"You made me keep you."

In November 1977, I saw my name at the very bottom of a list taped to a high school basketball coach’s office window.

There were 13 names on that list.

Mine was number 13.

And I couldn’t have been happier.

To understand why, go back a couple of years.

I was a sophomore in high school, playing football, which was my best sport. During practice one day, I was holding a tackling dummy for some of the fourth-stringers.

One awkward kid, who would probably never play in a real game, came barreling toward me and missed the padded dummy completely, crumbling into my leg like a newborn baby giraffe taking its first steps.

My knee buckled in a direction it was not designed to go.

There was a pop, followed by pain unlike anything I’d ever experienced. There was probably a scream involved.

I was done for the year. Football AND basketball.

I was devastated.

The doctors wanted to operate. Back then, there was no arthroscopic surgery. They were talking about full-on knifing, an ankle-to-hip cast, and months on crutches.

I declined and took my chances.

After a few months, I had pretty much resigned myself to the possibility that my athletic career was over.

So I decided to enjoy the summer before my junior year.

There weren’t any drugs involved, but there was plenty of beer. Falstaff was brewed just a few miles from my neighborhood, so my buddies and I were big proponents of supporting the local economy. If you’re doing the math, no, we were not of age. But we were resourceful.

Since I wasn’t participating in summer football workouts, I gained about 15 pounds of beer weight and got seriously out of shape.

On the first day of classes my junior year, the football coach called me into his office.

He practically begged me to play.

I told him I didn’t think my knee could handle it, and besides, I hadn’t done a damn thing all summer except party.

He told me he thought I could probably play football in college.

He was a good salesperson.

I was at practice that afternoon.

He announced to the team that I would be the starting tight end.

I puked after that first practice.

The next day, during the second practice, I made a cut while running a pass route.

My knee collapsed.

And that was the end of football.

But after several more months of healing, I still had the basketball bug.

I’d been 6'1" in eighth grade and was a pretty good basketball player. Problem was, I didn’t grow another inch. Everybody else caught up, and plenty of them kept growing.

I still believed I could play, though.

And more than anything, I wanted to make the varsity basketball team my senior year.

That became my goal.

So I started working. I strengthened my knee and played basketball every chance I got, in CYO leagues, recreational leagues, and pickup games. I ran on my own and worked to get back into shape.

I knew making the team would be a long shot. I’d missed a lot of time, and there were plenty of younger players with more talent.

But I wasn’t going to let that stop me.

When senior-year tryouts arrived, I showed up.

Coach K, Steve Kunasek, told me something I didn’t particularly want to hear.

He’d never had a senior make the varsity team who hadn’t played the year before.

I told him he’d have his first.

And during that week of tryouts, I made it my mission to give him absolutely no reason to cut me.

I outhustled, outworked, and out-“wanted to” every other player.

I was first in every sprint drill and dove after every loose ball. I was a pain in the ass on defense, and I outrebounded kids who were taller and more talented because I fought for position.

I was everywhere.

The more talented underclassmen hated me.

I wasn’t close to being the best basketball player at those tryouts. I knew that.

But I was determined to be the guy who worked the hardest.

Then came that November day in 1977.

The list went up on the window outside the coaches’ office.

Thirteen players had made the varsity team.

My name was last.

I’d made it.

At our first full-team practice the next day, Coach K pulled me aside.

Confidently, but not cockily.

I knew exactly how hard I’d worked to get there.

That season, I didn’t play much. I was usually the last guy off the bench.

But I didn’t care.

I’d accomplished something I’d been told had never happened before.

Looking back almost 50 years later, I don’t remember the playing time. What I remember is how badly I wanted it, and what I was willing to do to get it.

Coach Kunasek passed away several years ago. But when I get together with my old high school buddies, we still talk about him like he’s coaching us today.

And in a way, he is.

RIP, Coach K. You made a hell of an impact on my life.

I’ve learned over the years, in sports, sales, and just about everything else, that you don’t have to be the most naturally talented person in the room to accomplish something extraordinary.

But you’d better be willing to do the things that the more talented people might not.

I wasn’t going to grow another six inches, and I couldn’t recover the seasons I’d missed.

What I could control was how I prepared, how hard I worked, how much I improved, and what I did when I got my opportunity.

That’s where the difference was made.

Salespeople get the same deal.

I’ve known salespeople who seem to have every natural advantage. They’re charismatic, quick on their feet, and can talk to anybody.

I’ve also known people who weren’t naturally outgoing, weren’t particularly smooth, and didn’t have the gift of gab.

And some of those people became phenomenal sales professionals.

I saw this firsthand with a sales rep at a client company, Terry.

His company was ready to fire him. He wasn’t as smooth as the other reps, he stuttered a bit when he got excited, and he didn’t have the college education many of them had.

But I saw something in Terry that his managers were overlooking. He had more want-to, discipline, and work ethic than most of the more polished reps. And he was determined to prove he belonged there.

I suggested they give him a chance to prove himself.

Six months later, Terry wasn’t the number one salesperson in the company.

He was number three. Out of 15.

Not bad for a guy who had been this close to getting fired.

I’ve seen it over and over again. Salespeople who might not have the natural advantages of others can become outstanding performers because they’re willing to learn, practice, prepare, ask for feedback, make adjustments, and keep getting better.

They develop skills that others assume you either have or you don’t.

And they do the work.

Now, here we are in November, with the finish line of 2026 coming into view.

Maybe you’ve had a great year. Maybe it’s been disappointing. Maybe you’ve had a few knee-buckling moments of your own.

What would you have to do between now and the end of the year to give yourself the best possible start to 2027?

Forget the revenue goal for a minute. What skills do you need to improve? What habits need to change, and what conversations are you avoiding?

What do you need to practice until you can do it confidently and naturally?

And are you willing to do the work to become the salesperson who can get what you want?

Because wanting something is easy.

I wanted to make that basketball team. But if I’d simply wished for it while continuing my summer beer-drinking program, there’s no way my name would have been anywhere on that list.

Coach K held me to a standard and gave me a chance to prove what I was capable of. Years later, I saw that same determination in Terry.

That’s a big part of why I created Smart Calling Ultimate Sales Pro Mastery. I know what can happen when someone has the want-to, gets the right coaching, and does the work.

We work on preparing intelligently, having more effective conversations, asking better questions, handling resistance with confidence, and moving opportunities forward. And we work on the mindset, habits, practice, and accountability that turn knowledge into performance.

You get live training, coaching, resources, and a group of sales pros who are serious about getting better.

If you’re serious about finishing 2026 strong and making 2027 your best year yet, here’s your opportunity to get the training, coaching, and accountability to make it happen.

Learn more and apply for Smart Calling Ultimate Sales Pro Mastery

You don’t need to be the most naturally gifted salesperson out there.

But you can become awfully difficult to overlook.

Make it your best week ever!