I Am An Athlete
The competitive mindset that is a separator in business & life
I am an athlete. Not because I can run a sub-six-minute mile or bench press 300 pounds. Not because my vertical jump is impressive or my hand-eye coordination is elite. I'm an athlete because of what sports taught me about showing up when it's hard, processing failure in real time, and competing--always.
I've gone through a few different evolutions of this athlete identity. The first came after my last high school football game: something I loved would no longer be part of my life. The next came at the end of my college baseball career. Then, after being lucky enough to parlay my passion into a career, I walked away from working in professional baseball after 15 years to figure out what was next. Each of those transitions required introspection, some internal struggle, and a recalibration on how I defined competing, success, and winning.
That's where I don't think athletes get their due. People miss the mark when they think about athletics as some physical pursuit. Sure, the physical gifts matter at the highest levels. But the mental framework? The psychological conditioning? The unrelenting grit? That's the real competitive advantage. And it translates directly to business in ways that most people never appreciate until they're sitting across the table from someone who's been there.
I've sat in enough boardrooms and negotiations to know: I can spot another athlete from a mile away. It's not in how they carry themselves physically. It's in how they process adversity. How they respond when the deal falls apart. How they handle the ego hit of losing a client or botching a pitch. Athletes have a different relationship with failure because we've been conditioned to it. We've struck out with the bases loaded. We've missed the game-winning shot. We've false started in the championship heat. And then we had to show up the next day and do it all over again.
That muscle memory of bouncing back? That's not just perseverance. It's pattern recognition. When you've failed a thousand times in competition, failure in business feels less like a death sentence and more like a Tuesday. You learn to separate outcome from effort, process from result. You know that you can execute perfectly and still lose. And you know that the only response to that is to get back in the gym, watch the film, make the adjustment, and go again.
Most people in business haven't trained for this. They've been taught to avoid failure, to optimize for safety, to hedge. Athletes are taught the opposite: to compete, to expose yourself to the possibility of loss, to put yourself in uncomfortable situations on purpose. That's not recklessness. It's preparation.
Here's some of what being an athlete has given me professionally that has nothing to do with my physical ability:
I understand scoreboard thinking. In sports, you know exactly where you stand at all times. The scoreboard doesn't lie. Business tries to obscure this with vanity metrics and moving goalposts, but athletes cut through it. We want to know: are we winning or losing? What does winning actually look like? How do we measure it? This clarity of thought is a massive advantage when everyone else is getting lost in the noise.
I can handle high-pressure moments without flinching. You know what's not that stressful? A board presentation. You know what is stressful? Standing at the free throw line with no time left and your team down by one. Every eye in the arena on you. Your entire season riding on whether this ball goes in or not. After that, the high-stakes client meeting feels like a scrimmage. Athletes have been conditioned to perform when it matters, not just when it's convenient.
I know how to be coached. This is massively underrated. Most professionals are defensive about feedback. They take it personally. Athletes are used to someone yelling at them, breaking down their mechanics, telling them everything they're doing wrong, and then expecting them to improve immediately. We've internalized that coaching isn't criticism—it's investment. The best leaders seek it out. They want someone to tell them where they're leaking value, where their form is breaking down, what they can't see in themselves.
I understand the value of preparation no one sees. Nobody watches you run sprints at six in the morning. Nobody sees the extra reps after practice. Nobody's tracking your film study on Sunday night. But you know what they do see? The result on game day. Athletes understand that excellence is built in private, long before anyone's watching. That offseason conditioning translates directly to how I approach my craft professionally. The deals I win today were built on the work I put in when nobody was paying attention.
I've learned how to compete and collaborate simultaneously. Sports teaches you this paradox: you're competing against someone while also pushing each other to be better. The best athletes understand that competition isn't about destroying your opponent—it's about both of you elevating your game. It's no fun to win easy--you want an opponent that challenges you. That translates beautifully to business, where you need to compete in the market while also building partnerships, fostering relationships, and recognizing that rising tides lift all boats.
I've made peace with the fact that talent isn't enough. There are graveyards full of athletes who were more talented than the Hall of Famers. Talent is the entry fee. It's what you do with it that matters. How hard you work, how well you respond to adversity, how you handle success, how you treat your teammates, how you prepare. Athletes learn early that the gifted don't always win. The prepared do. The relentless do. The ones who refuse to let their talent go to waste do.
When I was younger I called myself an athlete because it was part of my identity. Heck, I think it largely was my identity. A lot of my self-worth was wrapped up in it. I've matured since then, but I still take pride in the moniker. I don't do it to cling to some identity or status. I claim it because it's true. Not because of what my body can do, but because of how my mind has been shaped by competition. Being an athlete taught me to embrace discomfort, to process failure productively, to show up consistently, and to compete with everything I have when it matters most.
That's not a hobby. That's not a former life. That's a framework. And in a world where most people are avoiding hard things, seeking comfort, and optimizing for safety, having an athlete's mindset is an unfair advantage. So lean in.
You can teach someone the technical skills of any job. You can't teach someone how to respond when they're down by ten with five minutes left. You either know how to fight back, or you don't.
I do. Because I'm an athlete. And I'm pretty sure you might be, too.
Whether you spent a decade in a Major League clubhouse or got cut from your middle school JV team, the power of this☝️ mindset applies equally. Can you think of a time that you fell back into an athletic mindset when confronting something in your personal or professional life? I'd love to hear about it.
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Extra Innings
🏆 All eyes are on the MLB Postseason, and rightfully so. I posted about an unfortunate, lesser known
part of the MLB calendar that's also underway: firing season.
⚾ This may be old, dating back to last year when the A's played their final game in Oakland, but how can
you not be romantic about baseball?
👏 Tip of the cap to Brian Snitker, who stepped down as manager of the Atlanta Braves. He'll return as a
senior advisor next year, which will be his 50th (!!!) with the organization. Snit joined me on one of
my first podcasts, and if you listened to that conversation, it wasn't hard to figure out why players
hold him in such high esteem and he had such staying power. Bravo, Snit.
🐊 I'm officially a Floridian after seeing this outside my next door neighbor's house
With gratitude,
You don’t have to figure it all out alone.
Whether you’re leading a team, a business, or yourself—coaching can help you see the next move more clearly. I work with executives, emerging leaders, & teams who know there's a gap between where they are and where they need to be. People who aren't looking for quick fixes or feel-good platitudes, but real growth that shows up in results.
If you’re ready to lead with clarity, authenticity, and results that stick, let’s talk and see if we're a fit.
Until next time, keep showing up.
P.S. - Hit reply and tell me: What's the biggest leadership challenge you're facing right now? I read every response, genuinely want to know, and your answer might just inspire the next newsletter.
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