Summary
Seductive job titles come with daunting job descriptions. You may not bargain for the pain that comes with roles.

Hardik Pandya is one of the most valuable all-rounders in international cricket today. If you don’t follow cricket, let it suffice to know that Pandya is a player who has two strings to his bow. He can win you matches while whacking the ball to all corners, turning his arm over, and bowling a few snorters to a batter’s head. He had some luck in the recent T20 World Cup final, but as I like to say, it’s usually skilful people who get lucky. 

Years from now, though, people will remember Pandya collapsing to the ground after that win and being in tears right after India became the T20 champions. Yes, some were tears of joy, but some came because this win was his redemption story. The preceding few months hadn’t been kind to this superstar.

Many of you know this backstory. Pandya had made a name for himself as captain of the Gujarat Titans. He won the title in the team’s first season, and the franchise ended as runners-up in their second season, i.e. 2023. But then, Pandya got a job offer that promised to elevate him to cricketing royalty. Mumbai Indians, a franchise that the wealthiest people in India own, asked Pandya to join them as captain. Well, Pandya did what most of us would do. He took the job. Why wouldn’t he? Money, fame, and prestige are all part of being a Mumbai captain.

But it was downhill from that point. Pandya was replacing a much-loved captain - Rohit Sharma. Rohit was India’s captain in all three formats of the game. How could Pandya replace him? While this was his second stint at Mumbai Indians, Pandya was also an outsider by now. The team had two other players who’d been India captains - Suryakumar Yadav (SKY) and Jasprit Bumrah. They’re also the world’s number one batter and bowler, respectively. The fans didn’t take this well. To them, Hardik was a usurper who’d stolen the mantle from the captain they loved. They booed him everywhere he went. Even when Hardik went to play in Gujarat, the jeering followed. His fans from the Titans felt that he’d betrayed their franchise. 

It didn’t help that Mumbai finished last on the table that season. They lost 10 of their 14 matches despite a bunch of decent, individual performances. From being hot property, Hardik Pandya had become the IPL’s favourite pantomime villain.

In Greek mythology, there’s a similar story. A young man called Icarus was trapped on the island of Crete with his father, Daedalus. Daedalus was a master craftsman, so he fashioned Icarus a pair of wings made of feathers and wax. Before Icarus took flight, though, his father warned him not to fly too close to the sun. After all, the sun’s heat would melt the wax that held the wings together. When Icarus took flight, however, he got excited by the thrill of flight and soared higher with each flap. Eventually, he got too close to the sun. The wax melted, and Icarus plunged into the sea and drowned.

You can see how Pandya was a bit like Icarus. He was already the country’s number-one seam-bowling all-rounder. As an IPL-winning captain, he was already soaring high. You can’t blame him for choosing to soar even higher with Mumbai Indians. Much like Icarus, though, he may have gotten too close to the sun.

So, why am I recounting these stories? Well, I think there’s a cautionary tale for us all. Hardik Pandya did the logical thing. He chose a seemingly seductive job. But modern sport is brutal. The job has probably been awful for his mental health. 

Our jobs occupy about a third of our lives. Naturally, we’re ambitious about how we spend that time. I wonder, though, if we should pay attention to the costs of that ambition. In recent years, I’ve been asking myself the following questions about each potential work role I can play.

• How much work-life-balance will I enjoy?

• How will the job help me learn something new?

• What transferable skills will I pick up from the role?

• What impact will the role have on my mental health?

• How much corporate politics will I have to deal with?

• What’s the risk-reward ratio? How high is the job-security in the role?

• How resilient is the team? Will I have the freedom to take breaks when I need them?

I’ve often found that the sexier the job title, the more painful the job description is. As a father of two, who’s always making up for lost time, I’m wary of Faustian bargains. I’d rather sacrifice my career ambitions than regret losing out on the things that matter more to me - family, love, friendships, peace of mind, and time out in the wilderness. And I’ll be honest, I haven’t always got my choices right. Sometimes I’ve made the best compromise that was available. I keep trying to make better choices, though.

The trade off you make will depend on where you are in life and how much work means to you. Here’s what I’ll say in conclusion though. Imagine yourself as Icarus and ask yourself where your sun is. Figure out a way to keep flying without getting too close to that sun. Or get yourself wings that aren’t made of wax! You see what I mean?