Before anyone accuses me of unsolicited psychoanalysis of Kristóf Milák, let me clarify: the post’s title is a quote. In a 2023 interview, the swimmer described his younger self with these exact words.
Understanding Introversion in a High-Pressure World
Contrary to popular belief, introversion and extroversion are not solely about being sociable or reserved. An introvert often gets overstimulated more quickly than an extrovert—not just by people, but by external stimuli in general. Unlike extroverts, who gain energy from external activity, introverts may find such stimulation draining.
Let’s talk about stimuli for a moment—just for context. Studies show that smoking cannabis can reduce IQ by 5%, and interruptions like phone calls or emails during a task reduce effectiveness by 10%. Constant notifications from social media can reduce focus and performance by as much as 20–30%. And these are average figures. For someone with a lower stimulus threshold—like many introverts—the impact can be even greater.
The constant influx of alerts, updates, and information in our daily lives chips away at our ability to focus, think, and perform. In such a mentally overloaded state, it’s impossible to operate at peak performance—let alone achieve world records or Olympic medals. To give our best, we often need to shut out all distractions and be fully present with the task at hand.
Why Athletes Owe Us Nothing but Their Best Effort
I watched Kristóf Milák win Olympic gold on a friend’s phone screen during the last few minutes of a Traviata intermission at the opera. That friend, a music journalist, turned to me and said:
“As a journalist, I was disappointed when [a prominent Hungarian musician] told me he never gives interviews, not to anyone. But I get it. He didn’t owe me that. So I wrote an article instead. He liked it.”
That memory came to mind when I read Késely Ajna’s recent statement. After giving a raw, moving interview right after her preliminary race, she later felt the need to explain herself:
“My interview wasn’t meant to be an excuse or to shift responsibility. It wasn’t even a message. It’s just that we’re obligated to speak to the press when the mic is in our face—even with swirling emotions.”
I once spoke with an opera singer who, after a highly successful jump-in at a class A theatre, was contacted by four of the top agencies in the business. At her first meeting, one of the four agents said dismissively:
“Surely you don’t expect to be taken seriously with only 350 Instagram followers?”
Performance and Authenticity in the Age of Instant Access
What saddens me in both Ajna’s and the opera singer’s stories is the underlying assumption that visibility is a duty. But it isn’t. Whether you’re a swimmer or a soprano, it is your right to speak—or not to speak. You can choose to share your emotions immediately, or wait. Or never share them at all.
Each choice has its pros and cons. The crucial thing is: the choice belongs to the performer.
If an athlete has a responsibility, it’s this (and even here, the word responsibility feels too heavy): to give their best, within the bounds of their physical and mental capacity that day. A musician’s job is to make music. The pressure of always being available, visible, and “on” doesn’t serve anyone.
The “Difficult” Ones Who Just Might Lead the Way
Kristóf Milák said in the same 2023 interview:
“It’s my dumb head—my difficult personality—that pushes me forward. This withdrawn, stubborn, focused, forward-thinking, perfectionist mindset gives me comfort and a sense of safety. It’s just me, and I block out the world.”
In another interview, he added with a smile—so gently it almost hurt:
“It’s much easier to swim well than to come across as lovable.”
His recent victory was especially moving to me and my journalist friend because it confirmed something powerful: that you can succeed without bending to expectations. That you can reach your goal on your own terms. Just like Késely Ajna, who may not have won a medal but moved and inspired many with her humility and emotional honesty.
Imagine a World Where Silence Is Respected
I dream of a world where no athlete feels guilty for speaking—or for staying silent.
In fact, I dream of a world where no one feels bad for expressing or withholding emotion. Where we listen, without judgment. Where we respect someone’s choice to share—or not.
Where a 22-year-old triple Olympian knows that giving an interview is not an obligation, but an option.
Where an opera singer isn’t judged by the number of Instagram followers.
Where a driven, perfectionist introvert doesn’t feel that his “dumb head” makes him unlovable or difficult.
Thank you, Kristóf.
Sőt, tovább megyek: olyan világon tudnék élni, és olyan világot próbálok magam körül teremteni, ahol senki nem érzi rosszul magát azért, mert nyilatkozik vagy azért, mert hallgat. Ahol őszinte, érző figyelemmel meghallgatjuk az embert, ahelyett, hogy ítélkeznénk, ha megosztja velünk egy-egy gondolatát. Ahol tiszteletben tartjuk, ha egyáltalán nem, vagy nem épp velünk szeretné a gondolatait, érzéseit megosztani.
Ahol egy húszonkét éves tripla (!) olimpikon tudja, hogy nem kötelessége, hanem lehetősége van interjút adni.
Ahol egy operaénekes teljesítményét nem az instagram-követők számában mérjük.
Ahol ez a lelkes, szeretetéhes introvertált srác nem érzi, hogy a hülye feje (azaz maximalista, céltudatos hozzáállása) miatt ő nehezen kezelhető vagy nem szerethető.
Köszönöm, Kristóf.
