Sometimes the experiences that shape our careers have nothing to do with our careers.

Mine happened on a football field in the Czech Republic.

It wasn’t a championship. It wasn’t a miracle victory. In fact, it was a loss.

But nearly two decades later, I still think about that game—not because of the score, but because it fundamentally changed the way I solve problems.

When I moved to the Czech Republic in 2008, I wasn’t chasing a marketing career. I was chasing adventure.

Like many of the opportunities that have shaped my life, this one wasn’t planned.

While living in Ostrava, I became involved with the Havířov Devils, an American football club competing in the Czech league. Having competed in Texas high school football, earned a sports scholarship to Texas A&M, and studied the game throughout my athletic career, I was asked to coach the team’s defense and special teams while also assisting with the offense.

It was my first opportunity to lead an entire defensive unit.

What I didn’t realize at the time was that I wasn’t just coaching football—I was beginning to learn how complex systems succeed or fail.

Our first major challenge came against the Prague Lions, one of the strongest and best-funded teams in the country.

Based on what I knew about our roster, I implemented a traditional Cover 2 zone defense.

For those unfamiliar with football, Cover 2 is designed to keep explosive plays in front of the defense by dividing deep coverage between two safeties while defenders underneath protect shorter routes.

It’s disciplined.

It’s structured.

And when executed well, it’s incredibly effective.

On paper, the strategy made sense.

Reality had other plans.

From the opening drive, Prague repeatedly attacked the middle of the field through their tight end.

Again.

Again.

And again.

By halftime it was obvious our defensive plan wasn’t working.

Losing bothered me.

Not because of the score.

Because I knew I hadn’t put our players in the best position to succeed.

As coaches, it’s easy to point toward execution.

A missed tackle.

A blown assignment.

A lack of experience.

But I couldn’t shake the feeling that if multiple players were struggling in multiple situations, the common denominator wasn’t them.

It was me.

I had asked them to execute a system that I didn’t fully understand how to adapt to the strengths and weaknesses of the people standing in front of me.

I made myself a promise that afternoon.

I would never again ask a team to fit my system.

I would build systems that fit the team.

The next practice became a research project.

Instead of relying on assumptions or instinct, we measured everything we could.

We organized a team combine.

Every player was tested.

Speed.

Acceleration.

Agility.

Strength.

Size.

Position-specific abilities.

Instead of opinions, we had data.

Instead of guessing what players should do, we could see what they were actually capable of doing.

Patterns began to emerge.

Some players could close space quickly.

Others excelled in open-field tackling.

Some processed plays faster than they moved.

Others had exceptional recovery speed.

The defense almost designed itself.

Not around my favorite scheme.

Around the people wearing the helmets.

Those few days changed how I thought about leadership.

Football wasn’t just X’s and O’s anymore.

It became systems design.

Every player’s strengths became an input.

Every weakness became a design constraint.

Instead of forcing twenty-two individuals into a rigid structure, we built a defensive system that amplified what our team already did well while minimizing situations that exposed our limitations.

The objective wasn’t perfection.

It was putting every player in the best possible position to succeed.

Months later we faced the Prague Lions again.

This time it wasn’t an early-season matchup.

It was a playoff game.

The same opponent.

The same challenge.

The same opportunity to prove whether the work had actually mattered.

This time our defense held.

The explosive plays disappeared.

The adjustments worked.

The system worked.

We lost the game…

2–0.

Our only points allowed came from an offensive safety.

Walking off that field felt completely different than the first meeting.

We hadn’t just improved.

We had proven that the process worked.

The following season, that same foundation carried us even further.

We won the league championship.

The trophy was rewarding.

But that wasn’t the lesson I carried with me.

The lesson was that success wasn’t created during the championship game.

It was created months earlier, when we stopped guessing and started measuring.

When we stopped blaming execution and started improving the system.

Years later, I realized I wasn’t building football defenses anymore.

I was building marketing organizations.

Different industry.

Different technology.

Exactly the same challenge.

When a website underperforms…

When Sales blames Marketing…

When Marketing blames lead quality…

When IT blames software…

I remember that football field.

My first question is never,

“Who made the mistake?”

It’s,

“What system produced this result?”

Because people usually perform within the systems they’re given.

Change the system.

You change the outcome.