EKAITZ SAIES

As a kid, I spent hours flicking through the hundreds of vinyl records that my uncle Xabi had in his room. Some say he was the first—or one of the first—punks in San Sebastian. He had a band, wrote a fanzine, ran a record label, and even released one of the most iconic Spanish punk albums ever. His collection was a gateway into a world of raw energy, rebellion, and music that felt larger than life.

One record cover that always stood out to me was London Calling by The Clash. The pink and green typography, the bold homage to Elvis Presley, but most of all, the image—Paul Simonon smashing his bass on stage. It was pure chaos, frozen in time. That cover felt like everything punk was supposed to be. But what I didn’t know back then was that the photographer, Pennie Smith, almost didn’t want it used. She thought it was too out of focus.

Seeing Beyond Expertise

On 20 September 1979, at the Palladium in New York, The Clash’s bassist, Paul Simonon, smashed his Fender Precision Bass in frustration. The venue’s security wouldn’t let the audience stand up, and in true punk fashion, Simonon let his anger erupt in a moment of total abandon. Luckily, Smith captured the split-second just before impact.

Yet when it came time to use the image for the London Calling album cover, Smith hesitated—she thought it was technically flawed. But Joe Strummer and graphic designer Ray Lowry saw something she didn’t. They recognised the raw energy, the defiant spirit, and the sheer power of that photograph. They ignored Smith’s concerns, and the image went on to become one of the most iconic album covers of all time. In 2002, Q magazine even crowned it the greatest rock-and-roll photograph ever taken.

This is a perfect example of how professional expertise—valuable as it is—can sometimes narrow perspective. Smith, as a photographer, was trained to value sharpness and clarity. That was her craft. But sometimes, the true essence of a moment isn’t in technical perfection—it’s in the feeling it captures. Strummer and Lowry, thinking like musicians and designers rather than photographers, saw that this slightly blurred, chaotic image was perfection.

This phenomenon, known as expert blindness—describes the tendency to see the world through the narrow lens of one’s own expertise, often at the expense of a broader perspective. It’s the classic case of “When you have a hammer, everything looks like a nail.”

Imperfection and Authenticity

There’s a certain beauty in things that aren’t perfectly polished—whether in music, design, or even in people. London Calling’s cover wasn’t meant to be perfect; it was raw, blurry, and full of emotion, yet that’s exactly what made it iconic.

In 2019, I attended the Canoe Slalom World Cup in Lee Valley as the performance director of the Spanish team. One afternoon, I had some free time, so I took the train to Tottenham Court Road and headed straight to a bookstore. I was looking for a book that had just been released—Alchemy by Rory Sutherland, vice chairman of Ogilvy and a champion of behavioural economics. In it, Sutherland argues that embracing imperfection can make something feel more human, more real. He highlights how we tend to trust things that feel genuine over those that seem too calculated or artificial.

The same principle applies to people. The other day, I was talking to a friend, and we discussed how, in high-performance sport, we often admire athletes not just for their skill but for their raw passion, flaws, and unique personalities. Some of the greatest competitors aren’t those who appear robotic and flawless, but those who embrace their imperfections, making them part of their identity. Authenticity isn’t about being perfectly polished—it’s about being real, and sometimes, that’s what truly sets someone apart.

The Power of the Unconventional

In Alchemy, Sutherland explores how the most effective ideas often don’t come from logic or data but from intuition, psychology, and human behaviour—things that experts in a given field tend to dismiss.

As Sutherland puts it:

“The problem with logic is that it gets you to exactly the same place as your competitors.”

Photographers were trained to value clarity, so Smith dismissed the blurred image. But Strummer and Lowry weren’t constrained by that logic—they saw the magic in imperfection. Similarly, in business, marketing, or even sport, the best decisions often come from thinking beyond the standard playbook.

Sutherland also warns against the dangers of relying solely on data and expertise:

“We’ve created a world where we define problems in the narrowest possible way, simply so that we can claim to have solved them.”

A “bad” photograph, a “wrong” business strategy, an “illogical” decision—these can sometimes be the very things that set something apart. The problem isn’t that experts are wrong; it’s that their perspective is often too narrow.

The Link to High-Performance Sport

This same principle applies in high-performance sport, where the best coaches and athletes often succeed by challenging conventional wisdom. Many of the greatest breakthroughs in sport have come from going against expert opinion.

Take Dick Fosbury, for example. Before the 1968 Olympics, every expert believed that the best way to clear the high jump bar was to go over it with a straddle or scissors technique. Fosbury, however, developed a completely different approach—going over backwards, leading with his shoulders. At first, coaches and analysts dismissed it as unorthodox, even inefficient. But at the Mexico City Olympics, Fosbury won gold, and his technique—now known as the Fosbury Flop—became the standard for high jumpers worldwide.

In elite sport, data and expert analysis are crucial, but they don’t tell the full story. The greatest athletes and teams succeed because they know when to trust intuition, embrace risk, and break from convention. They understand that what looks “wrong” on paper might be the very thing that gives them an edge.

Breaking the Rules: The Unexpected Power of Imperfection

A financial expert might dismiss an unconventional business idea because it doesn’t fit traditional models—yet that same idea could disrupt an entire industry. A coach might overlook a player who doesn’t fit the textbook mould—only for them to become a game-changer in a new role. An artist might reject a piece as flawed, while an audience sees it as groundbreaking.

The lesson? Expertise is invaluable, but it isn’t everything. As Sutherland would argue, the most valuable ideas often come from questioning conventional wisdom, embracing human instincts, and recognising that what seems “wrong” through one lens might be visionary through another.

Just because an expert says, “That’s not right,” doesn’t mean it’s not brilliant. In fact, it might be exactly what the world—or your team—needs.