GREAT THINGS START IN LITTLE ROOMS

Last weekend, I found myself glued to the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame inductions. Outkast was one of the many artists honored, and during his speech, Andre 3000 looked out at the crowd and said:

“Great things start in little rooms.”

He was emotional, and in a small way, I could relate. 

A reminder that successful journeys almost always start somewhere small. 

Somewhere unlikely. 

Somewhere most people never see.

And it got me thinking about my little room.

Thirty-one years ago, my first job in television took me to Rhinelander, Wisconsin, way up north, where winter is a personality trait and the local news included snowmobile derbies, ice fishing, turkey bowling, and one unforgettable story about wood-tick racing on a pool table.

The NBC affiliate wasn’t glamorous. It wasn’t high-tech. And I certainly wasn’t ready.
But it was the room where everything began.

I was the reporter. The anchor. The writer. The editor. The cameraman. The producer. If a job needed doing, I did it. Not because I was talented, but because that’s what the job demanded. And looking back, it’s where I learned the lesson I couldn’t possibly have understood at the time:

The reps matter more than the results.

I didn’t know that in 1994.
I didn’t know that one day I’d be writing newsletters, hosting a podcast, and speaking on stages about trust and leadership.
I didn’t know that pregame and postgame shows would become a career.
I didn’t know any of the tech, opportunities, or platforms that fill my world today even existed.

All I knew was to show up, work hard, and learn.

And that thread is still running through everything I do. The world around us has changed in ways I could have never imagined back then. The tools. The speed. The expectations. The constant evolution. But what hasn’t changed is the part we control.

I thought about that again today as I wrapped up a keynote for Pro Value Insurance at their retreat in Branson. We talked about how quickly the workplace is changing. The truth is, it has always been changing. It always will. But the core of how we navigate it is the same whether you’re in a tiny station up north or standing on a stage in front of a room of leaders.

Great things really do start in little rooms. Mine was in Rhinelander. All these years later, I’m still showing up, still learning, still evolving, and somehow still living this dream as I head into my nineteenth season with the Royals.

That’s Small Ball.

Question: What was the little room where your work ethic was born… and how has it carried you through all the changes since?

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