"I’m a sticky guy. It’s hard to get rid of me."

This is how former Illini and current Arizona Cardinals football player Tip Reiman described his path to success in a recent interview. 

Elaborating further, Tip said, "I’m just going to show up and work and do absolutely everything in my power to make it impossible for someone to get rid of me." 

Having gotten to know Tip on and off the field the last few years, that's exactly what I’ve watched him do  – going from a walk-on to a scholarship player to a starter to one of the top tight ends taken in the 2024 NFL Draft. And I’m thrilled for him. 

But for me, this is more than just a nice story about a friend who worked hard to achieve his dream. When I hear Tip talk about “stickiness,” I think to myself, “That’s it. That’s my story.” And I’m wondering if it’s not your story, as well. 

You see, I’ve never been the “phenom.”  Whether it was school or sports or now business, I’ve never been the guy whose natural gifts quickly elevated me to the top of the field. I’ve always been a middle of the pack guy who had to grind his way up. 

And if I’m being honest, that’s been a source of disappointment for me. I’d watch the exceptionally gifted student or basketball player or business leader (and the attention they’d garner), and I’d think to myself, “Man, if only I could be like them.” 

But over the years, my perspective has shifted. For starters, I’ve learned that people with exceptional gifts often lack an exceptional work ethic. And it’s not hard to understand why. When something comes easy, you’re generally not inclined to work as hard at it. But over time, that lack of hunger can seriously inhibit growth.  

I’ve also learned there’s such a thing as being too smart for your own good. Oftentimes, supremely gifted people become so enamored with their abilities, they fail to do something productive with them. This was especially true of my experience in the tech start-up world, where brilliant “thinkers” greatly outnumbered brilliant “executors” who were bringing tangible value to the world. 

Which brings me back to Tip’s comments and why I resonated with them so deeply. At the heart of “stickiness” is a value exchange. Tip is essentially saying, “I don’t care if you fail to immediately see my potential. I’m going to show you my potential by adding real value every single day. And that value is going to compound over time, to the point you’re not going to have any choice but to keep me around.” 

I don’t know about you, but I’ll take the person who has that mindset with 7/10 talent over the person who has 10/10 talent with marginal hunger every time. It’s Tip’s story. It’s my story. And I’ll bet, to at least some extent, it’s your story as well. 

“Grit” author Angela Duckworth puts it this way:

“Without effort, your talent is nothing more than your unmet potential. Without effort, your skill is nothing more than what you could have done but didn’t.“

Alright, it’s your turn to chime in:

1. In what ways does Tip’s conception of “stickiness” resonate with you?

2. How have you seen this approach pay off in life?

3. In what area(s) of life are you hungry to add more value?

A thought from a fellow traveler

In the previous newsletter, I discussed the pitfalls of an “Am I doing it right?” mentality, but acknowledged that certain professions are perhaps exempt from this principle (including medicine). So it was interesting to receive the following two responses within minutes of each other. 

The first emailer said, “I want my surgeon to focus on Self 2 and not the textbook!”

The second came from an actual physician who said, ”Truly excellent and personalized care requires trusting your gut more often than patients would be comfortable with.”

So there you go. Even in more technical fields, readers are championing the benefits of trusting discernment over the textbook. 

Carry on fellow travelers, we’ll talk soon.