Success is a Choice
Success in football came naturally to me, not because it was easy, but because the roadmap was clear. The steps were laid out, and I could follow them with relentless focus.
Be a good teammate.
Train to become bigger, faster, stronger.
Refine your footwork, timing and technique.
Study the playbook.
Take care of your mind and body.
Embrace competition.
Get better every single day.
None of those were groundbreaking ideas. But they were within my control.
Success is rarely a mystery. It’s about making the decision to consistently do the things that move you forward, especially when no one is watching.
And the decision to succeed wasn’t something I made in the moment. I made it long before the moments when fatigue and doubt made quitting feel easier. I decided early on that I was going to succeed no matter what and outwork my way to reach those goals.
That mindset took me from a two-star recruit to an undrafted free agent who became a starter in the NFL. And while the climb was steep, the definition of success was measurable with starts, wins, film grades. It was tangible and you knew where you stood.
But what didn’t come naturally was making that same choice after football.
Football was a rare gift. I lived out a dream I’d had since I was a kid—something most people never get to do. But when it ended, I was hit with the question: Now what?
Football demanded everything from me, not just during the season, but year-round. As an undrafted player, I never had job security. Every offseason, I had to fight to prove I belonged. And in some ways, I loved it. I needed that intensity. That structure. That pressure. It required a level of focus and discipline that shaped every part of my life.
So when that structure went away, I had to start over.
That’s the flip side of choice. When you have the freedom and opportunity to choose whatever you want, sometimes that’s a recipe for disaster.
You start something half-heartedly.
You face some resistance.
You second-guess yourself.
You quit.
A month goes by. Then a quarter. Then a year.
And now you’re stuck—not because you didn’t want success, but because you hadn’t redefined what success even looked like for this next chapter.
That’s where I found myself. I had the drive and hunger, but I underestimated just how different the path to success looks without the game.
After football, success and purpose becomes something deeper. It became about pursuing what I’m truly passionate about. Building something that brings the same fire and energy I felt when I played. But here’s what I’ve had to remind myself over and over again:
The success I achieved in football didn’t happen overnight. It took years. It was a grind. It took heartbreak, patience and resilience. There were no shortcuts then, and there won’t be any now.
It’s the same process, just in a new arena.
There’s a quote I come back to often from Vince Lombardi:
“Fatigue makes cowards of us all.”
That’s not just physical fatigue. It’s emotional and mental fatigue. The weariness that creeps in when you’re unclear, unstructured or waiting for the perfect conditions to take your shot.
Fatigue feeds on doubt, fear, procrastination and self-pity. And if you let it, it’ll chew you up and spit you out, no matter who you are.
So how did I fix it?
I rebuilt structure in my life, brick by brick.
I let go of my ego and accepted that no one owes you anything.
I continued to show up and did the work anyway.
I redefined success that aligned with my passions.
That’s what I’ve been learning since stepping away from the game. That success is still a choice—but now, it’s one I have to actively make every day. I’ve seen what happens when I make the decision to commit and focus on my goals and what’s possible if I do.
Success doesn’t start with the outcome. It starts with the mindset.
That part is always within your control.
So wherever you are right now, whether you’re in the middle of a career shift, launching something new or still trying to figure out what’s next, remind yourself:
The cost of waiting is much higher than the cost of trying. You can’t focus so much on winning that you become afraid to lose.