Friendly reminder: the hard stuff and the good stuff are usually the same stuff.
The things we value most – our marriages, our kids, meaningful work – demand the most from us.

So stop wishing this was easier.
Stop hoping the conflict, the uncertainty, or your own doubt will vanish.
This is the good stuff.

Think about every story you love. Every myth, every book, every series. They’re great because the hero had the odds stacked against them. Because there was no way through… until there was.

So...

If you asked me how I'm feeling and I said, “Stressed,” you’d probably be concerned.

Most of us would.
Because we’ve been told STRESS is bad. Toxic.

But is it?

In my view, COMFORT, not stress, is the real villain.

I went for a run this morning, and it stressed my body.
I’m taking a marketing course, and it’s stressing my self-perceptions.
I started a business last year, and it put stress on my finances.

All good, necessary things. And yes, the stress in each has helped me.

Why? Because stress is what gro...

Most of the coaches I work with are in the thick of fall camp.
Long days. Tired voices. And a repetition that feels like Groundhog Day.

One message I keep offering as a warning (an invitation?):

"Remember, you're not just leading people.
You're leading the STORIES you've been telling yourself about those people."

The guy who "can't make a block in space."
The position group that "doesn't have many leaders."
The other coach who's "just an *@sshole."

Once that story forms, you often only see what you expe...

The most deceptive desire is the desire to be desired.*

It’s a trap. 

You get hooked on their approval, their likes, their head nods. You start checking the metrics more than your own internal compass.

But you didn’t start this for them.

That vision that got you moving? It wasn’t focus-grouped.
It was yours.

So why are you handing them the keys now?

The people who matter don’t shift. The ones who are shifting? They were never your people anyway.

Here’s your choice: You can optimize for the...

It’s simpler to say what you’re against.
(And the quickest way to form a group.)

It’s harder to name what you’re for.
To consider that which you’re against.

 --

But, we’re wired for contrast. Aren't we?
Hot or cold. Light or dark. This or that.

That’s how I taught my kids.
This is this because it’s not that.
But eventually, it stops working.

Hot isn’t bad. Cold isn’t either.
And darkness? It has things to teach.

I often go back to this Kierkegaard line in my head:

“You label me, so you can...

When I was younger, I wanted to change the world.
When I was younger, I didn't really understand change.

It turns out that when most of us talk about "change," what we really mean is:

I want the outcome.
The impact. The transformation. The better future.

But here's what I've learned: nearly all resistance–from ourselves and especially from those we lead–comes when we ask people to change.

The word itself triggers defensiveness.
It implies something's wrong with how things are now.
It suggests loss, unce...

You'd be amazed how many emotionally immature coaches there are in sports.
(Or maybe you wouldn't.)

Half the work of working with young pros is helping them realize: It's not personal.

The psychological games? The mixed messages?
That's not about the athlete's skill or future.
It's about the coach's own insecurity.

That's when we talk about standards–and thermostats.

When everything around you feels unstable or reactive, you need something stable and chosen.

A standard is a promise you make to yoursel...

If you’ve ever wondered what it’s like standing on the sideline
of a big-time college football game, I’ll tell you:

It’s mostly an exercise in watching grown men wrestle with reality.
And they tend to fall into one of two camps.

In one camp:
The coach who’s constantly unraveling.
Anger. Profanity.
Yelling at the play, the athlete–reality itself.
Nearly all his energy is spent resisting what’s happening.
And honestly?
No one’s better for it.

In the other camp:
It’s like watching a seasoned sai...

I had coffee with my younger self this week.

He ordered a vanilla latte.
I ordered a coffee with light cream.

I asked him how things were going.
He lied and said everything was good.
Said he liked the work he was doing.
Said he could see himself doing it forever.

I told him a time would come soon,
When he’d be really honest with himself.
When he'd feel it: this season is over.
He’ll be scared to admit it. But he’ll know.

He asked, But what will I do?
How will any of this translate to something else?...

A few years ago, I worked with a football coach who did this brilliant thing.

His position group had 14 guys. Only 4 starting spots.
One week before the first game, he began a ritual.

One by one, he called guys up to the whiteboard and asked each to write their starting four—from their point of view.

Then he’d ask the room: “Anyone want to make a change?”

Once there was consensus, he’d write his own starting four.
Sometimes it matched. Sometimes it didn’t.
And they did this every single week for the ...

Many cultures, across history, had rites of passage.
Not for ceremony.
For identity.

A moment that marked the shift from one life stage to another.
Child to adult. Outsider to insider. Observer to leader.

But today?
Most of us skip the ritual.
Even so—we still feel the shift.

A rookie walks into the locker room for the first time.
An entrepreneur signs the lease.
A new executive realizes everyone’s waiting for her call.

These are modern rites.
Unspoken. Unsanctioned.
But identity-altering.

The best ...

One of the most powerful conversations I’ve had was with a head coach a few days after an awful season.

He didn’t just lose games—he lost the fans.
The media piled on.
The stress around the program was palpable.

I remember walking into his office. We sat down.
Pleasantries, sure. But we both knew why I was there.
Not to talk about next steps.
Not off-season plans.

We talked about grief.

And let me tell you—grief is NOT a topic that comes up very often in head coach or senior leader offices.

I told him the...

Courage isn’t the absence of fear.
It’s the presence of vision.

This is one of my favorite cognitive reframes. I come back to it often—especially with clients who feel overwhelmed.

Because sometimes they’re buried in doubt.
The challenge feels too big.
The odds too narrow.
The leader above them seems impossible.
The NIL landscape is chaotic.
The timing, the market, the pressure—none of it ideal.

When these stories come up, I let them finish. I don’t rush to solve or redirect. I just listen.

We salute you.

You’re not crazy.
You’re not lost.
You’re just ahead.

You’re writing before the deal.
Training before the call.
Working while nobody’s watching.

People might not get it.
Not yet.
Too early. Too bold. Too much.

But that’s exactly why it matters.

You didn’t wait to be picked.
You chose yourself.
You don’t need a green light.
You’re already moving.

You’ve got vision with calluses.
Belief with receipts.
Ideas backed by motion.

The absolute moxie—
we salute you.

It’s lonely som...

Casting the vision is the easy part.
Big words. Bold dreams. Applause.

But then comes Tuesday.
Then comes complexity.
Then come the good ideas.

Not the bad ones—those are easy to spot.
Easy to decline.

The real test is this:

Can you say no to something smart?
Something profitable? Something popular?

Can you look someone important in the eye—and turn down an opportunity that would look great on paper but pull you off course?

You see—vision doesn’t vanish.
It drifts.

One well-meaning yes at ...

I’ve given away hundreds of dominoes over the years.
Lately, I’ve been carrying one around in my pocket.

Why?

Because every domino is a promise.
Not of strength. Of possibility.

An upright domino stores potential energy—quiet, invisible, waiting.
And if it stays upright, all that energy stays locked inside.
But tip it over, and the story begins.

Here’s the physics most people miss:
A falling domino can topple something 1.5 times its size.

The first one knocks over something the size of a dec...

The best athletes I’ve worked with all have one thing in common:

They believed before anyone else did.

That belief converted directly into action.
Not performance—preparation.

Extra work no one assigned.
Pilates. Recovery routines.
Massages. Mental reps.
Road habits. Food discipline.
Books. Self-talk. Silence.

What’s remarkable isn’t the work itself—it’s this:

No one asked them to do it.

They didn’t wait for coaching approval.
They didn’t seek team validation.

They carried an unshakable b...

The fastest way to feel smart is to decide who’s not.
Label. Dismiss. Move on.

He’s lazy.
She’s entitled.
They’re arrogant.
Karen.
Woke.
MAGA.
Liberal.
Uneducated.
Out of touch.

Sorted. Boxed. Gone.

Why do we do this?

Kierkegaard said, “You label me so you can negate me.”

Also…It saves us time. Nuance takes effort. Curiosity requires humility.

The fallacy in it all?

What we label, we stop learning from.
What we dismiss, we can’t understand.
What we reduce, we never fully see.

If your job is to grow—y...

 Limits feel real—right up until someone proves they aren’t.

Take the four-minute mile.

For decades, it was considered impossible.
Physiologically unsafe.
A boundary too bold for the human body.

Experts said the human heart and lungs couldn’t sustain the effort needed for that speed.
They said the strain on muscles and joints could lead to breakdown or injury.
That it was at the very edge of human capability—if not beyond it.

But Roger Bannister didn’t buy it.

Bannister wasn’t paid.
He trained d...

The most powerful voice in your life is the one in your head.

It shapes how you show up—or don’t.
It critiques. It hesitates. It keeps you small.

And it sounds convincing—because it’s well-rehearsed.

But that voice can be replaced.

Not with hype. Not with noise.
With something stronger.

Credible self-talk is a trained voice you trust under pressure.

Here’s how to build it...

1. Find a Reason

A voice without purpose is easy to knock off course.
But when you know what matters and where ...

Fear isn’t the problem.

It’s the moment after.

The hesitation. The second-guessing. The debate in your head.

You see the flaw in the plan but stay quiet—what if you're wrong? The final shot is yours, but you freeze—what if you miss? The idea sits in your head, full of promise, but you stall—what if they don’t like it?

Fear is universal. We all feel it. But what happens next? That’s the difference.

That split second—where you either step forward or step back. Where you take the leap or let f...

Leadership loves engagement. Up to a point.

They’ll hold town halls, send surveys, build “open-door” cultures. They’ll tell you they value your input. But only within the lines. Within the system. Within the plan.

Because engagement—real engagement—is dangerous. It leads to ideas. And ideas, by definition, challenge the status quo.

And that’s a problem.

Not for you. But for them.

See, leadership's job isn’t to create a better future. It’s to protect the systems they’ve already built. To mai...

Culture isn’t a vibe. It’s not a feeling. It’s not a general sense of “we like it here.”

That’s fine if all you want is a pleasant place to work. A team that gets along.

But if you’re building something that matters—something that lasts—culture isn’t about harmony. It’s about clarity.

The best cultures aren’t the ones where everyone agrees all the time. They’re the ones where everyone knows where they stand.

What’s expected. What matters. Where the lines are.

Clarity beats harmony. Because ...

Culture was never a slogan.

It’s not a mission statement or a set of values listed on a website. It’s not what gets talked about in pregame speeches or hung on the walls of the locker room.

Culture is what actually happens.

It’s the stories that get celebrated. The behaviors that get praised. The standards that get upheld—not because a coach enforces them, but because the team owns them.

Culture is the shared understanding of “this is how we do it here.”

And here’s the thing—this kind of cu...