From -3 to a +9 Finish. Analyzing My Own Round

Dear High Performers,

I'm going to tell you about the worst back nine I've played in months. Not because I'm looking for sympathy or because misery loves company, but because this round taught me more about my mental game than my last five good rounds combined.

Last week I was three under through 10 holes. Three under. I was playing the best golf of my life. My putting was unconscious. I was hitting greens. Everything felt dialed in. I was in that flow state we all chase where golf feels easy and every shot goes exactly where you're looking.

Then I finished nine over par. You read that right. I went from three under through 10 to nine over for the round. That's a 12 stroke collapse over eight holes. I didn't get injured. I didn't lose my golf ball in my bag. I just completely fell apart mentally and watched it happen in real time.

This newsletter isn't about what went wrong (though we'll get to that). It's about what I'm doing about it. Because the difference between golfers who improve and golfers who stay stuck isn't whether they have disasters. It's whether they learn from them systematically or just move on hoping it doesn't happen again.

Let me set the scene. I'm playing well from the first tee. Not trying hard, not forcing anything, just executing my routine and trusting my swing. My putting is ridiculous. I'm reading greens like I can see the future. Making 15-footers. Draining 20-footers. Converting every birdie opportunity I create.

By the time I'm standing on the 11th tee at three under, I'm feeling something I rarely feel on a golf course: genuine confidence that I'm going to keep making birdies. Not hope. Not optimism. Confidence.

And that's when the mental shift started, so subtle I didn't notice it happening.

I started thinking about my score. Not obsessively, just... aware of it. Three under through 10. If I can just play the back nine at even par, I'll shoot one of my best rounds ever. Four over is still really good. Even five or six over would be a great round.

See what just happened? I went from playing golf to playing not-to-lose golf. I stopped focusing on my process and started managing expectations about my score. My attention shifted from "execute this shot" to "don't mess this up."

And golf, being the psychological torture device that it is, immediately punished me for this shift.

Hole 11: This is where everything changed. I made a double bogey. Not a disaster hole by normal standards, but in the context of being three under, it felt catastrophic. And here's the crucial part: I kept my composure. I stayed calm. I didn't throw clubs or spiral emotionally.

But something subtle shifted that was actually worse than losing my temper.

I went from attacking the golf course to just trying to survive it.

On the front nine, I was aggressive. I was going at pins. I was playing to make birdies. I was attacking. After that double on 11, I shifted into protection mode. I started playing to not make more mistakes instead of playing to make good scores. I was aiming for the middle of greens instead of pins. I was hitting safe clubs instead of committed clubs.

I looked calm on the outside. My playing partners probably didn't notice any change. But internally, I'd completely shifted from offense to defense. From hunter to hunted, if you remember that concept from a few editions back.

And here's what's insidious about this: it feels like the smart play. "Just make pars, protect what you have, don't take unnecessary risks." Except that's not actually how you play good golf. You play good golf by staying committed and aggressive, by trusting your process regardless of what just happened.

The rest of the back nine became an exercise in survival golf. I wasn't executing my pre-shot routine consistently. My breathing was shallow. My grip pressure was way too high. I was playing reactive golf, just trying to get through the round without it getting worse.

It got worse.

The most frustrating part? I was aware it was happening. I could feel myself losing my process. I could feel the tension creeping in. But I couldn't stop it in the moment. The awareness wasn't enough to interrupt the spiral.

Here's something specific that's incredibly revealing: my putting on the front nine was the best it's ever been. Confident reads. Smooth stroke. Making everything inside 15 feet. On the back nine, some of the worst putting I've done in months. Same greens, same putter, completely different execution.

The difference wasn't technical. The difference was that on the front nine, I was executing my routine. I was taking my time. I was committing to my reads. Most importantly, I was breathing. I have a specific breathing pattern I use before every putt, and on the front nine I did it religiously.

On the back nine? I started skipping it. Not consciously, but when I reviewed my round later, I realized I'd stopped doing my full routine. I was rushing because I was anxious about protecting my score. The breathing went away. The confidence went away. The makes stopped happening.

This is the power of process versus outcome focus. When I focused on my process (breathing, routine, commitment), I putted brilliantly. When I focused on outcomes (score, results, not screwing up), I putted terribly. Same player, same greens, different focus, completely different performance.

After this round, I did something I needs to become religion, I sat down and actually wrote out what happened. Not just "I played bad on the back nine," but specific analysis of where my mental game fell apart.

Here's what I wrote:

What went wrong:

What this tells me:

What I'm going to do about it: This is the important part. Not just noticing what went wrong, but having a specific plan to address it.

Here's what I'm implementing based on this disaster:

1. Practice chipping under pressure with a specific standard

I'm setting up a chipping practice station and tracking how many chips I get within tap-in range (let's say 3 feet). Not just mindlessly hitting chips, but creating pressure by setting standards and tracking results.

Why? Because on the back nine, my short game fell apart under pressure. I need to train my brain that I can execute chips when it matters, not just on the practice green when nothing is on the line.

I'm going to track this weekly. How many out of 20 chips finish within 3 feet? That's my measurable standard. When I can consistently hit 12-15 out of 20 in practice, I'll have more confidence that I can execute under pressure on the course.

This includes executing chips out of every part of my 3 Release System.

2. Build breathing into my routine religiously

I'm making my breathing pattern non-negotiable. Before every putt, doesn't matter if it's a 2-footer or a 20-footer, I'm doing my breathing sequence. I'm treating it like my grip or my stance, not as something optional I do when I remember.

The front nine proved this works. I did it consistently and putted the best I've ever putted. The back nine proved what happens when I skip it. The data is clear. Now I need to make it automatic.

3. Play from red tees to make low scores familiar

This is the big one. I need to train my brain what it feels like to be three under, four under, even five under. Right now, being three under is so unfamiliar that my brain treats it as a threat. "This isn't normal, something must be wrong, protect yourself."

So I'm going to play full rounds from forward tees where I should be able to get to that score more regularly. Not to pad my ego with good scores, but to make my brain comfortable in that mental state. To practice maintaining my process when I'm playing well instead of falling apart when I get to unfamiliar territory.

When being three under feels normal instead of exceptional, my brain won't freak out and try to protect me from it.

Here's what separates golfers who improve from golfers who plateau: systematic reflection after performances, especially bad ones.

I teach these concepts to golfers and executives every day. I know the science. I understand the psychology. And yet I still fell into the exact trap I warn people about. I went from process focus to outcome focus. I shifted from attacking to surviving. I abandoned my breathing routine under pressure.

Knowing the concepts doesn't make you immune to the problems. But it does give you the framework to recognize what happened and create a plan to address it. That's the difference.

Most golfers have a disaster round and just want to forget about it. Move on. Hope it doesn't happen again. Maybe they complain to their buddies about how they "lost it on the back nine," but they don't actually analyze what happened or make a plan to prevent it.

This is why they keep having the same disasters over and over. They're not learning from them because they're not extracting the lessons.

My advice? Do an analysis this in-depth after your rounds. It truly helps. Not every round needs this level of scrutiny, but the rounds where you collapse, where you play way below your capability, where something goes significantly wrong? Those deserve 20-30 minutes of honest reflection and specific planning.

Dr. Anders Ericsson's research on deliberate practice shows that the best performers in any field don't just practice more. They practice more effectively by systematically analyzing their performances, identifying specific weaknesses, and creating focused practice to address those weaknesses.

A disaster round is incredibly valuable if you actually learn from it. It shows you exactly where your mental game breaks down. It reveals the gaps between your best performance and your worst performance. It tells you what to work on.

But only if you actually do the work of reflection and create a specific plan for improvement.

This same pattern shows up in business constantly. You're executing well, things are going great, you start thinking about the outcome (the deal closing, the launch succeeding, the promotion coming through), and suddenly you're playing not-to-lose instead of playing to win.

Your presentations get tentative. Your decisions get conservative. You start protecting what you have instead of aggressively pursuing what you want. And just like in golf, this shift from process to outcome focus makes you perform worse.

The executives who perform most consistently are the ones who maintain their process regardless of results. When things are going well, they stay focused on execution. When things are going poorly, they stay focused on execution. The score is information, but it's not what drives their decisions.

The most frustrating part of this collapse was that I was aware it was happening. I could feel myself getting out of my process. I could feel the tension. I knew I was focusing on score instead of execution.

But awareness in the moment wasn't enough to stop it. I knew what was happening and I still couldn't interrupt it.

This taught me something important: you can't rely on in-the-moment awareness to save you when you're spiraling. You need systems that prevent the spiral from starting in the first place.

That's why my improvement plan isn't "try to stay in my process better." It's specific, measurable actions I'm taking in practice to build the skills and familiarity I need so that future rounds don't trigger the same collapse.

You can't think your way out of performance anxiety. You have to train your way out of it by making uncomfortable situations familiar through systematic practice.

When you have a disaster round or a disaster presentation or a disaster day, here's what you do:

Write down what happened specifically Not "I played bad" but "I started focusing on score on hole 10, stopped breathing before putts, grip pressure increased, routine got rushed."

Identify the pattern What triggered the collapse? For me, it was getting to an unfamiliar score and shifting to outcome focus.

Make a specific improvement plan Not "try harder" but "practice chipping with pressure standards, build breathing into routine non-negotiably, play from forward tees to make low scores familiar."

Implement and track Actually do the work. Track whether you're doing it. Measure whether it's working.

This process takes maybe 20 minutes after a round or performance. But it's the difference between repeating your mistakes forever and actually learning from them.

I'm sharing my disaster not because I'm proud of it, but because the willingness to look honestly at where you fall apart is what separates people who improve from people who stay stuck.

I'll let you know in a few months whether my improvement plan works. But I already know it's better than just hoping the collapse doesn't happen again.

Had a disaster you actually learned from? Reply and tell me about it. I'd love to hear what you discovered about your own performance.

The Cog is where golfers come to upgrade their mental game. Every Tuesday and Friday!