The Last Play Gave You Feedback, Not a Forecast

I’ll never forget the golf game against my husband when I was ahead by six strokes going into the back nine. That never happens. I was playing well, feeling confident, and already imagining how satisfying it would be to finish the round with the win.

Then I started making mistakes. Maybe because I’m a Minnesota sports fan and throwing away leads is part of our identity, or maybe because my history of inadequate performance was getting to my head.

I shanked one shot left, overcompensated and sliced the next one right, then ended up in the sand. With every mistake, I became more frustrated. By that point, I wanted to snap my nine iron in half.

Don’t be disappointed if I tell you this game did not happen on an actual golf course. It happened on our PlayStation 5. And it’s happened more times than I can count. Even so, the mental performance challenge was completely real, and something we as humans experience every day.

One poor shot created frustration, and that frustration followed me into the next shot, then the next hole. Before long, I was no longer responding to the shot in front of me. I was reacting to all the shots that had already happened. The last hole was giving me feedback, but I was treating it like a forecast.

We often talk about poor performance as though the mistake itself caused everything that followed. The missed putt ruined the round. The difficult customer ruined the service provided the rest of the shift. The missed deadline threatened the project. The awkward moment ruined the presentation.

Sometimes the original mistake does matter. It may reveal a gap in preparation, communication, judgment, skill, or execution. But often, the greater damage comes from the emotional reaction we carry into the next moment.

Pressure, frustration, fear, embarrassment, or disappointment can trigger an immediate interpretation of what happened. We begin thinking, “I’m falling apart,” “This always happens,” or “I’ve already ruined it.” That thought then shapes the next decision. We rush, overcorrect, become defensive, stop listening, hold back, or try so hard to repair the last mistake that we lose focus on what is happening now.

The original mistake may have lasted only a few seconds. The emotional residue can influence everything we do afterward.

This is where emotional intelligence becomes directly connected to performance. It is not simply about recognizing that we are upset. It is about noticing how the emotion is beginning to influence our thoughts, choices, and expectations for what will happen next.

The emotion is real. The forecast we build from it may not be.

Stretching the space…

In my Stitch It Up! program, I use the phrase “stretch the space.” It refers to our ability to recognize emotional tension as it begins to build, and then create enough of a pause to examine what is happening before we react.

That tension may feel like stress, anxiety, fear, frustration, pressure, or judgment. We cannot always prevent the feeling from arriving, nor should we pretend it is not there. But we can become more aware of what the feeling is prompting us to think and do.

Feeling frustrated does not mean the rest of the day will be frustrating. Feeling embarrassed does not mean the entire performance was a failure. Feeling anxious does not mean we are incapable of handling the next moment.

Stretching the space allows us to separate what happened from the meaning we are assigning to it. We can acknowledge the feeling without allowing it to make every decision that follows.

That distinction can shape much more than a golf game.

When one mistake becomes a forecast…

One summer during high school, I was performing with a dance troupe and was given one of my first solos. I was supposed to sing a Madonna song, and I was incredibly nervous.

When the moment came for the words to come out of my mouth, I sang a completely different song. Worse, it was someone else’s solo that was supposed to appear later in the performance.

I was mortified.

That moment could easily have become a forecast about my future as a performer. I could have decided I was not meant to be onstage, that I could not be trusted with a solo, or that performing simply was not for me. Many people might never have stepped onstage again after an experience like that.

I did.

Over time, I chose to treat the experience as a lesson. It taught me something about nerves, preparation, and what pressure can do to our thinking. More importantly, it taught me that one mistake, even a very public one, did not have to become an identity.

Not everyone walks away after a painful mistake. Sometimes the effect is more subtle. People continue performing, leading, speaking, contributing, or taking part, but they begin doing it more cautiously. They hold back. They avoid risk. They become so focused on preventing another mistake that they stop trusting themselves.

The original moment is long over, but the forecast continues to follow them.

Reflection is often presented as the solution to mistakes, but not everything we call reflection is useful.

Sometimes we are not reflecting at all. We are replaying, overthinking, judging ourselves, and picking apart every detail. Rumination stays focused on what happened and turns the mistake into evidence against us. It asks, “How could I have done that?” “What must everyone think of me?” or “Why can’t I ever get this right?”

Productive reflection does something different. It examines the past without becoming trapped there. It asks what happened, what can be learned, and what needs to happen next.

That does not mean ignoring poor choices or avoiding accountability. In fact, honest reflection requires us to look clearly at the choices we made and the outcomes they produced. The difference is that we evaluate the choice without turning it into a verdict about our character, competence, or future.

As a professional speaker and trainer, I have countless opportunities to criticize my own performance. I can remember the sentence I forgot, the word I tripped over, the transition that felt awkward, or the hand I did not notice in the back of the room. There is almost always something I could pick apart.

But replaying every imperfect moment does not automatically make me better.

Instead, I ask myself what I did well, whether I accomplished the goal, and what I could do differently next time. That process allows me to be honest without becoming destructive. A forgotten sentence may be useful feedback. It is not proof that the entire presentation failed or that the audience received no value.

Reflection helps me learn from the performance without allowing one moment to define the performer.

A Stitch It Up! reflection reset...

When a mistake, disappointment, or stressful moment threatens to follow you forward, the four parts of the Stitch It Up! framework can provide a useful reflection process.

These questions do not erase the mistake, and they are not meant to. They help us determine what information is useful, what emotional weight no longer serves us, and what choice will give us the best opportunity for the outcome we still want.

The same pattern plays out across teams. One difficult interaction can influence the rest of a shift. One missed deadline can create fear around the next decision. One failed idea can make people reluctant to contribute another.

Teams need reflective habits, but reflection does not become healthy simply because a leader schedules a debrief. It requires thoughtful coaching, strong leadership, and enough psychological safety for people to examine their choices honestly.

When every mistake is met with blame, embarrassment, or an attack on someone’s competence, people become more concerned with protecting themselves than with learning. They withhold information, avoid responsibility, and hesitate to take reasonable risks.

Leaders influence whether reflection becomes a tool for improvement or another form of punishment. There is an important difference between asking, “Who caused this?” and asking, “What choices contributed to this outcome, and what do we need to do next?”

This does not mean leaders should ignore repeated problems, poor judgment, or a lack of accountability. Some situations require direct correction, clearer expectations, additional support, or meaningful consequences. But accountability should help create a better next outcome, not simply punish the last one.

A team’s ability to improve depends not only on whether it reviews performance, but also on whether people can separate a poor choice from a permanent judgment about the person who made it.

Carry forward the lesson.

Every difficult moment gives us something. It may reveal a skill we need to strengthen, a conversation we need to have, an expectation we need to clarify, or a choice we need to reconsider.

But not everything from the moment deserves to come with us.

The frustration may not be useful. The shame may not be accurate. The belief that the rest of the day is already ruined may become the very thing that ruins it.

Whether you are walking toward the next tee, entering the next meeting, serving the next customer, or stepping back onto a stage, the question is the same: What will you carry forward?

The last hole is already over. You cannot replay the shot, but you still get to choose how you approach the next one.

Carry forward the lesson, not the emotion created by imperfection.

And if you nailed it, Good job. Put that performance on repeat.