The excuse that sounds like the truth
On October 10, Dylan Raiola had the worst night of his college career.
The Oregon quarterback was starting in place of an injured starter. He completed 6 of 19 passes for 43 yards and threw two interceptions before his coach pulled him for the third-stringer, and Oregon lost to UCLA 17–15 at home.
Oregon turned it over 7 times that night and converted 1-12 third downs. Plenty of people had a hand in that loss, and he could have pointed at any of them.
Instead, he walked into the press conference. When a reporter asked why he’d bothered, he said his younger brother Dayton, a freshman on the same roster, looks up to him. “This isn’t just football, this is life.”
He could have owned 40% of that loss and been right. He chose to own all of it.
I wrote about this in my first book, Compete Every Day, because I learned it the hard way. In 2017, coming off our best year ever with the apparel line, sales started sliding. I had a list of reasons ready: expo booths were getting more expensive, more competitors were showing up, and everyone seemed to be racing to sell the cheapest version of what we made. All of that was true.
What I left off the list was me. I’d taken my foot off the gas after that big year (aka, Victory Drifted) and started pouring my time into building a speaking business, while the part of the company that was paying the bills got whatever was left.
The market made it harder, but I was the one who put us in that spot. Honestly, it was a bad spot. It wasn’t until I owned that part that I could start fixing it.
It turns out there’s research on why owning it works, even when the blame is shared.
In 2004, a team of psychologists read 21 years of shareholder letters from 14 companies. When a year went badly, some companies blamed the economy or new regulations, and others pointed at their own decisions. A year later, the companies that owned it had higher stock prices.
In plain English, owning the miss tells everyone, including you, that your hands are still on the wheel.
That’s the Ego Gap at work. The excuse protects your picture of yourself (I’m disciplined, the week just blew up) while the result sits there telling a different story.
Because the excuse is usually partly true, it’s easy to believe. Every “it wasn’t really my fault” adds a little more fog between where you think you are and where you actually are.
You can’t close a gap you won’t acknowledge.
This week, pick one thing that didn’t go the way you wanted: the workout you cut short, the side-project deadline that slid, the night you snapped at the kids.
Before Sunday night, block 15 minutes and write down everything that contributed to it.
Then circle the pieces that were yours, even if they only add up to 5%, because the 5% is the only part of a setback you can actually train.
Finish with one sentence: Next time, I will ___.
Raiola doesn’t control his offensive teammates, and you don’t control the whole scoreboard either. Own your part and go compete.
I'm cheering for you Reader.
