It was a difficult weekend.

Both the men’s and women’s Team Canada hockey teams lost.

It wasn't because effort was lacking.
It wasn't because preparation was insufficient.
It wasn't because talent was absent.

In the quiet aftermath—when the arena empties and the cameras move on—I found myself thinking about something we rarely discuss in leadership circles:

Sometimes your best simply isn’t good enough.

We resist that idea. It unsettles our meritocratic instincts. We prefer the comforting narrative that outcomes are a direct reflection of inputs—preparation guarantees performance and performance guarantees victory.

High performance guarantees only one thing: You gave yourself a chance.

That distinction matters.

The Meritocracy Myth

In business, as in sport, we cling to a tidy equation:

Preparation + Effort + Execution = Winning.

The world is more complicated than that. Markets shift. Competitors surge. Timing intervenes. Variance intrudes. Even at the highest level, outcomes are probabilistic.

What struck me watching those games wasn’t the scoreboard. It was what happened after. Within days, many of those athletes boarded flights back to their professional clubs. They step into new arenas, new game plans and new expectations. They don't have the luxury of existential reflection. Professional sport—like professional life—demands forward motion.

This is where leadership reveals itself.

After the game, one player offered a simple line:

“You be the judge of who the better team was today.” — Nate MacKinnon

You could read that as defensiveness, or you could read it as something more nuanced: a refusal to let a single outcome define the totality of performance. Elite performers understand a subtle but powerful distinction: excellence and outcome are related, but not synonymous.

The Difference Between “Getting Over It” and Moving Through It

After any public loss—whether in sport, business or politics—commentators inevitably say, “They’ve got to get over it.” Elite performers do not “get over” setbacks. They move through them. Getting over something implies suppression. It suggests emotional bypassing. Move on. Don’t dwell. Ignore the sting.

Moving through failure is different. It requires acknowledgment. It demands processing. It allows for disappointment without surrendering identity.

Psychologist Angela Duckworth, in her research on grit, argues that sustained achievement is less about raw talent and more about perseverance across time. She is not alluding to blind persistence. She is not endorsing forced positivity. Duckworth's definition of grit is the ability to remain engaged with a long-term mission despite short-term turbulence. All high performers need that.

The best do not pretend it didn’t hurt. They simply refuse to let hurt hijack their identity.

This distinction shows up in organizations all the time. A product launch fails. A strategic partnership collapses. A quarterly target is missed. In those moments, leaders face a fork in the road:

• Do we catastrophize? Or,
• Do we contextualize?

The former inflates the setback into a referendum on competence. The latter treats it as data.

Reset Speed: The Invisible Advantage

Performance psychologists sometimes speak of 'reset speed'—the time it takes for an individual or team to emotionally and cognitively re-engage after disappointment.

Elite performers reduce reset time. They don’t deny the loss. They don’t shortcut reflection. They accelerate refocus. Watch what professionals do in the days after a setback:

They ask disciplined questions:

• What was within our control?
• Where did we execute well?
• Where did the margin slip?
• What is the next task?

Then they go back to work.

There is something profoundly stabilizing about that sequence. It anchors identity not in outcomes, but in process.

In leadership, we often underestimate how destabilizing a visible loss can be. A CEO absorbs market criticism. A coach fields questions about roster decisions. A manager defends a failed initiative. The temptation is to overcorrect—to change everything at once in order to signal responsiveness.

Elite performers resist reactive swings. They understand variance. They commit to mastery rather than control.

You can lead well and still face resistance.
You can prepare brilliantly and still fall short.
You can perform at a high level and still lose.

Professionals live inside that tension.

The Professional Mindset

Here is the uncomfortable truth: professionals do not have the luxury of emotional spirals.

By midweek, the athletes are playing again. By next quarter, the executive is reporting again. By Monday morning, the team is back in the meeting room.

In business, we sometimes dramatize setbacks. We treat a lost client as if it defines the firm. We interpret a failed initiative as proof of systemic incompetence. Professionals understand something quieter: there is still a job to do. They prepare. They show up. They perform again. This is not denial. It is discipline. It is a form of grounded belief that says, “The result did not go our way. The mission remains.”

The Quiet Confidence of High Performers

The most interesting quality in elite environments is not swagger. It is steadiness. Call it quiet confidence. Quiet confidence is not arrogance nor bravado. It's not revisionist storytelling. Quiet confidence is a calm internal narrative: “I am still capable.”

That steadiness is what allows someone like MacKinnon to make a comment that reframes performance without dismissing outcome. It is what allows an athlete to feel the sting of defeat and still step into the next arena with conviction.

In leadership, quiet confidence shows up when:

• A founder loses funding but continues to build.
• A division misses earnings but doubles down on disciplined strategy.
• A coach loses a championship game but returns to training with clarity rather than chaos.

This is not blind optimism. It is emotional regulation tethered to purpose.

What Leaders Can Learn

There are at least three lessons here for leaders:

1. Separate identity from outcome.
   If your sense of competence rises and falls entirely with results, volatility will exhaust you. Anchor identity in standards and preparation, not scoreboards.
2. Shorten reset time without suppressing emotion.
   Allow space for disappointment—but put a boundary around rumination. Reflection should produce insight, not paralysis.
3. Recommit publicly to the work.
   After a visible loss, your team watches your response more than the result. Calm recommitment is contagious.

Sometimes your best isn’t enough.

That sentence is not an indictment. It is a reality check. Leadership is not about guaranteeing victory. Leadership is about modeling how to respond when victory doesn’t come.

The athletes from Team Canada will skate again. They will train again. They will compete again. The mission continues.

In business, as in sport, the scoreboard resets, and the real measure of leadership is not whether you avoid setbacks. It is how quickly—and how steadily—you lace up again.