You Are Only as Good as Your Latest Hit!

The First Time It Hit Me

It was after a project that went exceptionally well. One of those everyone remembers. Where everything aligns. Where people around you say things like “this would never have worked without you” and “we’ll be in touch again.”

And they mean it. At that moment.

In the weeks that follow, you’re warm in the system. Doors open. Phone calls get answered quickly. You’re invited into rooms you didn’t even know existed.

Then time passes.

A new project arrives. Less glamorous. More complex. Less visible. You see the risks early. You raise concerns. You slow things down a bit. You try to do it right.

The project stumbles. Not a disaster — but not a success either.

And that’s when you notice it.

The calls get shorter.
The emails take longer.
Your opinion carries less weight.

That’s when the phrase steps forward. Not as philosophy — but as fact.

You are only as good as your latest hit.

A World with a Short Memory

We live in a world with an extremely short memory.
Everywhere.

No one looks back for long. Not out of malice — but out of speed. Everything moves fast. New people. New projects. New flows.

What matters is what’s closest in time.

CVs are read from the top down.
Algorithms reward recency.
Trust is perishable.

It doesn’t matter how many times you saved the situation before.
When things start to shake — it’s the present that’s scrutinized.

And the present is ruthless.

The Invisible Reset

Every new assignment resets you a little.

Not completely — but enough that you have to prove yourself again. It’s never stated openly. No one says,
“Now we’re starting from zero.”

But it’s there.

In the looks.
In the questions.
In how much space you’re given.

It’s like stepping onto the stage night after night in front of the same audience — but without them remembering yesterday. You have to play the opening song perfectly every time. Otherwise, silence.

When Experience Becomes a Problem

The strange thing is that the more experienced you become, the harder the game gets.

You see more.
You understand consequences.
You know what won’t work.

But the world loves what’s simple, fast, and optimistic. Experience is rarely any of those things.

Experience says:
“Wait a moment.”
“That will cost us later.”
“This looks good on the surface, but it won’t hold.”

And in systems that reward speed and enthusiasm, that can sound like resistance. Like doubt. Like a problem.

Not because you’re wrong — but because you’re not delivering the next “hit” fast enough.

The Creative Paradox

For creative people, the phrase is almost cruelly accurate.

A hit is never the end. It’s the beginning of the next demand.

After a strong delivery, the question changes:
Not “can you?”
But “can you do it again — now?”

And preferably bigger.
Preferably faster.
Preferably with fewer resources.

Success creates expectation. Expectation creates pressure. Pressure eats calm.

That’s why so many creatives never get to rest in what they’ve achieved. Their eyes are already fixed on the next thing before the applause fades.

When You Start Believing It Yourself

The real danger appears when you turn the phrase inward.

When a weak period stops being a phase — and becomes a judgment of your entire worth.

“Was I only good back then?”
“Have I lost it?”
“Was that my last hit?”

That’s when people start playing it safe. Repeating themselves. Clinging to what once worked. Not because it’s true — but because it feels secure.

And security is often the death of creativity.

Freedom in Acceptance

And yet, there’s something liberating in fully accepting the phrase.

If the world is constantly reassessing you anyway — why cling to old merits?

If respect is temporary — why build your identity on it?

When you stop needing validation for who you were, you regain the freedom to move again.

Not nostalgic.
Not defensive.
But alive.

A Hit Isn’t Always Applause

Over time, I’ve come to understand that a “hit” doesn’t always mean external success.

Sometimes your latest hit is:

• Standing your ground

• Turning down a project that didn’t feel right

• Doing what was correct instead of what was popular

It doesn’t always show. It doesn’t create headlines. But it builds something deeper.

An inner continuity.

The Long-Term Truth

The people who truly endure over time are rarely the ones with the most hits.
They are the ones who can get up after mistakes.
Adjust course.
Create again.

Their strength isn’t in isolated peaks — but in continuity.

And maybe that’s where the phrase reveals its final, inverted meaning:

You are not your latest hit.
You are your ability to create the next one — even when no one expects it.

The End — or the Beginning

So yes.
I still say it.

You are only as good as your latest hit.

Not as a threat.
Not as a verdict.

But as a reminder of motion.

That life is not a museum of past achievements — but an ongoing performance. Where every new day is a new stage.

And where the only thing that truly matters is that you still step onto it.