Insights
The gap between good and great, sitting there, permanently uncollected.
Leo Judkins, Founder, The iGaming Leader · September 2026
Good decisions and bad decisions don’t sit at opposite ends of the same scale. That’s the mistake most people make when they think about this.
A bad decision doesn’t just cost you what it cost you. It costs you the time to notice it’s wrong, the time to unwind it, the time to rebuild whatever it damaged, and every single thing you didn’t do instead, because you were busy fixing something that should never have happened. That’s not a cost. That’s a compounding one. The gap between a decision that goes wrong and a decision that goes right isn’t linear. It’s exponential, because the bad one keeps taking from you long after the moment you made it.
And here’s the part almost nobody accounts for: there’s a second gap most people never even see. It’s not just good decisions versus bad decisions. It’s good decisions versus great ones.
You can make a good decision on your own. Most senior executives can. You’ve got the experience, the instinct, the pattern recognition built over fifteen, twenty years in this industry. Good decisions are within reach alone.
Great decisions are different. Great decisions get made when you put a choice in front of people who have no agenda, who can see it from outside your head, who’ve made a decision like it before and can walk you through exactly what happened when they got it wrong. That’s not something you can replicate by thinking harder on your own. It requires someone else in the room.
The gap between a good decision and a great one is where the real opportunity cost sits. Not in the disasters. In all the decisions that were fine, that nobody would ever call a mistake, that could have been better if someone had been there to ask the one question you hadn’t thought to ask yourself.
This is the part that’s hardest to accept, because it doesn’t feel like a gap from the inside.
You’ve had the experience. Someone asks a question, or points something out, and you think, I never even considered that. It happens to everyone. It’s not a failure of intelligence or effort. It’s just how blind spots work. By definition, you cannot see your own.
Which means the blind spot stays exactly where it is, invisible to you, until someone else is close enough to your thinking, and trusted enough by you, to actually say something. Without that person, the blind spot doesn’t get smaller over time. It just sits there, quietly shaping decisions you don’t even realise are being shaped by it.
I see this in myself constantly, and I’ll be honest about it rather than pretend it’s only something that happens to other people.
When I notice myself getting excited about a new tool, a new system, a new shiny thing to build or evaluate, that excitement is usually a signal, and not the one it feels like in the moment. It’s not usually "this is the thing that will move the business forward." More often, it’s a sign that I’m avoiding something else. Something boring. Something hard. Something tedious that actually needed doing, that I didn’t want to sit down and do.
I built a business around helping other people get outside perspective on exactly this kind of thing, and I still catch myself doing it. That’s not a contradiction. It’s proof of the point. Nobody, at any level, is exempt from their own blind spots. The only real difference is whether you’ve got someone close enough to your thinking to catch it and call it out before it costs you months.
Multiply this across a year, or a career, and the numbers stop being abstract.
Every month a restructure sits undecided because you’re 80% sure instead of certain is a month of the old, broken structure still running. Every quarter spent chasing the interesting distraction instead of the tedious priority is a quarter the actual priority didn’t move. Every blind spot that never gets named is a decision quietly being made worse by something you can’t see, indefinitely, because nobody’s told you it’s there.
None of that shows up as a single, dramatic loss on a balance sheet. It shows up as a business that’s a full notch below what it could have been, for years, without anyone ever being able to point to the exact moment it happened. That’s what makes it dangerous. It’s not the mistake you can see. It’s the gap between good and great, sitting there, permanently uncollected.
This is exactly why the room matters, not the advice in it, the room itself. People with no agenda, who’ve made these calls before, who can ask the one question you didn’t think to ask, and who are close enough to your thinking to catch the blind spot before it costs you a year instead of a conversation.
See how the Inner Circles workQuestions this usually raises
A colleague inside your business usually has a stake in the outcome, or reasons not to challenge you directly. A peer with no agenda and nothing to gain or lose from your decision can say the harder thing without it costing them anything.
The dramatic ones are. The expensive ones usually aren’t, they’re the good decisions that could have been great ones, and the blind spots that quietly shape outcomes for months before anyone notices.
Experience helps you make good decisions faster. It doesn’t help you see your own blind spots, because by definition you can’t see them from inside your own thinking. That requires someone else.
The ones you’re 80% sure about but not 100%, and the ones where you notice yourself getting drawn towards something exciting and new instead of something necessary and hard.
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