This week's idea
From Ricky Bobby (Talladega Nights):
"Second place is just the first loser."
I laughed when I first heard this line.
Then I lived it, and then for a while, I believed it.
Useful takeaways
The voice that says “not good enough” doesn’t disappear. You just choose whether to listen.
How you react to not getting what you want defines you more than getting it ever could.
Sometimes rejection is redirection to something that actually matters.
Where people get this wrong
Most people think resilience means not feeling the hurt. So they try to rationalise rejection away immediately with throwaway lines like:
“It wasn’t meant to be”
“Everything happens for a reason”
“It’s fine, I didn’t want it anyway.”
That’s not the lesson.
The lesson to be learnt less about skipping over the feeling and more about choosing what you do with it.
There’s a difference between “this didn’t happen and that’s fine” and “this didn’t happen and I get to decide what’s next.”
Resilience is feeling the sting and moving forward anyway.
How I’ve applied it
Now when something doesn't work out, I sit with it for a bit and then I ask:
"Is this actually a loss, or is it just not the thing I thought I wanted?"
Sometimes the answer is "it's a loss and it sucks." But even then, I get to choose what happens next.
The shift from "this happened to me" to "what am I going to do about it" has changed how I handle rejection, setbacks, and the inevitable bruises that come with putting yourself out there.
Storytime
A few years ago, I applied for the Mumbrella's "Under 30 Achiever of the Year Award".
I put everything into that application. Weekends refining every word. Bouncing drafts off people I trusted. It was my last year of eligibility, so I gave it everything.
I'm dyslexic and I've always had a chip on my shoulder about not being good enough. This felt like a chance to prove the naysayers wrong and undo years of not making the cut.
When the virtual awards show happened (it was COVID times), they announced I’d been “highly commended.”
Not a winner. Highly commended.
To most people, that’s a good result. To me, it felt like a participation certificate.
I was the first to lose.
The voice in my head was loud:
“All that extra work and you still couldn’t beat them.”
I was pissed off for about a day. Absolutely livid, in fact.
Meanwhile, colleagues were showering me in congrats and friends were cheering me on.
Then one of my best mates noticed I wasn't happy and said something unknowingly profound:
“I don’t think you’ve realised just how far you’ve come. Think of all the other people you’ve beaten just to get there. That's a feat in of itself, mate.”
He was right. I just wasn't ready to hear it yet.
So I rolled up my sleeves and went for the biggest prize I could think of - The Marketing Academy
Six months later, I got in, aged 31. CMOs don't even get into that programme.
The following year became one of the most rewarding chapters of my career. Awards that actually mattered. A promotion. Industry recognition. Most importantly, I proved to myself that I was good enough.
Looking back, not Under 30 Achiever Award was the best thing that could have happened.
It forced me to ask:
What am I actually chasing? (And why?)
Turns out, I didn’t want recognition for being under 30. I wanted to prove I belonged.
And I did. Just not in the way I expected.
As much as a I love Ricky Bobby, he was wrong. Second place isn’t the first loser.
Sometimes it's the thing that pushes you to the next level, without you even realising it.
Thanks for reading, and see you next week!
Murph