Of course intensity is required for success. Intensity in the service of genuine productivity and value is a recipe for success in all walks of life. But lots of intensity is cosmetic, and there are lots of people whose intensity isn't in the service of productive things.
The Michael Jordan documentary The Last Dance is a great example of this. His intensity, focus, and arrogance was/is maniacal. Even in a world of hyper-competitive egos, he's in a class by himself. And that mania resulted in his alienation of almost everyone around him - namely his own teammates. Steve Jobs, as mentioned in the blog, was similar. Loud firings, public insults, and fits of condescension haunt his legacy. And worse, the world is full of sociopaths mimicking the worst of Jordan and Jobs, mistakenly thinking being an asshole is the secret ingredient to great success. But it's not.
I'm friends with a semi-retired public high school basketball coach who is broadly considered a "living legend". He won 19 state championships, 1300 games, and is a part-time assistant even in his 70s. His winning percentage over his entire career is in excess of 90%, which is simply an absurd accomplishment.
As the son of a successful basketball coach (and have another HS Hall-of-Fame caliber coach in the family), I'm familiar with the passion and intensity of successful coaches. I know the hours they put in, the focus they demand, and how the best coaches build programs, not teams. I know how they commonly hate losing much more than they enjoy winning.
But this "legend" I know, on the surface, seems an outlier in both success and behavior.
He's broadly known for his calm, cool demeanor. He has only received two technical fouls in his career, one for a clerical error and the other for a technicality. He doesn't raise his voice. He doesn't get excited or upset. He's "mild-mannered" in a world of red-faced, hyper-competitive rage monsters. If it weren't for his peerless success, his mild temperament would probably be viewed as a liability.
He's universally loved by his players, his peers, and his assistants. He's generous with his time and energy, willing to share his knowledge and experience with anyone who will listen. Those that know him talk about him as a good person first, and a coaching prodigy second.
But underneath his calm demeanor is a tireless, never-satisfied intensity that demands the best from players, schools, and parents alike. He's examining every angle. He's using every moment afforded to him for maximum effect. Even if there is a day off, it's in service of a bigger plan.
He sees how all the little habits, the little behaviors, and little efforts achieve big goals in aggregate. He watches Junior High B-teams practice to make sure everything is done right and that his coaches are investing in each player appropriately. And he makes sure each player is investing in themselves. He's conducting a symphony and passionately ensuring each note is being played as best it can.
He's also very straightforward, to his players, to their parents, to the administration, and to anyone that will listen. He knows what he wants from his players in practice, in the game, and in all other avenues of their lives. He sets lofty but attainable goals for each of them. He doesn't sugar coat anything. He is willing to tell the truth even when a lie would be easier. But that truth is always in the same calm, cool demeanor he coaches with.
His ability to direct his intensity productively is world class. I don't think it's any surprise that other extremely high achievers, like Steve Jobs, were able to do the same. But he's proof you don't have to treat people poorly to succeed at the highest level in your field.