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On Renegades, Resiliency and Kicking Ass the Right Way
*Authors note this blog was written before the Steelers' terrible loss to the Bills. The heart might be broken, but the sentiment remains…
A few weeks ago, I showed my friend Melanie the history of Renegade and the Pittsburgh Steelers. She’s not a football fan, but the song coincidentally is her #1 karaoke pick.
(Did you seriously think the Steelers would make the playoffs and I wouldn’t write about it? PLEASE.)
For those of you who are heathens unfamiliar, “Renegade” is the classic Styx song that plays at Heinz Field (I refuse to call it the other name) around the fourth quarter to amp up the defense. The result is usually some big play: a turnover, a Steelers touchdown.
To me, there’s something so sweeping and epic about the song, the energy it elicits, and the never-say-die spirit of us Yinzers. I grew up outside of Pittsburgh through the 80s and 90s, seeing firsthand all the struggles and hardships faced by people I love: mill closures, slow deaths of once-vibrant downtowns, the fading of pride from people’s faces, the resultant health problems that economic insecurity brings. In a way, I was a victim too, of Pittsburgh’s brain drain generation: the local kids with promise and a Western Pennsylvania education who had to leave for better opportunities. While I’ve been gone, the revitalization of Pittsburgh returned it to the ranks of our country’s greatest cities. Like all bone-deep sports fandoms, the Steelers have always kept me connected to capital-H home wherever I’ve lived. . . . and rankling my friends and neighbors who have been Ravens, Bears, and now Eagles fans (#sorrynotsorry).
Even though most NFL players don’t hail from the cities they play in, Pittsburgh never fails to instill in its players that steelworker-like grit and spine. The team had a rough season: changes in leadership at both the QB level (twice) and the offensive coordinator position. . . I’ll have to stop here because I will not be silent on how bad Matt Canada was as OC. Nonetheless, they made the playoffs, that “we can do it” spirit never flagging. THAT is what I love about my Steelers. During their December losing streak, a friend asked me how I could still have hope. My inner Rebecca Welton (another topic for another day) said, “I have to believe in them.”
This spirit has affected my own style. I’ve seen a lot in my career. Leadership changes that were good, changes that were “WTF were they thinking”-level terrible. Failed coup d’êtats, successful coup d’êtats. Various Neros taking counsel only from their Incitatuses. Leaders that made short-term decisions of convenience with lasting negative repercussions.
But the one thing I have always seen work, the cornerstone of the successful companies I’ve worked with, is the top-down spirit and belief that no matter what happened, we could do it. We had faith in each other and a tenacity to see it through. That isn’t something that just happens. It’s consciously built over time through empathetic and strong leaders who aren’t afraid to be humble enough to hire people who just might be smarter than them in particular disciplines. If you’re driving the chariot, you have to let the horses have some direction over the terrain. Their eyes and position show them a different perspective, revealing all the rocks, holes and logs along the path.
Unfortunately, this gets trampled in the drive to be the next Jobs, Bezos, Zuckerberg. Maybe instead of chasing the magazine cover or HBS case study fame, true leaders — who are admired, beloved, of service — need to focus on building something that stands the test of time. Like Pittsburgh. Like the Steelers.
Another topic for another day: the curse of the Terrible Towel. I see you, Bengals, Titans, and Jaguar fans.
*Authors note this blog was written before the Steelers' terrible loss to the Bills. The heart might be broken, but the sentiment remains…
A few weeks ago, I showed my friend Melanie the history of Renegade and the Pittsburgh Steelers. She’s not a football fan, but the song coincidentally is her #1 karaoke pick.
(Did you seriously think the Steelers would make the playoffs and I wouldn’t write about it? PLEASE.)
For those of you who are heathens unfamiliar, “Renegade” is the classic Styx song that plays at Heinz Field (I refuse to call it the other name) around the fourth quarter to amp up the defense. The result is usually some big play: a turnover, a Steelers touchdown.
To me, there’s something so sweeping and epic about the song, the energy it elicits, and the never-say-die spirit of us Yinzers. I grew up outside of Pittsburgh through the 80s and 90s, seeing firsthand all the struggles and hardships faced by people I love: mill closures, slow deaths of once-vibrant downtowns, the fading of pride from people’s faces, the resultant health problems that economic insecurity brings. In a way, I was a victim too, of Pittsburgh’s brain drain generation: the local kids with promise and a Western Pennsylvania education who had to leave for better opportunities. While I’ve been gone, the revitalization of Pittsburgh returned it to the ranks of our country’s greatest cities. Like all bone-deep sports fandoms, the Steelers have always kept me connected to capital-H home wherever I’ve lived. . . . and rankling my friends and neighbors who have been Ravens, Bears, and now Eagles fans (#sorrynotsorry).
Even though most NFL players don’t hail from the cities they play in, Pittsburgh never fails to instill in its players that steelworker-like grit and spine. The team had a rough season: changes in leadership at both the QB level (twice) and the offensive coordinator position. . . I’ll have to stop here because I will not be silent on how bad Matt Canada was as OC. Nonetheless, they made the playoffs, that “we can do it” spirit never flagging. THAT is what I love about my Steelers. During their December losing streak, a friend asked me how I could still have hope. My inner Rebecca Welton (another topic for another day) said, “I have to believe in them.”
This spirit has affected my own style. I’ve seen a lot in my career. Leadership changes that were good, changes that were “WTF were they thinking”-level terrible. Failed coup d’êtats, successful coup d’êtats. Various Neros taking counsel only from their Incitatuses. Leaders that made short-term decisions of convenience with lasting negative repercussions.
But the one thing I have always seen work, the cornerstone of the successful companies I’ve worked with, is the top-down spirit and belief that no matter what happened, we could do it. We had faith in each other and a tenacity to see it through. That isn’t something that just happens. It’s consciously built over time through empathetic and strong leaders who aren’t afraid to be humble enough to hire people who just might be smarter than them in particular disciplines. If you’re driving the chariot, you have to let the horses have some direction over the terrain. Their eyes and position show them a different perspective, revealing all the rocks, holes and logs along the path.
Unfortunately, this gets trampled in the drive to be the next Jobs, Bezos, Zuckerberg. Maybe instead of chasing the magazine cover or HBS case study fame, true leaders — who are admired, beloved, of service — need to focus on building something that stands the test of time. Like Pittsburgh. Like the Steelers.
Another topic for another day: the curse of the Terrible Towel. I see you, Bengals, Titans, and Jaguar fans.
*Authors note this blog was written before the Steelers' terrible loss to the Bills. The heart might be broken, but the sentiment remains…
A few weeks ago, I showed my friend Melanie the history of Renegade and the Pittsburgh Steelers. She’s not a football fan, but the song coincidentally is her #1 karaoke pick.
(Did you seriously think the Steelers would make the playoffs and I wouldn’t write about it? PLEASE.)
For those of you who are heathens unfamiliar, “Renegade” is the classic Styx song that plays at Heinz Field (I refuse to call it the other name) around the fourth quarter to amp up the defense. The result is usually some big play: a turnover, a Steelers touchdown.
To me, there’s something so sweeping and epic about the song, the energy it elicits, and the never-say-die spirit of us Yinzers. I grew up outside of Pittsburgh through the 80s and 90s, seeing firsthand all the struggles and hardships faced by people I love: mill closures, slow deaths of once-vibrant downtowns, the fading of pride from people’s faces, the resultant health problems that economic insecurity brings. In a way, I was a victim too, of Pittsburgh’s brain drain generation: the local kids with promise and a Western Pennsylvania education who had to leave for better opportunities. While I’ve been gone, the revitalization of Pittsburgh returned it to the ranks of our country’s greatest cities. Like all bone-deep sports fandoms, the Steelers have always kept me connected to capital-H home wherever I’ve lived. . . . and rankling my friends and neighbors who have been Ravens, Bears, and now Eagles fans (#sorrynotsorry).
Even though most NFL players don’t hail from the cities they play in, Pittsburgh never fails to instill in its players that steelworker-like grit and spine. The team had a rough season: changes in leadership at both the QB level (twice) and the offensive coordinator position. . . I’ll have to stop here because I will not be silent on how bad Matt Canada was as OC. Nonetheless, they made the playoffs, that “we can do it” spirit never flagging. THAT is what I love about my Steelers. During their December losing streak, a friend asked me how I could still have hope. My inner Rebecca Welton (another topic for another day) said, “I have to believe in them.”
This spirit has affected my own style. I’ve seen a lot in my career. Leadership changes that were good, changes that were “WTF were they thinking”-level terrible. Failed coup d’êtats, successful coup d’êtats. Various Neros taking counsel only from their Incitatuses. Leaders that made short-term decisions of convenience with lasting negative repercussions.
But the one thing I have always seen work, the cornerstone of the successful companies I’ve worked with, is the top-down spirit and belief that no matter what happened, we could do it. We had faith in each other and a tenacity to see it through. That isn’t something that just happens. It’s consciously built over time through empathetic and strong leaders who aren’t afraid to be humble enough to hire people who just might be smarter than them in particular disciplines. If you’re driving the chariot, you have to let the horses have some direction over the terrain. Their eyes and position show them a different perspective, revealing all the rocks, holes and logs along the path.
Unfortunately, this gets trampled in the drive to be the next Jobs, Bezos, Zuckerberg. Maybe instead of chasing the magazine cover or HBS case study fame, true leaders — who are admired, beloved, of service — need to focus on building something that stands the test of time. Like Pittsburgh. Like the Steelers.
Another topic for another day: the curse of the Terrible Towel. I see you, Bengals, Titans, and Jaguar fans.
*Authors note this blog was written before the Steelers' terrible loss to the Bills. The heart might be broken, but the sentiment remains…
A few weeks ago, I showed my friend Melanie the history of Renegade and the Pittsburgh Steelers. She’s not a football fan, but the song coincidentally is her #1 karaoke pick.
(Did you seriously think the Steelers would make the playoffs and I wouldn’t write about it? PLEASE.)
For those of you who are heathens unfamiliar, “Renegade” is the classic Styx song that plays at Heinz Field (I refuse to call it the other name) around the fourth quarter to amp up the defense. The result is usually some big play: a turnover, a Steelers touchdown.
To me, there’s something so sweeping and epic about the song, the energy it elicits, and the never-say-die spirit of us Yinzers. I grew up outside of Pittsburgh through the 80s and 90s, seeing firsthand all the struggles and hardships faced by people I love: mill closures, slow deaths of once-vibrant downtowns, the fading of pride from people’s faces, the resultant health problems that economic insecurity brings. In a way, I was a victim too, of Pittsburgh’s brain drain generation: the local kids with promise and a Western Pennsylvania education who had to leave for better opportunities. While I’ve been gone, the revitalization of Pittsburgh returned it to the ranks of our country’s greatest cities. Like all bone-deep sports fandoms, the Steelers have always kept me connected to capital-H home wherever I’ve lived. . . . and rankling my friends and neighbors who have been Ravens, Bears, and now Eagles fans (#sorrynotsorry).
Even though most NFL players don’t hail from the cities they play in, Pittsburgh never fails to instill in its players that steelworker-like grit and spine. The team had a rough season: changes in leadership at both the QB level (twice) and the offensive coordinator position. . . I’ll have to stop here because I will not be silent on how bad Matt Canada was as OC. Nonetheless, they made the playoffs, that “we can do it” spirit never flagging. THAT is what I love about my Steelers. During their December losing streak, a friend asked me how I could still have hope. My inner Rebecca Welton (another topic for another day) said, “I have to believe in them.”
This spirit has affected my own style. I’ve seen a lot in my career. Leadership changes that were good, changes that were “WTF were they thinking”-level terrible. Failed coup d’êtats, successful coup d’êtats. Various Neros taking counsel only from their Incitatuses. Leaders that made short-term decisions of convenience with lasting negative repercussions.
But the one thing I have always seen work, the cornerstone of the successful companies I’ve worked with, is the top-down spirit and belief that no matter what happened, we could do it. We had faith in each other and a tenacity to see it through. That isn’t something that just happens. It’s consciously built over time through empathetic and strong leaders who aren’t afraid to be humble enough to hire people who just might be smarter than them in particular disciplines. If you’re driving the chariot, you have to let the horses have some direction over the terrain. Their eyes and position show them a different perspective, revealing all the rocks, holes and logs along the path.
Unfortunately, this gets trampled in the drive to be the next Jobs, Bezos, Zuckerberg. Maybe instead of chasing the magazine cover or HBS case study fame, true leaders — who are admired, beloved, of service — need to focus on building something that stands the test of time. Like Pittsburgh. Like the Steelers.
Another topic for another day: the curse of the Terrible Towel. I see you, Bengals, Titans, and Jaguar fans.
