I think Eric is a bloody genius. I think he had wind blowing like a gale whenever he cried in his crib, made tornadoes by spinning to quickly as a toddler, had the Breeze flowing and pumping through his little body every day of his life. The kind of natural talent that shows up once in 100 generations.
And I think that when little Eric looked into his fathers eyes one day, what he saw was shame. Not toward Eric, but toward himself. Can you imagine what it's like being surpassed so quickly and decisively by a child? So he began to drift away, and Eric, desperate for his love, blocked it all up. Dammed up the breeze inside of him and forgot about it. But the damage to his fathers pride was already done, and no matter how he acted up Eric's father couldn't bring himself to look the boy in the eye.
That's my answer to the contradiction. Eric's mental blocks aren't because he's worried he won't satisfy his father. They exist because he knows, deep down, that's he's better.
Hey son, wanna' learn how ta' make witch balls?