The biggest comeback in NBA history just exposed the worst habit in your golf game.

First of all, congratulations to the Knicks for becoming the 2026 NBA Champions!

Yes, it was a nail-biting 5th game to clench the title, and it was awesome no matter how you look at it. Even if you are not a huge Knicks fan.

But I want to talk about game 4 in the series. Did you happen to watch it? You are not alone if you didn’t; most people turned it off after the 2nd quarter. Why? Because the Knicks were down 29.

And all over New York and beyond, people who love that team did the exact same thing… they turned the TV off. Too close. Too painful. So they walked away.

Do you remember what happened? Knicks came back and won — the largest comeback in NBA Finals history. One of the great nights the sport has ever produced. And a whole lot of people who love that team missed it. Live, anyway. They watched it later, after the fact, once they already knew how it ended. That’s a Safe way to protect your heart.

Here’s the problem with that. Life doesn’t come with a replay button. The moment shows up once, in real time, and then it’s gone for good. You’re either in the room for it — or you’re watching the highlights of a thing you were too anxious to live through.

I want to sit with that fan for a second, because that fan is us. I just saw this in a social media post from Petra Kolber, an internationally renowned fitness authority, movement motivator, and positive psychology coach… who’s also a die-hard Knicks fan.

I Couldn’t Tolerate The Knicks.
I Had To Turn Off The TV
The Knicks were down 29 points. I couldn’t take it.
They came back and won. The largest comeback in NBA Finals history.
And I missed it because I was too anxious to watch.
I watched the replay. Saw every shot. Every comeback moment.
But that’s not how it works in real life. Real life doesn’t have a replay button. The moment happens. Then it’s gone.
After I turned it off, I asked: What is wrong with me? Why can’t I watch a game I actually want to see?
The answer?
You haven’t built up the tolerance. You don’t watch enough games to get comfortable with the discomfort.

Psychologists have a name for what’s happening when you flip off the TV: avoidance. And avoidance is sneaky, because it works — in the short term. The second you look away, the discomfort drops. Instant relief.

But here’s what the research on anxiety shows over and over: every time you escape the hard feeling, you quietly teach your brain that the hard feeling was too big to survive. Avoidance doesn’t shrink the discomfort. It feeds it. The only thing that actually builds tolerance is staying — staying in the room while it’s still ugly.

They call it habituation, and it only works if you don’t leave.

After that comeback, the first thing Karl-Anthony Towns (Center and Power Forward for New York Knicks) did was thank the fans — not the ones screaming at the buzzer, but the ones who stuck with the team through an ugly, ugly first half and stayed in their seats when leaving would’ve been easier. And on championship night, talking about his own beaten-up road to a title, he said he kept putting one foot in front of the other even when he was, his word, in the mud. That’s the whole thing right there. Staying in the mud is the price of admission. You don’t get to throw the party for a win you ducked out on.

Now, let’s talk golf, because golfers turn off the TV all the time. We just do it to ourselves. You make a double on seven, and somewhere on the walk to eight, quietly, you check out. You concede the round in your head. You’re still swinging, still keeping score — but emotionally, you’ve left the building. You’re already in the parking lot, already telling your buddies the story of the bad round. You stopped being in the room.

And that’s the round you learn nothing from. That’s the round that makes you more fragile, not less — because you just taught yourself, one more time, that when it gets uncomfortable, you leave.

So here’s the work. Next time it goes sideways — the blow-up hole, the lost ball, the three-putt that tilts you — don’t turn off the TV. Stay in the mud. Finish the hole like it matters. Stay present for the exact stretch you’d give anything to fast-forward. You’re not doing it for the score that day. You’re doing it to build the one thing no swing tip can give you: the tolerance to still be standing there, clear-headed, when the round finally turns. Because rounds turn. But only for the people still in the room.

So here’s your one thing today. Next time it gets hard enough that you want to check out — don’t. Stay in the mud one minute longer than feels comfortable. That minute is where the tolerance gets built. And tolerance is where comebacks get made.