#1 ·
I was watching some old game highlights last night, and it got me thinking about how much our entire perception of success is skewed toward the flashy stuff. We live in a culture that is absolutely obsessed with the "hero" narrative. If a quarterback throws a 60-yard touchdown or a striker pulls off a bicycle kick, we lose our minds. We analyze the footwork, the velocity, the sheer audacity of the move. We build statues for them. But the more I watch sports—and honestly, the more I watch people in general—the more I realize that the actual foundation of any successful operation is usually something much more invisible and, frankly, much more boring.
Think about any great team, whether it's in professional sports, a high-stakes tech startup, or even just a tight-knit group of friends. There’s always that one person who isn't there to grab the headlines. They aren't the ones being interviewed on ESPN or featured in the glossy magazine covers. They are the ones doing the heavy lifting in the trenches, making sure the star has the space to shine. They are the ones absorbing the hits, fixing the small errors before they become catastrophes, and maintaining the structural integrity of the entire system.
In my own life, I’ve seen this play out in my career. I once worked at a mid-sized marketing firm where we had this one brilliant, volatile creative director. He was a genius, truly. He could walk into a room and turn a failing pitch into a gold mine in five minutes. But the office was constantly in chaos because he didn't care about the "unseen" work. We had this one operations manager—not a "creative" by any stretch of the imagination—who basically held the entire company together. She was the one managing the logistics, smoothing over client frustrations, and ensuring the infrastructure was solid so the creative director could actually do his job. Without her, that "genius" would have burned the place down in six months. Yet, when the company won awards, everyone talked about the director. Nobody ever talked about the person who made the win possible.
It’s a weird psychological phenomenon, isn't it? We crave the spectacle. We want the highlight reel. There is a certain dopamine hit that comes from seeing a spectacular individual feat. But there is a quiet, profound dignity in being the person who provides stability. There’s a specific kind of veteran wisdom that comes with being the person who knows exactly where to stand to ensure everything stays upright. It’s not about the glory; it’s about the execution. It's about being the reliable piece of the puzzle that everyone takes for granted until it's missing.
I think we see this in politics and business all the time, too. We focus on the charismatic leaders, the ones with the booming voices and the big personalities. We argue about their rhetoric and their vision. But we rarely dive deep into the people who are actually managing the machinery of the state or the corporations. We don't talk about the people who ensure the supply chains don't break or the regulations are actually followed. We ignore the "support staff" of civilization, yet without that layer of specialized, often veteran expertise, the entire structure would crumble under its own weight.
It makes me wonder if we are actually valuing the wrong things as a society. We teach kids to "be the star," to "be the MVP," to "stand out from the crowd." We rarely teach them the value of being the essential, reliable backbone. We don't celebrate the person who shows up every day, does their job with precision, and makes everyone around them better through sheer consistency.
Is it possible that our obsession with individual greatness is actually making us more fragile? If we only cultivate stars and ignore the people who provide the foundation, aren't we just building houses on sand? I'd love to hear what you guys think. Do you think we overvalue the "face" of an organization at the expense of the people who actually make the engine run? And for those of you in the workforce, do you find more satisfaction in being the one in the spotlight, or the one who knows they are the reason the spotlight is even on?
Think about any great team, whether it's in professional sports, a high-stakes tech startup, or even just a tight-knit group of friends. There’s always that one person who isn't there to grab the headlines. They aren't the ones being interviewed on ESPN or featured in the glossy magazine covers. They are the ones doing the heavy lifting in the trenches, making sure the star has the space to shine. They are the ones absorbing the hits, fixing the small errors before they become catastrophes, and maintaining the structural integrity of the entire system.
In my own life, I’ve seen this play out in my career. I once worked at a mid-sized marketing firm where we had this one brilliant, volatile creative director. He was a genius, truly. He could walk into a room and turn a failing pitch into a gold mine in five minutes. But the office was constantly in chaos because he didn't care about the "unseen" work. We had this one operations manager—not a "creative" by any stretch of the imagination—who basically held the entire company together. She was the one managing the logistics, smoothing over client frustrations, and ensuring the infrastructure was solid so the creative director could actually do his job. Without her, that "genius" would have burned the place down in six months. Yet, when the company won awards, everyone talked about the director. Nobody ever talked about the person who made the win possible.
It’s a weird psychological phenomenon, isn't it? We crave the spectacle. We want the highlight reel. There is a certain dopamine hit that comes from seeing a spectacular individual feat. But there is a quiet, profound dignity in being the person who provides stability. There’s a specific kind of veteran wisdom that comes with being the person who knows exactly where to stand to ensure everything stays upright. It’s not about the glory; it’s about the execution. It's about being the reliable piece of the puzzle that everyone takes for granted until it's missing.
I think we see this in politics and business all the time, too. We focus on the charismatic leaders, the ones with the booming voices and the big personalities. We argue about their rhetoric and their vision. But we rarely dive deep into the people who are actually managing the machinery of the state or the corporations. We don't talk about the people who ensure the supply chains don't break or the regulations are actually followed. We ignore the "support staff" of civilization, yet without that layer of specialized, often veteran expertise, the entire structure would crumble under its own weight.
It makes me wonder if we are actually valuing the wrong things as a society. We teach kids to "be the star," to "be the MVP," to "stand out from the crowd." We rarely teach them the value of being the essential, reliable backbone. We don't celebrate the person who shows up every day, does their job with precision, and makes everyone around them better through sheer consistency.
Is it possible that our obsession with individual greatness is actually making us more fragile? If we only cultivate stars and ignore the people who provide the foundation, aren't we just building houses on sand? I'd love to hear what you guys think. Do you think we overvalue the "face" of an organization at the expense of the people who actually make the engine run? And for those of you in the workforce, do you find more satisfaction in being the one in the spotlight, or the one who knows they are the reason the spotlight is even on?