Sunday Notes From the Deep End

I used to think I might make it to the Senior PGA Tour. Not anymore - I'm not even close, never was, and I've made peace with that. But for a while, when I'd watch tournaments on TV and see the purse distributions, I'd do the math on what it takes to have a legitimate career on tour.

Here's what I learned: if you can make it to the PGA Tour, you can build a solid career without ever once winning a tournament.

Think about that. Twenty years of playing professional golf. Finishing in the money three-fifths of the time. Occasionally cracking the top ten. Never hoisting a trophy. Never getting your name engraved on anything. Never hearing Jim Nantz describe your "incredible victory."

Would I take that career? Absolutely. I'd make millions, probably pick up some endorsements, and retire into a commentator job. All without ever being first.

Is that settling? Is that admitting defeat? Or is that understanding how success actually works for the vast majority of people who achieve it?

I played both football and basketball in college. Nothing glamorous - I wasn't headed to the pros. But it taught me something about competition that most people never internalize.

There are nearly two thousand colleges in the United States that play basketball. At the end of every season, unless you win one of the seven major postseason tournaments, you're going to end your season with a loss.

Let that sink in. You might be a Division I powerhouse. You might have had an incredible season. You might make it deep into March Madness. But 67 of the 68 teams in that tournament are going to end their great season with a disappointment.

Does that make them losers? Does that mean their season was a failure?

Of course not. They competed at the highest level. They beat dozens of other teams. They got better throughout the season. They experienced the thrill of competition and the bonds of teamwork. The fact that someone else ultimately won it all doesn't negate any of that.

But we've been conditioned to think it does. We've internalized a toxic binary: you either win or you lose. First place or failure. Champion or chump.

That's not just wrong - it's mathematically absurd.

In any competitive field with thousands of participants, the odds of being number one are ridiculous. There's one richest person in the world. One fastest marathoner. One top-grossing real estate investor. One founding CEO who sells for the most billions.

The rest of us? We're somewhere in the pack.

But here's what nobody tells you: the top 10% lives remarkably well. So does the top 20%. Even the top 50% in most competitive fields is doing better than the majority of people who never entered the arena at all.

You don't have to be Elon Musk to be wealthy. You don't have to win the Boston Marathon to be an exceptional runner. You don't have to flip more houses than anyone in America to build generational wealth through real estate.

You just have to be good enough, consistently enough, to stay in the game and accumulate wins over time.

The Bronze Medal Phenomenon

There's fascinating research on Olympic athletes that reveals something counterintuitive: bronze medalists are often happier than silver medalists.

Why? Because the silver medalist focuses on "I almost won. I was so close. If only..." They're haunted by what they didn't achieve.

The bronze medalist thinks "I made the podium! I'm one of the three best in the world at this thing!" They're grateful for what they did achieve.

It's the same podium. The only difference is framing.

Most of us will never stand on any podium. But we can choose whether to focus on all the people ahead of us or recognize how far we've come from where we started.

Here's something else nobody talks about: many of the wealthiest, most successful people, you've never heard of.

They didn't win the startup lottery and sell for billions. They didn't become household names. They didn't revolutionize industries or appear on magazine covers.

They built solid businesses. They made smart investments. They sold companies for life-changing but not headline-making amounts. They accumulated wealth steadily over decades.

They never finished first in anything. They just finished in the money, over and over again, until they didn't need to compete anymore.

That's never-first success. And it's available to far more people than winner-take-all success ever will be.

You don't need to be the biggest flipper in your market. You don't need to own the largest multifamily portfolio in your state. You don't need to wholesale more deals than anyone else or have a YouTube channel with millions of subscribers documenting your success.

You just need to do enough deals, done well enough, to build the wealth and freedom you want.

Some investors will do 100 flips a year. Good for them. If you do 10 and they're profitable, you're still winning. You're still building wealth. You're still creating the life you want.

Never-first success.

Now let me be clear about what I'm not saying. I'm not advocating for mediocrity. I'm not suggesting you aim low or give up easily. I'm not saying participation trophies have value or that everyone deserves recognition just for showing up.

Swing for the fences. Try your hardest to win. Compete with everything you've got.

The pursuit of excellence is noble and profitable. Even if you don't win, or finish on top, you will be far better than if you never tried. And that puts you in a better position no matter what happens next.

The distinction is this: try to win, but don't let "not winning" convince you that you failed.

Because here's the brutal truth: the answer to every unasked question is "no." The final position of every non-entrant is somewhere behind "last place."

The person who never enters the tournament doesn't lose - they just never play. And not playing guarantees you'll never win, never improve, never experience the thrill of competition, and never build the skills that separate achievers from dreamers.

There's a paradox here that trips people up. How do you remain ambitious and driven while also being content with never-first success? Doesn't contentment breed complacency?

Not if you understand the difference.

Complacency says "this is good enough, so I'll stop trying." Contentment says "this is good, and I'm grateful for it, while I continue working toward something better."

Complacency is the enemy of achievement. Contentment is the foundation of sustainable effort.

You can be grateful for finishing in the top 20% while still working to crack the top 10%. You can be proud of your solid career while still pushing for that breakthrough year. You can appreciate where you are while refusing to stay there.

The key is not letting the pursuit of first place rob you of the joy and pride that comes from legitimate achievement at any level.

I'll never play on the Senior Tour. But I still play golf occasionally, and I still work to improve. Not because I think I'll win tournaments, but because the pursuit itself is valuable.

I enjoy the game more now than when I thought I might turn pro. Because I'm not haunted by unfulfilled expectations. I'm just trying to play better golf than I did last year. (In fact, I consider it a good day if I find more balls in the woods than I lose.)

That's enough. It has to be, because for most of us, that's all we get: incremental improvement, occasional victories, lots of learning from losses, and the satisfaction of knowing we showed up and competed.

So here's what I want you to consider: What have you not attempted because you knew you wouldn't finish first?

What business didn't you start because someone else was already doing it better? What skill didn't you develop because you'd never be the best? What competition did you skip because you probably wouldn't win?

How much of your potential remains unrealized because you've bought into the lie that anything less than first place is failure?

Whatever your hand finds to do, do it with all your might. Try your hardest to win. Give it everything you've got. Compete with intensity and purpose.

Then relax with the majority of those who don't finish first, secure in the simple assurance that you gave it your all. You entered the arena. You competed. You improved. You finished somewhere in the pack, which is infinitely better than finishing behind last place with all the people who never tried.

Never-first success isn't settling. It's the reality of how most successful, wealthy, happy people actually live.

The question isn't whether you'll finish first. The question is whether you'll compete at all.