Empower Your Audience

When most people see the Savannah Bananas play on the field, they notice the bright yellow tuxedo, the elaborate stunts, and the frenzied crowds during the game. 

But if you look closer, you can see one of the greatest lessons in business playing out, too. 

Four years ago, I received a text from the Bananas founder Jesse Cole asking if I wanted to be part of the fun show. Jesse asked if I wanted to throw out the first pitch before a game. 

At the time, the Bananas were playing in a small 5,000-person stadium in Savannah, Georgia and while I wanted to throw the pitch, it just never worked out with our schedules. 

Until this past Saturday night. 

They may have taken different paths to get there, but the result is the same—a gold medal win and a star goalie who’ll never have to a buy a drink in his hometown again. 

In 1980, the U.S. Men’s Hockey team produced the miracle on ice. That’s when a collection of college kids went up against a Soviet powerhouse and beat them on their way to winning gold. 

In the years since, though, no American men’s hockey team has been able to win Olympic gold. 

Until now. 

When the scores came in, I was shocked. 

Like everyone else watching the event, I believed the American figure skating team of Madison Chock and Evan Bates had done all they needed to secure gold on February 11. 

When it comes to finding success in today’s competitive, fast-paced world, going the extra mile is paramount. But knowing that doesn’t always lead to behaving that way, does it? 

Sometimes the opposite path—taking the easy route—seems more attractive. 

Not for legendary American skier Lindsey Vonn. For the 41-year-old gold medal winning racer, any opportunity is the only opportunity. Even when it means racing on a torn ACL. 

Vonn, who was set to appear in her final Winter Olympics this week in Italy, injured herself in a race in the Swiss Alps a week ago. She had to be airlifted out and the diagnosis led many to believe she would miss her final Olympic Games. 

That’s when Vonn set the record straight. 

“As long as there’s a chance, I’ll try,” she said. 

Vonn, wearing a knee brace, competed over the weekend at the Olympics as only she can: full steam ahead. 

In her first competitive downhill event since the torn ACL, Vonn pushed down the snowy mountains of Cortina, Italy, on her skis one final time. 

The result, unfortunately, was not a gold medal but a bad fall 13 seconds into the race that left her with a fractured leg and other injuries. Again, she was airlifted to a hospital. Some criticized her for even trying. Others blamed Team USA for even allowing her to suit up. 

Vonn, though, reacted as a world class competitor should: She declared the decision to try what others believed unthinkable was hers and hers alone. And even as she prepared for multiple surgeries to repair her leg, she declared no regrets.

Gruesome as it might be, Vonn’s story pushes us to ask if we are approaching our own lives with the same tenacity? As tall as the odds might be, as difficult as the task may look, do we push ourselves forward as if today could be our last shot at success? 

Of course, that choice is not without its challenges. 

But it’s also not without its lessons. 

Despite everything, from bruises to broken bones, Vonn remains grateful for her chance. She tried, she dreamt, she jumped, she said. No regrets. 

In her first post on social media after the accident, she wrote a response to a journalist Monday morning. 

Her message? 

A simple thank you.

Every Monday morning, sports fans across the country always seem “to know what went wrong” on Sunday. As the saying goes, Hindsight is 20/20. But the biggest of victories don’t come from looking backwards—they come from looking ahead. 

Just ask Seattle Seahawks GM John Schneider. 

For those playing in Sunday’s Super Bowl, the game represents the opportunity of a lifetime, the chance to take home the ultimate prize. But for some, it can also be a hurdle too tall to climb. For this year’s participants, the question remains: How can you be at your best when it matters most? 

It’s not easy. Already headlines are coming out that could distract a locker room. A week before the big game, news dropped that Seattle’s coveted offensive coordinator Klint Kubiak is set to take the open head coaching position with the Las Vegas Raiders (a team that just recently fired another former Seattle coach).

Sam Darnold was seeing ghosts. 

In a 33-0 loss against the New England Patriots during his second season in the NFL, the former third overall pick in 2018 was heard by an ESPN microphone saying, “I’m seeing ghosts.” In that game, Darnold threw for a miserable 86 yards and four interceptions. 

For the QB, the quote became the defining moment of his career, one that was rapidly spinning downward.  By his sixth year in the NFL, the former USC standout was on his way out. The name Darnold had become synonymous with bust. He fizzled with the Jets. Then in Carolina for two years, he did little to improve his reputation. 

In this year’s NFL playoffs, there have been significantly more 4^th quarter lead changes than in any playoffs in league history. And there are still three games to go!

But as exciting as the games have been—and Saturday’s Broncos-Bills OT thriller was no exception—the best lesson in leadership came from Denver Coach Sean Payton after Saturday’s final whistle. 

In case anyone forgot, the College Football National Championship is won on the field.  

That might be the most obvious sentence ever written, but at the same time it seems that more and more fans and pundits believe the sport’s biggest trophy is won on National Signing Day, not during the title game.  

When it comes to your impact as a leader, the number of branches on your “tree” matters.  

Here’s what I mean: Think about Nick Saban. Widely regarded as one of the greatest college football coaches ever, the former Alabama signal caller’s most significant impact on the game today may not be the seven championships he won over the years. 

Instead, it might just be his extensive coaching tree.