I set a goal for myself this week, and I failed; my best wasn’t good enough.
And that’s exactly why I needed it.
During the FIBA break, we had two weeks off games, and I told myself I’d write the foundation piece for Monday’s With McVeigh — the article that would become the first episode of my podcast.
So I wrote every day.
And every day… it wasn’t good.
By Sunday night, I read what I thought was my strongest version.
It sucked.
I was paralysed with frustration and self-doubt.
Monday came, and no email went out.
And for a moment, that familiar voice showed up:
Maybe I’m not built for this.
The Old Story
Growing up, I believed failure meant you weren’t enough.
If you didn’t perform, it was because something was wrong with you.
When I missed shots in college…
When I sat on the bench to start my pro career…
I believed I was a failure.
My entire identity was tied to outcomes.
Success meant I was worthy.
Failure meant I wasn’t.
That mindset created extreme highs, deeper lows, burnout, anxiety, and a constant need to prove myself.
I lived in fear of not being good enough — because I thought failing proved it.
The New Lesson
Basketball has taught me something I wish I had learned sooner:
Sometimes your best isn’t supposed to be enough.
Not to break you —
to reveal the gap between who you are and who you’re becoming.
Your struggle isn’t evidence that you’re unworthy.
It’s evidence you’re living on your edge.
Every time something doesn’t work,
every time you fall short,
every time your best isn’t enough —
the world is handing you a map.
It’s showing you exactly what to train next.
This week, my writing wasn’t good enough.
And that’s the point.
It showed me the craft I need to develop, the reps I haven’t done yet, and the discomfort I’m supposed to lean into.
Failure didn’t expose my limit —
it exposed my path.
“The impediment to action advances action. What stands in the way becomes the way.”