Roger Federer won almost 80% of the 1,526 singles matches he played as a professional. He won only 54% of the points.
Let that sink in. A man with 20 Grand Slam titles and 310 weeks ranked number one in the world lost nearly half the points he played. (In baseball, failing 70% of the time at the plate can get you into the Hall of Fame.)
During his 2024 commencement address at Dartmouth College, Federer explained why that statistic matters. In tennis, you must give everything to the point you’re playing. Once that point is over, win or lose, you have to move on. Whether you hit an incredible winner or made an embarrassing mistake, neither should dictate how you approach the next point.
As he put it, “When you’re playing a point, it is the most important thing in the world. But the truth is, whatever game you play in life, sometimes you’re going to lose.”
His comments caused me to think about something much bigger than tennis.
How often do we allow yesterday to determine what we’re willing to attempt today?
We’ve all experienced failure. A bad decision, a missed opportunity, a relationship that didn’t work, or an effort that fell short of expectations.
Those experiences can teach us valuable lessons but can also convince us that trying again isn’t worth the risk. We begin anticipating failure before we’ve even started.
Failure whispers, “Don’t try that again.”
Interestingly, success can create a similar problem. When something has worked well in the past, we can become convinced it will always work. We stop questioning assumptions, resist new approaches, and gradually become complacent.
When I first started warning about dangerous opioid prescribing and the need for a biopsychosocial treatment model, I heard the whispers. “We’ve always done it this way.” Polypharmacy was routine. Claims were financial transactions.
Success whispers, “Don’t change anything.”
Now think about an injured worker who has had a terrible workers’ compensation experience, or watched a coworker go through one. Perhaps an adjuster didn’t return phone calls to explain why the indemnity check was late. Maybe a physician dismissed legitimate concerns. It’s possible the employee felt like everyone involved was more interested in closing the claim than helping them recover.
Now that employee suffers another workplace injury.
Before the first appointment or conversation with an adjuster, they’ve already decided what will happen. Nobody will listen to them or believe them. They know for certain (because of their past experience) that everyone is looking for a way to take advantage of them.
That isn’t necessarily an unreasonable reaction. Their distrust may have been earned. Psychologist Michael Sullivan’s research calls it perceived injustice, and it’s linked to longer work disability.
Their distrust may have been earned through painful experience that has created perceived injustice which research links to longer work disability. As I wrote recently, distrust doesn’t begin with the denial.
But what happened previously can become an obstacle to what might be possible today.
We cannot expect someone to trust us because we tell them this time will be different. We must demonstrate it.
That means returning phone calls, explaining decisions, listening without immediately becoming defensive, and treating the injured worker as a person rather than a claim number. Consistency builds credibility, which creates opportunities for trust, which can influence someone’s willingness to participate in recovery.
We increasingly recognize that social determinants of health – things like financial stability, housing, access to healthcare, medical literacy, and social support – can influence recovery.
The same is true of adverse childhood experiences, commonly called ACEs. The term came from a groundbreaking 1998 research paper, “Relationship of Childhood Abuse and Household Dysfunction to Many of the Leading Causes of Death in Adults.” Childhood abuse, neglect, household instability, and other traumatic experiences can have lasting effects on how people respond to stress, perceive threats, develop relationships, and manage adversity.
An injured worker doesn’t shed that history before entering the workplace. Someone who has experienced repeated betrayal may struggle to trust authority figures. Someone who grew up with instability may perceive uncertainty about benefits or employment as especially threatening. Those are responses shaped by experience, not character flaws.
Regardless of their source, risk factors are not destiny.
People demonstrate extraordinary resilience, especially when they have meaningful support, appropriate resources, and relationships that help restore a sense of safety and control.
Our responsibility isn’t to diagnose someone’s childhood or investigate their personal history. Instead, we need to recognize that every injured worker arrives with experiences we may know nothing about, but that will affect their resilience, recovery, and (for those who care about the bottom line) the total cost of a claim.
Federer’s point isn’t that yesterday doesn’t matter. It matters enormously.
His failures helped him improve. His victories demonstrated what was possible. But neither could win the next point for him.
I think there’s an important lesson here for everyone involved in work comp.
A difficult previous claim doesn’t guarantee another difficult experience for an injured worker. Recovery may still be possible, even when the path forward looks different from what they expected.
For claims professionals and clinicians, an injured worker who has been distrustful, angry, or disengaged isn’t necessarily destined to remain that way. Our next interaction may be an opportunity to change the relationship by proving that we are worthy of their trust.
None of this means ignoring legitimate trauma or pretending failure didn’t hurt. Positive thinking doesn’t overcome every obstacle. It simply means refusing to confuse a prediction with a certainty.
We can’t change what happened yesterday. However, we can learn from it, acknowledge its influence, and make better choices because of it.
Somewhere in your caseload today is an injured worker who already expects to be ignored. The next call you return is the next point.
Their past is a lesson. It doesn’t have to be a life sentence.
