Before I play matches I'm always switching myself on. That's why

Hear the words of Neil Robertson, warrior not of the sword, but of the mind and the cue: “Before I play matches I'm always switching myself on. That's why I have that walk-on music – Two Steps From Hell – they produce really good motivational gladiator-style music. As soon as that music comes on I'm switched on and I'm ready for a brawl!” This statement, though born in the world of sport, carries with it the thunder of ancient truth: before battle, a warrior must awaken his spirit. Music becomes the trumpet that stirs the blood, the chant that arms the soul, the rhythm that transforms hesitation into resolve.

In every age, men and women have sought rituals to prepare them for combat, for performance, for trial. The Spartans sang hymns before battle to steel their courage. Roman gladiators entered the arena to the roar of horns and the chants of the crowd. Even today, soldiers march to the cadence of drums, finding in the beat a unity stronger than fear. Robertson’s choice of gladiator-style music is no accident—it is the echo of this timeless ritual, the summoning of the inner warrior before stepping into his own arena.

The meaning of his words lies deeper than music alone. To be “switched on” is to master the inner self. The mind, often wandering, must be called into focus. The heart, often trembling, must be made steady. The body, often weary, must be filled with fire. Music becomes the key that unlocks this transformation. It calls forth the hidden strength within, turning doubt into determination, anxiety into power. Robertson shows us that readiness is not an accident; it is cultivated, summoned, chosen.

Consider Alexander the Great, who, before leading his armies into peril, would speak to his men with fiery words, igniting in them the spirit of victory before the first sword was drawn. His speeches, like Robertson’s music, were not merely for entertainment, but for transformation. They turned ordinary men into conquerors. The principle is the same: one must prepare the soul for the brawl, for only a heart aflame can endure the clash of wills.

There is also wisdom here in the recognition of ritual. For humans, whether in sport, in war, or in life’s struggles, cannot always rely upon spontaneous courage. We require sparks to ignite us, practices to awaken us. Robertson teaches us that rituals of preparation—whether music, prayer, meditation, or speech—are not weakness but strength. They are the doors we open to step into a higher state of being, to meet the challenge before us.

The lesson, then, is clear: find what awakens your own inner gladiator. Do not enter the battles of life unprepared, drifting in with a half-awake spirit. Choose the practices, the words, the music, the rituals that rouse your soul and sharpen your mind. When trial comes—whether on a stage, in an office, or in the struggles of daily life—be already aflame, already focused, already “switched on.” In this way, you meet your battles not as a wanderer, but as a warrior.

And so, O seekers of strength, let Robertson’s words be your guide: prepare yourself before the fight, awaken your spirit, and enter the arena ready for the brawl. For life itself is a series of contests, and only those who master the art of readiness prevail. Let music, or words, or silence—whatever calls forth your fire—be your trumpet before battle. Then stride forward, not with hesitation, but with the steady heart of one who has already won within.