Failure Confessional: How not completing my application got me into graduate school

Hi, my name is Stephen and I make mistakes, lots of them. I am going to share a story about one of the biggest mistakes I ever made (which may, in and of itself, be a mistake, but here goes nothing) to prove the following point: We do not succeed despite our mistakes, we succeed because of them.

It is the spring of my senior year of college and I have decided to apply to doctoral programs in clinical psychology. It was a busy time. I was in the middle of my final college lacrosse season, so leaving Boston was an impossibility, but the University of Denver (DU) was generous and allowed me to interview over the phone. Excited by the opportunity but nervous and anxious to make a good impression, I did my research and felt prepared for the interview. It wasn’t lost on me that my future was in my interviewer’s hands.

A few minutes into my phone call with the Dean of the entire program, when I thought it was going well, he, out of nowhere, asked me why I chose not to write the supplemental essay on the application, to which I responded, “I did not even know it existed” (I figured my chances of acceptance had just plummeted, “this is going great!” ). Without hesitation, he then said, “No problem, here is the prompt, can you tell me what you would have written?”

After picking my jaw off of the ground, I gathered myself, quickly thought about my answer, and went for it (bullet dodged). Minutes go by before he let me know that I also accidentally sent a rough draft of my main essay, and the cherry on top—one of my professors sent the letter of recommendation addressed to a different university. I had hit the trifecta! Surely this was a bad joke.

At this point, you may be asking, I know this guy earned a doctorate in clinical psychology; how did he do that without earning an acceptance? Well, after I was miraculously admitted to DU, I was wondering the same thing, so when I arrived on campus, I asked the Dean why he let me in and his answer was simple, “Yes, I would have preferred you wrote the essay and had a cleaner application, but in the end, you were able to adapt, think on your feet, keep your composure and respond accordingly, which is exactly what I am looking for in a psychologist.”

So, my mistake-laden application created another opportunity--display my ability to adapt, improvise, and maintain composure. This experience, and what I learned from it, have had a profound impact 0on how I think about my work. Sessions, team meetings, conversations with coaches don’t have to be perfect. I simply need to be flexible, agile, and resilient.

Life often does not go as planned. Mistakes are made, failures occur, and disappointments happen. The key is to acknowledge and accept what has happened, try to not over-identify with what occurred, feel your feelings, attempt to learn from them, and respond with intention. While there are times when you cannot control what occurs, you certainly can control how you respond and the meaning you make of the situation. Our greatest triumphs rarely occur without setbacks.

What You’re Looking For, You Will Find

Tune into any PGA or LPGA broadcast and you’ll see crushed tee shots, crisp irons, precise wedges, and drained putts. You’ll see the best players in the world making the game look effortless—and you might walk away feeling pretty bad about your own game.

But look a little closer. You’ll also see wayward drives, mishit irons, chunked wedges, and missed four-footers. The takeaway is simple: what you’re looking for, you’ll find. And the consequences of where you choose to focus are significant.

Have you ever noticed that when you’re struggling, you automatically start collecting evidence that supports the story that you’re “in a slump,” “cold,” or “not _____ enough”? In sport, as in life, our perceptions often become our reality. When a performer—consciously or subconsciously—seeks information that supports existing beliefs and expectations, it’s called confirmation bias.

The issue isn’t just perception—it’s how it affects performance. Continually searching for information that confirms your limiting beliefs keeps you stuck. It prevents growth and reinforces the same unhelpful patterns. If I believe everyone else is better than I am, I’ll find proof of that everywhere I look. If I believe I’m the only one struggling, I’ll interpret every cue as confirmation.

Too often, I hear the word can’t:
“I can’t accomplish that.”
“I can’t improve.”
“I can’t break through.”

But what if you flipped the script?
What if you started looking for the cans?

“I can improve—with practice.”
“I can accomplish that—eventually.”
“I can pull that off.”

Once you change what you’re looking for, you change what you find.

Which Wolf do you Feed?

Have you ever heard of the Tale of Two Wolves? This Native American legend, often attributed to the Cherokee tribe, tells the story of a young child approaching an elder to ask about the two voices in his mind, one negative and one positive. The elder tells the young child that each of us has two wolves (one encouraging, compassionate, and loving, and the other disparaging, hurtful, and mean) battling in our minds. The boy asks, “Which wolf wins,” to which the elder says, “Whichever one you feed.”

While your initial thoughts are automatic, your response thought is where the true power lives. You can continue to suffer, deepen your pain, and remain stuck in negativity, or you can choose compassion, kindness, and hope. It is vital to point out how toxic positivity and the “just will yourself to be happy” culture is not only unrealistic but harmful. “Feeding” the positive wolf includes embracing difficult emotions, engaging with them curiously, and grounding yourself in the next best behavioral choice.

Optimism and pessimism are not just about our views of the future, but rather a way to conceptualize and organize our response to challenges in the present. When a mistake is made, one has the choice to see that failure as pervasive, permanent, and/or personalized (that’s one wolf) or localized, temporary, and non-personal (that’s the other wolf).

Which wolf do you most often feed?

Which of these common cognitive traps do you most often fall into?

Pervasiveness- Everything stinks

Permanence- It will stink forever

Personalized- I stink

Don't Should All Over Yourself

After winning the state championship my sophomore year of high school, we lost in crushing fashion the next year — a semifinal heartbreak that lived rent-free in our heads for months…admittedly, it might have been longer than that.

Over the next several months, at the dinner table, my dad and occasionally a few teammates would, with obvious regret, repeat the same refrain: “Shoulda won that game.”

In short, we were living a shouldy life.

I wouldn’t go as far as to say “should” is a dirty word, but it definitely muddies things up (pun intended).

The problem with “should”

“Should” when focused on the past leads to regret, shame, and rumination. It keeps us replaying moments we can’t change instead of learning from them.

“Should” when focused on the future leads to rigidity, anger and unnecessary pressure — expectations disguised as goals. It traps us in an imagined standard rather than actualizing the process in front of us.

Better alternatives

Try swapping “should” for “prefer” or “want.” Those words create space for flexibility, curiosity, and growth — they shift your mindset from judgment to ownership.
Exchange curiosity for judgment. Instead of “I should’ve made that putt,” try “What can I learn from that moment?”

“Should” shames you for not being where you think you ought to be. Curiosity and flexibility pull you toward where you can go.

Remain in the present- it’s only a moment in time 

Remind yourself that “It’s okay” (it is not actually life or death to have missed a putt or to not make the cut).

Focus on resilience and agility more than perfection or rigid expectations. 

I will leave you with a final warning—Excessive “shoulding” could cause emotional constipation.

Do You Believe in Laziness?

I hear these refrains in my office frequently:
“I need to stop being so lazy.”
“I was just being lazy.”
“I’m a lazy person.”

They always make me pause. What exactly is laziness? Is it ever helpful to call yourself lazy? And what should you actually do when you feel lazy?

After years of listening, observing, and reflecting, I’ve come to three conclusions:

1. Laziness is almost always a symptom of deeper, more important “root causes.”

2. Labeling yourself as lazy is ineffective—it’s shame-based, it doesn’t lead to meaningful change, and it hides the true reason for your inaction.

3. Our culture tends to overvalue productivity and undervalue rest, even though rest is essential for both mind and body.

Laziness is Almost Always the Result of Deeper “Root Causes”

It’s not that laziness isn’t real—it’s just an incomplete descriptor. It tells us nothing about why we’re inactive, unmotivated, or avoiding something. Beneath the surface, there’s almost always a more specific reason for this passivity.

In fact, the brain is designed to conserve energy. We’re wired to seek comfort and take the path of least resistance—a principle known as Zipf’s “law of least effort.” From an evolutionary standpoint, that made perfect sense. Today, however, it can show up as procrastination, distraction, or what we call “laziness.”

But comfort-seeking isn’t the only factor leading to this lack of inertia. Inaction often stems from one (or several) of the following:

• Fear of failure, judgment, or discomfort

• Poor prioritization or unclear goals

• Ineffective systems

• Lack of perceived value or meaning in the task

• Lack of pride or ownership

• Lack of respect—for oneself, the process, or the person requesting the task

• Avoidance of specific emotions (e.g., frustration, shame, boredom)

• Genuine apathy or lack of stimulation

• Feeling overwhelmed or unsure where to start

• Low motivation or depleted energy

• Underlying mental health issues such as depression, anxiety, or ADHD

When you identify the underlying  reason behind avoidance or inaction, the path forward becomes clearer. The “intervention” isn’t about forcing discipline—it’s about addressing the cause.

Labeling Yourself as Lazy is Ineffective

“Lazy” is a fixed trait, a negative label coated in shame. Laziness is culturally frowned upon, so when you choose not to do something and your response is “I’m lazy,” you’ve created a fixed mindset—where you become what you’ve done, or in this case, what you haven’t done.

This not only begins a shame spiral but also leads to more inaction. Identifying as a “lazy person” is finite; it doesn’t leave room for growth or change.

We Overvalue Productivity and Undervalue Rest

Rest and recovery are crucial to the growth process. The era of No Days Off and Rest Is for the Weak is over. These ideas are antiquated, ineffective, and even harmful. 

If you berate yourself for being “lazy” when you take a recovery day, you’re setting yourself up for overtraining, burnout, and injury. Instead of labeling yourself as lazy, remind yourself that you’re caring for and listening to your body and mind—and that rest is not the opposite of productivity. It’s a part of it.

Laziness is not a character flaw. It is more effective to view it as an incomplete descriptor, the result of deeper root causes, and a sign that you are talking to yourself in a shame-based way. This term is also a reminder to investigate the true  causes of inaction, and engage with yourself in a more curious and compassionate way. 

Mini-Game, Major Impact: A Jumbos Lacrosse Lesson in Culture

You may know me as Stephen—or perhaps Doc—but how about Inaugural Tufts University Lacrosse Team Mini-Game Champion?

Before you ooh and ahh, let me explain.

In the fall of my junior year, our coach gathered the seniors, drafted eight small teams, and launched what would become the most influential part of our training program—something that still exists today: The Mini-Game Championship.

Designed to infuse competition into everything we did, this year-long contest awarded points for weightlifting sessions, 3v3 basketball, and—most importantly—short-sided 4v4 lacrosse battles at the end of each practice. Teammates lined the field, hooting and hollering like it was the NCAA final.

Even with thirteen NESCAC championship plaques and five national trophies on display, The Mini-Game Cup—a gallon bucket and large bowl wrapped in tinfoil and etched with winners’ names—might be the most coveted prize in the trophy room.

The genius of the Mini-Game was simple: it made every rep, every drill, every practice matter. It built camaraderie, normalized pressure, and inoculated us from noise and nerves.

To build a culture rooted in competition, you cannot simply talk about it, you must practice it until it becomes an unbreakable habit. So when you are designing your team culture, remember: Competitiveness isn’t built in the big moments—it’s rehearsed in the small ones.

The Brain’s “Prevent Defense”: Why Playing Not to Lose Holds You Back

Deep in the fourth quarter of countless Ravens games, with a narrow lead and the clock winding down, the defense would shift into a “prevent defense.” They’d drop back, give up short completions, and focus entirely on not allowing the big play. Each time this pattern repeated itself, my dad would turn to me and say, “Stephen, do you know the only thing the prevent defense does?”
And I’d reply, “Prevent us from winning.”

That line resonated with me — not just because it led to so many crushing Ravens losses, but because it also rings true off the gridiron.

The human brain possesses its own instinctive prevent defense. It is called the Behavioral Inhibition System (BIS), and it functions as the brain’s brake pedal fueled by “Don’ts”, “Can’ts,” and negative “what-ifing”. When the brain detects a threat and the BIS takes over,  overthinking, hesitancy, indecisiveness, and anxiety abound. This prevention mindset naturally seeks safety and is rooted in protection, defensiveness, and avoidance. This mode of thinking/acting feels like the “safe play,” but often creates more danger than it prevents because striking out looking is typically way worse than going down swinging.

Luckily, we also have what is called the Behavioral Activation System (BAS). This is the “play to win” mode and is the brain’s gas pedal. The BAS is all about pursuit not avoidance, creativity not constriction, vulnerability not protection. It is not intentional recklessness; it is actual trust. The BAS leads to a sense of freedom, confidence, resilience, and joy. 

On the course, court, field, and rink, many athletes unknowingly operate from the BIS and play their own version of the prevent defense, with their foot firmly on the brake pedal, trying not to lose or embarrass themselves. In an attempt to protect a lead (or their ego), they sacrifice so much. 

Therefore, next time you find yourself focusing on the Don’ts, Can’ts, or negative What Ifs spilling from your brain or feel extreme tension in your body, remind yourself that you are simply in the BIS. With awareness and intention, you can take your foot off of the brake, change lanes, and step on that gas pedal, your BAS. One option is to imagine the BIS track in your mind as neon red. Then imagine your car (i.e., your attention and intention) notices a fork in the road and hops onto the neon green, BAS, track. 

My dad was right — the prevent defense doesn’t just prevent points, it prevents progress. The same is true for the mind. Play “not to lose” and you tighten up. Play to win, and you open up and embrace your potential to succeed. The choice — between inhibition and activation — often determines not just the outcome, but the experience.

The Glittery Truth About Bad Advice (And What Actually Works)

If you’ve ever told a tantruming toddler to “calm down,” you know how far bad advice gets you. I’ve heard that bad advice is a lot like glitter — it’s everywhere and impossible to get rid of. The truth is, most people give advice because they’re trying to help, hoping to feel helpful, or just looking to connect. It’s rarely malicious — just a little misguided. Here are a few of the worst pieces of advice performers hear, why they don’t actually help, and how we can do better.

1. Just pretend it didn’t happen.

The brain and body don’t just forget painful experiences — they’re wired to remember them so we don’t repeat them. That’s why “just pretending it didn’t happen” rarely works. Instead, acknowledge the experience, notice how it made you feel, and recognize what you’re thinking about it. Then, refocus on what you can control — your mental and physical response.

2. Be fearless.

Fear isn’t the enemy. In fact, it can be adaptive — a sign that you care, and it can even act as a performance enhancer. Plus, no one is truly fearless. A better goal is to accept fear and act courageously anyway: move forward with the fear, instead of waiting for it to disappear.

3. You must be calm to play your best.

If sportscasters talking about “ice in their veins” have misled you, it’s not your fault. We tend to equate heroic performances with being calm — but that’s not reality. The best in any field often feel just as nervous or scared as the rest of us. The difference is they accept those feelings, focus on what they can control, and move forward bravely.

4. Stop thinking.

Telling someone to stop thinking is like standing on train tracks with your arms out, hoping to halt an oncoming locomotive. The brain is wired to scan, process, and think constantly — trying to stop it is both impossible and unnecessary. A better approach is to become aware of your thoughts, nonjudgmentally, and let them pass freely. It’s like stepping off the tracks, noticing the train go by, and then refocusing on something you can control.

5. Stay Positive at all times.

Another impossibility. Because performers care, they’re bound to feel frustration, sadness, or disappointment when things don’t go as planned. Instead of forcing fake positivity, acknowledge these emotions, consider where they come from, and, to the best of your ability, refocus on the next task.

6. Confidence is knowing you will be successful.

This is a set-up. No one knows or believes they will always be successful—there’s simply too much that is outside of your control. Additionally, that suggests that you will naturally and consistently perform well based on your confidence.l The best baseball players are only successful at the plate three out of ten times. True confidence is believing in your skills and trusting that you’ll be okay if it doesn’t go perfectly. It’s resilience, not certainty, that makes performers confident.

So, I’ll leave you with one piece of unquestioned, undefeated advice: Don’t have glitter in your house. Trust me — your future self will thank you.

Have a Hobby

Some recognize this musical icon as Bey, some by Beyonce, but how about Queen Beekeeper? Did you know that Beyonce is an avid beekeeper and cares for several hives at home?

How about Mookie Lebettski? All-star baseball player Mookie Betts just so happens to be a professional-caliber bowler.

OR my personal favorite, DJ D-Sol (also known as David Solomon, CEO of Goldman Sachs) who, in addition to his impressive day job, has over 280,000 monthly Spotify listeners. 

It may come as a surprise that these three wildly successful individuals, and many others like them passionately pursue other hobbies. But, research is clear: cultivating diverse interests — and therefore multiple identities — enhances performance and supports career longevity. Hobbies also tend to reduce burnout, improve creativity, and aid recovery.

Far too often, the identity of high performers is unidimensional. They become defined by their main pursuit. “I am an athlete.” “I am a musical artist.” “I am an executive.” When individuals recognize their many interests, core values, and personality traits, it can relieve some of the unnecessary pressure of living up to one’s singular view of themselves. 

It appears that we're at our best when we’re more than just one thing. A fuller sense of self doesn’t dilute your performance—it enhances and sustains it.

Fear Preys on the Unprepared

Imagine you are walking, unsuspectingly, down an L-shaped hallway when, out of nowhere, someone jumps out and screams in your face. At best, you jump backwards and gasp; at worst, the person who has frightened you gets an old-fashioned knuckle sandwich. Now, envision you are walking down a straight hallway when you see a passerby approaching from roughly 20-feet. As they come close, they shout, “Boo!” You give them a puzzled look, perhaps chuckle, and continue your progress, taking the sudden or unexpected outburst in stride. That “corner” can be the opening serve of a match, the first tee box, the moment before stepping up to a podium and speaking to a crowded room.  Fear loves to hide around the corner, and when it does, it hijacks performance. 

When we are prepared for moments of fear, we move out of reactivity and into deliberate action. We use the rational/thinking part of the brain, not just the survival portions of our brains. We respond thoughtfully, not just instinctively. Proactively preparing for moments of performance anxiety, understanding our anxiety triggers, and responding with clarity creates power and control in performance settings. 

The goal is not to eliminate the fear altogether (fear is normal and even protective—it keeps us safe and it signals that we value what we are doing). Instead, our mission is to move from “reacting” to “responding.” To do that, we must prepare our minds as much as we prepare our bodies for these L-shaped hallway moments. 

In order to turn Oh S*** moments into Oh Yeah moments in the future, try to: 

• Anticipate the Corners: Know your triggers and expect pressure-packed moments to alter your mind and body…Be sure to have a “Response Plan.”

• Breathe!: In through the nose, out through the mouth to ground yourself.

• Anchor yourself: Have a mantra/word that calms/focuses your brain or rely on a small physical gesture that clears mental clutter (i.e., Tipping your cap, closing your golf glove, etc.). 

• Reframe the Signal: Remind yourself that you are excited, prepared, and fear indicates value.

• Run Mental Reps: Visualize, using all five senses, encountering moments of fear with clarity, commitment, and calm focus.

What Does Try your Best Really Mean?

Try your best is definitely better advice than be the best, but is it really good advice? We can all agree that this platitude highlights the importance of exerting maximum effort, but it is frustratingly vague. What does “best” even mean? How do you quantify best? A result? A feeling? Exhaustion? 

Without a clear measure, this advice is hard to act on and often leaves individuals asking: Did I train hard enough? Was that truly my best? Could I have prepared differently? This ambiguity breads a cycle of striving, falling short of impossible standards, harshly overanalyzing perceived shortcomings and feeling perpetual disappointment.

This euphemism seems to be particularly problematic for the hypercritical, talented perfectionist. Similarly, for those most accustomed to winning, trying your best tends to be equated with victory, not effort, outcome, not process. skilled (and often hypercritical), Trying your best is frequently tied to external markers—winning, PRs, accolades—and does not account for uncontrollable factors like circumstance, luck and the performance of others.

Instead of telling others to “try their best”, coaches, parents, mentors and those being encouraged to perform would benefit from more specificity. Speak with clarity about what preparedness looks and feels like. Discuss the importance of resilience, a growth mindset, and maintaining focus. Talk about the many ways “success” can be defined.” In the end, “try your best” isn’t bad advice, it’s just incomplete.

The Warden and the Prisoner

For the length of his term, an inmate wakes each morning, completes his daily routine, and ends his day with his head on the flattened jail pillow. Feeling trapped and imprisoned, unable to come and go as he pleases, he laments the reality of his concrete world and wishes he could escape. As he paces around his cell, keys on his waist jingle and jangle. Only later does he realize the truth—the keys to his jail cell have been in his possession the entire time. He is not only the prisoner—he is the warden as well. 

When we engage in negative self-talk, we step into that same prison. We believe the belittling voice in our heads and entrap ourselves, forgetting that we are the captive and captor. Here’s the paradox: if your thoughts can lock the door, they can also unlock it. The same voice that locks you up can set you free.

It can be unsettling to realize your own negative self-talk is what’s keeping you stuck—but it can also be liberating. Reclaiming control starts with how you respond to patterned, negative thinking. So the next time you hear that familiar jingling, reach for the keys and step into your freedom.

The Keys to Unlocking Your Mental Prison

-Breathe: Deep breathing is not only calming, but helps you regain access to your “thinking brain.”

- Practice Self-Compassion: Speak to yourself as you would a loved one or friend.

-Acceptance: Accept automatic, intrusive, negative thinking, but focus instead on your response to it.

-Mindfulness: Watch negative thoughts pass by like clouds in the sky, cars on a highway, or scores scrolling on the ESPN ticker.

Obey the Speed Limit

If you have played even one or two rounds of golf, you’ve been there. One bad shot turns into two, self-compassion turns into self-criticism, and your once calm, slow pace—mentally and physically—is now traveling at the speed of light. As the fight-or-flight response activates, everything becomes more rapid: heart rate, breath rate, walking pace, thoughts, and yes, even your swing. As your pace accelerates, unfortunately, so does your score.

It makes sense. When things go poorly, you either want to get it back on track as quickly as possible or escape even faster. 

This is not unique to golf—human brains are wired to prioritize safety when they sense a threat. The quickest path to “safety” is avoidance. Unfortunately, our brains cannot distinguish between a physical threat (i.e, the lion chasing you) and an emotional threat (i.e., embarrassment, disappointment, discomfort). Whereas speeding up would actually protect you from physical threats, it often exacerbates emotional pain and scorecard peril. 

So, next time you are on the course and one poor shot turns into two, notice the rapidity of your heart rate, breath, and unproductive thinking and Obey the Speed Limit. Consciously walk slower, inhale and exhale more slowly, even waggle slower. As your breathing, thinking, and routine decrease in tempo, your brain recognizes that “we are not in actual danger” and immediately you regain control of your round. Bad shots happen—spirals don’t have to. If you decelerate, you are not just managing your game, you are mastering your mind.

The "Eras Tour" Blueprint: The Science of Peak Performance

What you saw: 149 sold-out shows over 21 months. 517 hours on stage. Concerts spanning five continents and 21 countries. More than $2 billion in ticket sales, $440 million in merchandise, and a concert film grossing $261 million. These are just a few of the mind-boggling Eras Tour stats.

What you didn’t see: Three-hour punishing treadmill runs while belting out 40-plus songs as if she were on-stage. Six days a week in the gym. More than three months of choreography rehearsals until every move became second nature. Regular ice baths, physical therapy, and mobility work. Post-show vocal cool-downs. Abstinence from alcohol. Prioritizing sleep. Even full days intentionally spent in bed to recover her voice and revitalize her body. This was the process behind the curtain.

Greatness doesn’t just descend onto the stage from the rafters in front of thousands of adoring fans. It doesn’t happen by chance or luck. And, it is most certainly not only natural talent. It is the result of impeccable planning , unshakable resolve, relentless pursuit and off the scale grit. Sure, the Eras Tour outcomes are stunning, but the process behind these outcomes is even more awe-inspiring. 

Swifties and onlookers saw the packed stadiums, crying fans, astounding ticket resale prices, and nightly routines/rituals, but if you look more closely you would have seen a master performer reaping the benefits of deliberate preparation, commitment to a larger purpose (she ultimately bought back the rights to her entire song catalogue with her earnings), and a clear focus on what she could control.

Taylor Swift isn’t just a musician. She is an athlete. She is a professional. Taylor Swift is a Peak Performer. 

Adjust your Effort OR Adjust your Expectations

How’s your Mandarin? How about your knife juggling? Tight-rope walking? 

Probably not great. 

And, that’s perfectly reasonable—you also likely do not expect to be proficient in these objectively difficult tasks. When we have not put in the time to practice, learn, and improve, typically we do not feel frustrated with our struggles.  Our expectations are aligned with our practice.

So why is it that golfers who never go to the range, rarely practice putting, and seldom do skill drills slice their first drive, curse under their breath, and spend the rest of the round bathing in frustration? Sure, they have not performed up to their standards on the course, but is the problem related to their performance or their expectation.

There’s an old saying, “You can’t have million dollar dreams and ten dollar habits.” Golf is no different, so you have a choice: adjust your effort or adjust your expectations. 

2,632 Straight: Lessons from the Ironman

 For a young boy growing up in Baltimore, Maryland, it was a no-brainer: if you liked sports, Cal Ripken Jr. was your hero:

• 21-year Major League Baseball Career

• 19-time All-Star

• Rookie of the Year Award winner

• 2-time AL MVP

• 3,184 career hits, 431 home runs,1695 RBIs

• The only player in MLB history to be managed by his father while playing alongside his brother

You might read this list and think: Of course he was great—he came from a baseball family, he was naturally gifted. But focusing on that obvious advantage might cause you to miss the point completely.

Because I left out the most important stat of all: 

Cal Ripken Jr., The Ironman, played 2,632 consecutive games—spanning more than 16 seasons—without missing a single start.

Sure, he was tall, athletic, and redefined the shortstop position, but what made him an athletic hero wasn’t his raw talent and gaudy numbers, it was his consistency, his durability, and his commitment to his team and the process. Cal could have acted entitled—the son of the coach, the golden boy—but instead, he embodied the hard hat lunch pail approach. In his Hall of Fame Speech, he said, “I never really thought about the streak… I wanted to come to the ballpark… to help the team win.”

The lesson is simple: Show up every day, rain or shine, ready to learn and grow.   Commit yourself to the process of improvement rather than focusing on the results and good things will happen. 

Chase dedication, commitment and grit—not outcomes.

Scottie “Dragonfly” Scheffler: Golf’s Quietest, Deadliest Predator

The Shark. The Bear. The Hawk. Tiger. Some of the fiercest predators on planet earth are also the nicknames of golf’s great champions: Greg Norman, Jack Nicklaus, Ben Hogan, and of course Tiger Woods. Surprisingly, none of these apex predators can match nature’s most efficient killer: The Dragonfly. What the dragonfly lacks in size, it makes up for in efficiency—with an astounding hunting success rate of 95%. Put simply, if you are in the dragonfly’s sights, you are lunch. Perhaps golf historians have been holding back, waiting for the perfect candidate. Well, wait no more. Meet Scottie Scheffler: The Dragonfly.

With nearly 360-degree vision and virtually no blind spots, they can predict their prey's path, intercept them mid-air and paralyze them with their vice-like grip. If that’s not terrifying enough, these aerial assassins employ motion camouflage—moving silently and imperceptibly until it’s too late. In the rare moments where they do misjudge an attack, their four wings adjust independently, so they can course correct in milliseconds. This is why they are nature’s deadliest hunters.

In his ascent to world number one, Scheffler shows the same traits. He appears to have no blind spots and if you are in his sights, he will track you down and finish you off with the calmness of an elderly couple on a Sunday stroll. By Sunday afternoon, competitors do not seem to know what hit them, stunned as the golf course bends to his will. On the uncommon occasion he falters, he immediately recovers, leading the tour in bounce-back percentage. Just as the dragonfly can hover, fly backwards, forwards and upside-down, Scheffler possesses all of the maneuvers, every shot in the bag. Each drive, chip, and putt a mesmerizing display as he strategically glides to yet another victory. 

Sure, the dragonfly may not have mesmerizing stripes, massive paws, talons, or razor-sharp teeth. It is unassuming, workmanlike—and some may even say boring. The same critique has followed Scheffer, who seems to only be concerned with two things: winning and family. Since when is efficiency boring? Since when is winning mundane?

From here forward, Scottie joins the ranks of golf’s great on-course predators and has a terrifying nickname of his own. All hail Scottie “Dragonfly” Scheffler. 

Reframe the Feeling. Rewrite the Result.

On a crisp fall morning, two golfers—one at Augusta National and the other at Pebble Beach—approach the first tee at exactly the same time. Though separated by hundreds of miles, their bodies respond in identical ways—rapid breathing, stomach butterflies, fast beating hearts, sweaty palms, and tense muscles.

One appraises this bodily experience as anxiety, a signal that he is unsure, insecure, and certain to fail. The other defines this physical experience as a sign of excitement, readiness, and the thrill of competition.

Appraisal theory suggests that your interpretation of a sensation (physical, cognitive, or emotional) shapes your experience. The fast beating heart could be a signal impending doom, but it also could be a result of excitement and readiness. When the “false alarm” of performance anxiety blares, reappraisal or redefinition is the key-pad code that silences the noise. As the Stoics preached, it is not the events themselves, but our judgment of them that shapes emotion.

So, the next time you tee it up, step on stage or approach the podium, remember that your fast beating heart, shallow breathing, and muscle tension don’t need to mean you are afraid. They can mean you are prepared and excited to seize the opportunity in front of you.

Get Lost.

One oppressively muggy summer afternoon, when I was six, I was dropped off by a friend’s parents at my grandparents’ house. Unbeknownst to these well-meaning adults, my grandparents had forgotten I was to be their responsibility that afternoon and they were not at home. It became immediately apparent to me that I was now alone, locked out of their house, and completely petrified. Since this was way before the advent of cellphones, I did what any wise six-year-old would do—lost my tiny mind and started screaming “HELP!” Getting lost—or even feeling lost—can be a miserable experience. It’s lonely, confusing, and scary.

But, is getting lost always a bad thing? I’d argue that, when it comes to performance, getting lost in the process is not terrifying, it’s downright delightful. Have you ever been so present, so deeply engaged in your performance that all of the other distractions (i.e., the results, what others think, even what you think) all fade to black? Whereas focusing on the results often leads to distraction, anxiety, frustration, and poorer performance, getting lost in the process can lead to a flow state—where effort feels effortless.

Put most simply, the process is what you CAN control. It is your practice, your pre-shot routine, remaining in the present moment, and what you choose to focus on. So, maybe getting lost isn’t always something to avoid, but rather something to aim for—as long as you are getting lost in the right things, those things that bring you joy or lead to desired growth. So, get lost in the present moment, in your breath, in your process. Who knows, if you get lost in the process, those results you’ve been chasing  might just find you.

What is Winning Anyway?

NFL: One Super Bowl Winner, 31 Losers

MLB: One Major League Champion, 29 Losers

NHL: One Stanley Cup Winner, 31 Losers

Masters: One Champion, 89 Losers

Wimbledon: One Slam Winner, 127 Losers

Yes, one team or athlete lifts the trophy—but are they truly the only winners? I’d argue that “winning” is far more nuanced: it's subjective, personal, and often defined by something deeper than the final score. 

So, what really defines winning? It clearly varies from person to person. For some, it’s the scoreboard statistics or tallys. For others it's simply participating, the comeback, the courage found, the growth initiated, or even the decision to step away.

After experiencing the “twisties” in the 2020 Tokyo Olympics—Simone Biles, arguably the greatest gymnast of all time—made the brave decision to sit out multiple events and prioritize her physical and mental health. Days later, she returned to win a bronze medal on the beam. For someone with seven gold medals, that bronze is likely her greatest triumph. Why? Because it embodied determination in the face of adversity, true courage, leadership, vulnerability, and a redefinition of success.

How about Rachel Hyland, the St. Lawrence University runner who, meters from the finish line in the Division III 5,000 meter race, stopped to help fellow competitor Maddy Adams who collapsed in front of her. She carried her to the finish line. She didn’t win the race, but won the hearts of many.

Maybe your “win” is holding the trophy, but what if your victory was a new personal best, growth under pressure, or learning something about your game that will help in future competitions? This shift in perspective is, in fact, a way to recognize that something meaningful and helpful can be taken from each performance. An improvement from your last performance, overcoming a fear, gaining experience, a personal record, simply finishing, or displaying strong sportsmanship— I would contend that these are all victories too. 

You don’t need to win in the literal sense to be successful—but you do need a clear understanding of what success looks like to you.” Winning isn’t just a result. Sometimes it’s a decision, a moment, or a mindset.

The question is: How do you define it?