It is the quarterfinals against Serbia at the Olympics. Patty Mills hit a buzzer-beater to send the game to overtime. The arena exploded.
I'd played well. The coach decided to leave me in.
As I sat on the bench listening to the coach, pressure tipped into panic. My eyes started to scatter. My breathing sped up. My chest got tight. My leg started shaking.
Then the thoughts came. What if I mess this up? I don't belong out here. I can't guard Nikola Jokić.
It wasn't basketball anymore. It felt like a test on who I was.
Right before I went over the edge, years of preparation kicked in. I caught the stress. I went back to a framework I'd built from earlier failures.
CALM.
Catch the signal—I noticed fear and doubt taking over
Accept the wave—this is what high performance feels like
Lock onto one anchor—I slowed my breath and repeated: I'm grateful to be here
Make one move—one job, one action: sprint back, talk early, contest without fouling
We lost the game. But in overtime, I scored seven points. I hit big shots on Jokic and played great defence. But most importantly, I handled the pressure and was proud of myself.
In the most pressure-filled moment of my career, I rose. Not because I was more talented. Because I'd trained for it.
The Myth That Creates Rubble
"Pressure makes diamonds." That's only half true.
Pressure can shape you. But too much pressure, untrained, doesn't make diamonds. It makes rubble.
Growing up, I turned into rubble again and again. Missed game-winners. Disappeared in big moments. Carried pressure so heavy it started affecting training. If I missed my first shot in practice, I'd put so much pressure on the next one that it never went in. One miss became an entire session of stress.
Eventually, I started hiding in the bathroom before training—hoping I wouldn't have to go out there. Sitting on the toilet. Head down. Waiting for the feeling to pass.
I began to hate basketball.
That's how my college career ended. I broke. I dropped out and went home.
But I now knew something important: if I wanted to become the pro I dreamed of becoming, I had to learn how to deal with pressure.
Pressure vs. Stress
Pressure is unavoidable. It's what happens when something matters.
Stress is different. Stress is your body's response to perceived demand. Heart rate spikes. Breath shortens. Muscles tighten. Attention scatters. You rush. You freeze. You avoid. You overthink.
Pressure is the moment. Stress is the meaning your body assigns to the moment.
I crumbled in college. I rose at the Olympics. The difference wasn't talent. It was physiology and identity.
There are two ways to win against pressure: lower the stakes, or raise your capacity.
Lowering the Stakes
When I was younger, I wasn't chasing success. I was chasing escape.
I wanted to make the NBA because I didn't enjoy the life I was living. I believed being great at basketball was the only way to build a great life. That belief made every game feel like survival.
So I attacked the root cause of my stress. I stopped trying to build a better career first and started trying to build a better life first.
I started small—with gratitude. Every morning, I wrote ten things I was grateful for. I also noted moments where someone appreciated me. A teammate. A coach. A friend. Family.
Over time, my life became something I actually enjoyed. So when I won or lost, made shots or missed them, I was okay.
This sentence changed everything: I'll be okay no matter how this goes.
That's how the stakes soften.
Rebuilding Identity
In college, I only valued basketball skill. If you were good, I respected you. If not, I didn't. I treated myself the same way.
If I played poorly, I believed I was a failure. If I played well, I felt invincible. Highs and lows. Pressure on every possession.
So I rebuilt my identity and the things I value. I wrote down my values—traits I respected and wanted to live by: kind, hard-working, curious. Each day, I acted in alignment with those values.
Slowly, I started liking who I saw in the mirror. Not because I was good or bad at basketball, but because of who I was becoming as a man. This helped me move past bad games and performances. When I played badly, it stopped defining me. I stopped letting basketball be the judge and jury.
That alone lowered pressure more than any performance trick ever could.
Raising Your Capacity
Lowering the stakes helps. But pressure never fully disappears.
So I had to learn how to shift state when it showed up.
For the past six years, I've practiced breathwork and mindfulness every morning. That's my mindset training. Breathwork helps me relax the body when the stress kicks in. Mindfulness helps me notice the stress and put my attention on the breath. I practice this every morning in a calm environment, so when the pressure arrives in games or training, I am prepared and ready to shift my state from stress to calm and focused.
I also create small pressure drills throughout the week. Free throws with consequences. One-on-one games with punishment. These are more moments to practice my mindfulness and breathwork.
Being able to shift states is a skill that requires work and preparation.
The other way I prepare for games and raise my capacity to handle pressure is by offloading accumulated stress.
I do this with hard workouts. Sauna and ice tubs. Massage and light movement. Nature. Sleep, healthy food, hydration. Time with friends.
The lower my baseline stress, the easier it is to perform under pressure.
Building your capacity to handle pressure takes time, but with daily practice, you will become cool, calm and collected in any situation.
The Truth
Performing under pressure separates the people who achieve their dreams from the people who almost do.
But it isn't a talent. It's a skill.
Train your mind. Train your body. Prepare for pressure.
Your past doesn't define your clutch gene. How you train does.