Do Lucky Rituals Actually Work? And Why So Many of Them Involve Jewellery

You've probably got one, even if you'd never call it a superstition. The same shirt on a big match day. The same spot on the sofa. The chain you touch before you walk into an interview, or the ring you twist when the pressure's on.

Most of us would laugh if someone suggested any of it changes the outcome. But try doing it differently on the day that really matters, and see how that feels.

We're a couple of months into the football season now, the point where every weekend starts to feel like it counts, and the rituals come out in force. In the stands, on the sofa, at work and, more than most people realise, on the pitch itself. So it's worth asking the question properly. Do lucky rituals actually do anything? Or are we just giving ourselves something to hold on to? And if it's the second one, is that really such a bad thing?

The best athletes in the world have them too

If it makes you feel any better, the best athletes in the world are worse than the rest of us.

Michael Jordan wore his old university shorts under his Chicago Bulls kit, game after game. Rafael Nadal lines up his water bottles with the labels facing the court and won't step on a line between points. Serena Williams bounced the ball five times before her first serve and kept the same pair of socks on through a winning run. And at the 1998 World Cup, Laurent Blanc kissed Fabien Barthez's bald head before every single match. France went on to win the whole thing.

Nobody's seriously suggesting a pair of old shorts won Jordan six championships. But he clearly didn't fancy finding out what happened without them.

That's the bit that's interesting. These aren't people short of confidence or talent. They've done the work, more of it than almost anyone. And they still want the ritual.

Why a ritual makes you feel calmer

Strip away the superstition and most rituals look pretty similar. A small thing, done the same way every time, right before the moment that matters.

It turns out that does something. In one Harvard study, researchers asked people to sing in front of a stranger, which is about as uncomfortable as it gets. Before they started, some of them were given a made-up ritual: draw how you're feeling, sprinkle salt on it, count down out loud, then bin it. It sounds daft. But their heart rates came down, they said they felt calmer, and they sang better than the people who just sat and waited.

The ritual didn't make anyone a better singer. It just gave the nerves somewhere to go.

And that's really what the shirt, the socks and the water bottles are doing. A big moment is full of things you can't control. The crowd, the referee, the bounce of the ball. A ritual is the one bit you can. It gives your hands something to do and tells your head you've been here before.

Football has always understood this. When we asked whether jewellery should be brought back to the pitch, it was that same moment we kept coming back to: the player kissing the pendant around his neck before a penalty. It isn't style. It's a full stop before the run-up.

When a ritual starts to hold you back

It would be easy to leave it there and call it settled. It isn't quite that simple.

Back in 2010, a study did the rounds claiming people putted a golf ball better when they were told the ball was lucky. Everyone loved it. Then other researchers tried to repeat it, and the effect didn't show up. Whatever was going on, the lucky ball probably wasn't doing much.

There's a bigger problem, too. If your confidence lives in a shirt, what happens when the shirt's in the wash? A ritual can calm your nerves, but it can just as easily become the thing your nerves hang on. Forget a step, lose the charm, sit in the wrong seat, and suddenly the whole day feels off before a ball's been kicked. At that point it isn't helping you. You've handed your confidence to an object and you're hoping it gives it back.

And let's be honest, luck can be a handy place to put the blame. If it goes wrong, it wasn't the preparation. It was the socks.

Why we'd call it belief, not luck

This is where we come down on it.

Luck says something out there might look after you. Belief says you've done the work and you're ready. The ritual can look exactly the same from the outside. What matters is which one you're telling yourself when you do it.

That's the difference between clutching a pendant and hoping for a miracle, and touching it out of habit before you walk into the room. People have carried a St Christopher on long journeys for centuries. Not because they thought a medal could steer the car, but because it felt like having someone they trusted along for the ride. The same goes for a clover pendant, a ring that was your dad's, or a chain with a date engraved on the back.

None of them do the work for you. They just remind you that you can. That's the whole idea behind Back Yourself. The belief has to come from you. A piece you wear every day can help you remember it's there.

The rituals we pick up from our dads

There's one more thing the surveys never really pick up on. Most rituals aren't invented. They're passed on.

The route to the ground your dad always took. The seat your grandad sat in. The way he folded the programme into his inside pocket, and the way you do it now without ever deciding to. Nobody sat you down and taught you. You just watched, and at some point it became yours.

Jewellery works the same way. A chain gets passed from father to son, and the habit comes with it. Touching it on the way out of the door. Turning a ring before a big meeting the way he did before a big match. The piece carries the ritual, and the ritual carries the person.

Maybe that's why these things are so hard to let go of. It's not really the luck you'd be giving up.

So, do lucky rituals actually work?

Probably not in the way the lad in the unwashed shirt would like. The shirt isn't going to move the ball. But the calm it gives him might help him enjoy the game. The ring might steady a hand before a speech. The pendant might be the full stop before the run-up.

Call it luck if you want. We'd call it belief, with something to hold on to.

What's yours?