DOES the name Roz Savage mean anything to you? I confess I was unaware of her until a month ago.

Just as this year’s Britain’s Got Talent finalists were limbering up for their night of glory, the 46 year-old Londoner came ashore in Papua New Guinea after becoming the first woman to row solo across the Pacific Ocean, having covered more than 6,000 miles in a 23-foot boat – an outstanding achievement.

A couple of weeks later, only hours after England’s maligned soccer players had struggled to pluck humiliation out of the jaws of defeat, I had the privilege of spending an inspiring summer evening at a concert at the Jersey Music Academy’s headquarters at Château Vermont in St Saviour, given by members of the visiting Chetham’s Music College and a talented group of local young musicians.

And yes, it did contain works with a certain inevitable German influence.
During their visit, they played in public concerts, provided master-classes at local schools and shared music-making with Island kids keen for a higher level of skills and musical accomplishment.

I mention these contrasting examples of achievement as a prologue to asking why athletes, performers and entrepreneurs put themselves through varying levels of hardship and scrutiny to achieve their goals, what motivates them, and how their achievements are valued.

We have seen only too vividly how today’s heroes can become tomorrow’s failures. More often than not, it’s the fate of those for whom expectations – often unrealistic – are manipulated by the headline writers.

So the fans may have been incandescent, but the failure of the England players to advance through the ranks of the World Cup was a disappointment waiting to happen. The structure and management of English football ensures that the manager of the national side and the lads themselves are condemned to play figuratively with their legs tied behind their backs. Yet despite the odds, we pledge flag-waving loyalty in the hope that they will prevail.

Though we may frequently be forced to bite our lip when the home side is in the frame, there is no question that deep down, we’re all signed up to the Darwinian doctrine which pays homage to the fittest and best.

It all begins with identifying an inner spark, be it physical agility, a clear artistic passion or inner enthusiasm which acts as a driving force.

It develops through perseverance, application and endeavour. Hours are spent practising in the music studio or on the athletics track to pit individual talent against others who have trained selflessly, often alone, to fulfil a passion or achieve a personal objective or national acclamation.

But what is the nature of the achievement they crave? Is it wealth, the pursuit of happiness, recognition? What drove Tim Henman, for example, to try over and over again for the Wimbledon crown which for ever eluded him?

Cynics would have you believe that money is the prime motivator. Money can turn into idolatry and displace all other motives. Not surprisingly, it is in the world of entertainment that the cash – if not necessarily the talent – resides, and it’s the one which tempts most who seek fortune and approbation.

TV shows such as Britain’s Got Talent, which have spawned a plethora of writhing groups of prepubescent fame-seekers, can at least throw up spellbinding acts worthy of armchair hyperbole. Instant fame is indeed available, but it comes at a price. When these ‘talent’ shows degenerate into a cynical set-up of abject cruelty by subjecting the naïve and star-struck to ritual humiliation by egotistical celebrity minnows, you have to ask what drives competitors to put themselves forward, and what satisfaction do they gain from their 30 seconds in the limelight.

There is an argument that professional footballers are more entertainers than athletes, and for them the excesses and high-spending lifestyle are fair compensation for a short professional career. Few, though, are prepared for the intrusive media circus which both adulates and crucifies at will.

But achievement goes much deeper than just adulation on the football pitch, tennis court or concert platform. There is self-esteem and recognition. Sadly, the latter – or rather how it is accorded – can sometimes appear wide of the mark.

All those honorary degrees for mediocre personalities bestowed from respected seats of learning do little to enhance a sense of achievement. Even names on the Royal honours list can prompt surprise and criticism, while the insidious attempts by political commissars to blunt the quest for advancement in education by manipulating school curriculums and imposing meaningless targets discredit the real pursuit of excellence. Schools where everyone is awarded prizes so that non-achievers don’t feel excluded do little to inspire.

Other than for some extreme perversity, nobody is going to embark on any project with the aim of doing badly. We’re programmed to upward mobility. Modern civilisation is built on achievement. Institutionally, we’ve been rewarding non-military achievement since the Greeks honoured Zeus at Olympia.

Of course, there’s a danger in taking the competitive spirit and elitism too far, so it’s fitting that society should wrap competition in a well-worn safety net of recreational activity.

This is the traditional time of the year to be overwhelmed with competitive sporting fixtures, examination results, talent shows and quiz finals, all representing the fruition of effort and achievement, to say nothing of the hundreds of volunteers who participate in charity fundraising activities which often involves ‘going the extra mile’ on behalf of others.

Some receive public acclaim, others achieve personal goals. In a truly competitive environment you’re pretty safe in the belief that you’ll always be better than your audience gives you credit, but never as good as you aspire to be. But then there’s tomorrow.