Most People Are Just “Good.” Here's How to Spot the Great.

Once upon a time, before I even committed to my career as a doctor, I vigorously pursued becoming a professional tennis player. When I was 17 years old, I lived in Florida at a tennis academy and saw the best of the best train.

What I Learned?

My discipline and grit carried me, yet my mental fortitude and talent limited me. I was a solid player but far from the greats I trained alongside.

At 18, with college looming, I had to take a big bite of humble pie to reconcile my next steps. That’s when I hung up my racquet. For two years, I didn’t touch it once. Instead, I pivoted and intentionally chose to become a serious student and, eventually, a doctor.

A Revelation at Indian Wells

Fast forward 18 years. I attended the Indian Wells Professional Tennis semifinals and had the privilege of watching the top three players in the world compete. What struck me most was how clear the talent differential was, even among players with such close world rankings.

At one point in my life, I lived, breathed, and embodied tennis. Yet, in the following 18 years, it barely crossed my mind. My dreams never reached my hopes, but my eye for talent within the sport remained as sharp as ever. I could see things that spectators—those who had never played the game at an intense level—couldn’t. That day, I had a revelation that there is a clear distinction between being ok, good, great, and even those who are spectacular.

The 54% Rule

Years later, I saw a video of Roger Federer, one of tennis’s all-time greats. In a speech, he revealed an astonishing statistic: He won nearly 80% of his professional matches, yet when you break it down into individual points, he only won 54%. Even at his level, Federer was spectacular, winning just 54% of his career points.


Understanding the Difference Between OK, Good, Great, and Spectacular

In any profession or pursuit, grit and dedication differentiate between okay and good. The difference between good and great is time, talent, and experience. But what is the difference between great and spectacular? That’s something else entirely. It’s next-level rare.

To illustrate the scale of these differences, let’s examine time:


• 1 thousand seconds = ~0.02 days

• 1 million seconds = ~11.6 days

• 1 billion seconds = ~11,600 days (~32 years)

• 1 trillion seconds = ~11,600,000 days (~32,000 years)

These numbers often get thrown around haphazardly, but they’re rarely appreciated in relative terms. The gap between each level is massive—just like the gap between ok, good, great, and spectacular.

The Importance of Accurate Calibration

In tennis, I was good. I was far from great and light-years from spectacular. Yet, depending on who was watching and who I was being compared to, I could have seemed great or even spectacular. But that would have been an inaccurate assessment.

People in any sport, field, or profession can become good through grit and dedication. But should we seek advice, insight, or guidance from those who are merely good? That depends on the scale we use and our ultimate destination. If our scale is accurately calibrated, we’ll realize that very few genuinely fall into the great or spectacular categories. Yet, it is those with whom we should strive to surround ourselves.


A Final Thought

In a time when social platforms make it easy for everyone to claim being good or even great, remember that true greatness—and especially spectacular excellence—requires a lifetime of investment and focus plus unparalleled talent. The differentials are massive, as I have represented above, with time. This isn’t a reflection of incompetence or lack of value; it’s simply a reminder that if we seek to reach our highest potential, we must constantly recalibrate our discernment of what is ok, good, great, and spectacular about ourselves and others.

This is why the top three people you surround yourself with will dictate how far you can push your excellence and how optimal your health will become.

Let’s be more discerning—of ourselves and others—about what is good, great, and truly spectacular. And let's stop reveling in others who are simply ok. Anyone can be that.

"Can I ask you a personal question, Doc?”

Whenever someone leads with this, it’s wise to brace for what’s coming next. Personally, I welcome these moments because I begin with the understanding that the question isn’t really about me—it’s about what the person who is asking needs.

But what followed this particular question recently deeply unsettled me: “What are your thoughts on vaccines?

I wasn’t annoyed—at least, not at the person. I respected the question. But I immediately thought, “Have we really come to this?”

It doesn’t matter whether we’re discussing vaccines, diets, supplements, or lifestyle choices—what I think is irrelevant. Health decisions aren’t about me or any other provider. Medicine should be personal. The most crucial starting point is always this: What do you need? Not, what does my provider think or believe?

This fear-based questioning—where someone hesitates to ask because they worry about how I (or any provider) might react—should have no place in medicine. She asked a valid question but framed it as if it should be personal to me when it should be rooted in science and personalization.

Let me be clear: Your health is about you. It’s about your informed options and your choices based on that information. This question is often about someone else—a child or a loved one. I also recognize that it has become a divisive political issue. But it should not be—ever.

In a time when discerning truth from misinformation is more challenging than ever, I encourage you to return to the fundamentals when making healthcare decisions and remove inherent biases. The process is often overwhelming, confusing, and layered. But only you know which layers matter most to you, your family, and your child.

If you ever feel uncertain about the healthcare advice you’re receiving, ask yourself:

• Is my healthcare provider experienced? Are they ok, good, great, or spectacular?

• Are they offering opinions, or are they providing wisdom and guidance?

• Are they personalizing their advice to me or making sweeping generalizations?

• Are they appealing to my intellect or only to my emotions?

• Most importantly: Are they asking why I’m asking this question and what my specific needs are?

In the future, I hope patients feel empowered to ask these questions—not to gauge what I (or any provider) think or believe but to seek clarity on what they truly need.

As a physician, I am not your judge. I am not your political advisor, pushing my opinions onto your decision-making. My role is simple: to guide, listen, educate, and support.

How do you define ‘greatness’ in healthcare or life? What have you had to recalibrate recently? Share your thoughts below.

Grateful to be your physician guide.

Kevin Hoffarth MD, IFCMP
BioFIT Medicine