I am, unfortunately, a lifelong fan of the New York Jets. If losing truly builds character, then I have more than any one man deserves.
Nothing better prepares you for life than rooting for a perennially losing sports team. The disappointments toughen you for whatever life has in store and remind you that tomorrow is always another day. The rare successes teach a different lesson: they don’t happen every time. Enjoy the good moments when they arrive, but stay humble—because you know how quickly things can turn.
When I was a kid, my Uncle Bobby would take me to Jets training camp at Hofstra University. After practice, the players would walk up a hill toward the locker rooms while fans lined the fence, shouting for autographs. I was about 10 or 11 years old and, like most kids, I only knew the “faces” of the franchise—quarterbacks, wide receivers, linebackers. The stars.
One practice stands out vividly. As Richard Todd, the starting quarterback at the time and a number-one draft pick out of the University of Alabama, walked by with a group of players, I yelled his name and asked for an autograph. He turned, smiled, and said he’d sign—but only if I asked Big Joe for an autograph first.
I had no idea who Big Joe was. But I wanted that signature, so I agreed.
Big Joe was Joe Fields, the team’s center—one of the most critical and least celebrated positions on the field. The center puts the ball in the quarterback’s hands on every play. He calls the blocking assignments. He has the closest working relationship with the quarterback of anyone on the offense. If that initial exchange fails, nothing else matters. No passes, no runs, no highlight reels.
Even as a kid, the moment stuck with me. Here was someone in the spotlight deliberately pulling another person forward—making sure the guy doing the dirty work, out of view and out of mind, received recognition. It reminded me of a singer pausing mid-concert to introduce the band, or a lead actor turning the applause toward the crew behind the curtain.
That lesson translates directly to leadership.
In sports, business, and life, great teams are never about one star. They are the sum of all the pieces working together. The quiet contributor who shows up early, stays late, and makes sure everyone else can succeed is often the most important person in the room—and the least acknowledged.
Real leadership isn’t about soaking up credit. It’s about shining a light on the people who make your success possible.
I encourage you to look around your organization and find your “Big Joe.” Thank them publicly. Acknowledge them privately. Make sure they know how essential they are to the team. Because when the people behind the scenes feel seen and valued, everyone wins—even lifelong Jets fans.