; we need to immerse ourselves in life to understand fully what is involved.
What opportunities will open before us today? Possibilities large or small will entice us. We can be bold in pursuing them — and still retain our sense of humor when we fall on our faces. When we get knocked down, we can get up again smiling at our own audacity. The audience laughs but wants us to succeed.
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Reflection 2026-09 by Danny Nelson Schweers. Danny chairs SsAM’s Communication Committee. He is an active photographer and writer. When he was briefly the managing editor of Image Journal, George Plimpton advised him over the telephone, not about writing but about how literary publications do not need libel insurance just to please nervous lawyers. Click here to visit Danny’s website and make a comment.
