On the evening of April 23, 2005, a young man in a suit and tie strode across the stage at a convention hall in New York City.
The man stood next to the commissioner of the National Football League and posed for the cameras. His dream of becoming a pro football player had just become reality.
For many, this might seem like a triumphant moment. But throughout the experience, the man in the suit did not smile.
He had an axe to grind.
The man on the stage that night was named Aaron Rodgers. A standout college quarterback for the California Golden Bears, he had gone into the NFL Draft with high hopes.
Rodgers expected the San Francisco 49ers to call his name with the draft’s first overall pick. He would then move across the San Francisco Bay from his college campus, sign a lucrative contract, and take the reins as the storied franchise’s next quarterback.
But the 49ers chose another quarterback instead. And the teams that followed San Francisco selected players who starred at different positions than quarterback. As the hours passed, Rodgers appeared visibly despondent.
Finally, a team called Rodgers’ name, with the draft’s 24th pick. But it was probably the last one he wanted to hear from.
The Green Bay Packers were everything the San Francisco 49ers weren’t. Based in the NFL’s smallest host city, they played outdoors in the frigid Wisconsin winters. They had won only one championship in the past 35 seasons. And they had a future Hall of Famer — Brett Favre — as their quarterback.
Rodgers would need to bide his time to get his opportunity. And so, he did.
Rodgers played sparingly in 2005, 2006, and 2007. But then, the Packers and Favre parted ways. And suddenly Rodgers was at the helm of Green Bay’s offense.
The Packers had a lackluster season in 2008. But Rodgers showed poise, preparedness, and promise.
He built on that foundation in 2009, leading Green Bay back to the playoffs. Then, in 2010, Rodgers led the Packers to a Super Bowl championship.
Over the subsequent 12 seasons, Aaron Rodgers won four league Most Valuable Player awards. And he led the Packers to the playoffs nine times.
Rodgers might not have had the evening he wanted at the 2005 NFL Draft. But things have turned out well anyway.
Aaron Rodgers’ story is well known, in part because it’s so uncommon.
Franchise quarterbacks just don’t tend to have the journey that Rodgers did. They don’t fall to the 24th pick. They don’t wait as the heir apparent for three full seasons.
Instead, they follow the path of Peyton Manning.
Manning, a college standout for the Tennessee Volunteers, was the first overall pick in the 1998 NFL Draft. Named the starter from Day One, Manning struggled through his debut season with the Indianapolis Colts. But he was downright dominant thereafter.
Manning led the Colts to the playoffs in his second season. The team then returned to the postseason in 10 of the 11 seasons that followed, winning one Super Bowl championship, and losing in another Super Bowl. Along the way, Manning won 5 MVP awards and established himself as one of football’s premier quarterbacks.
NFL teams have tried to follow the Manning blueprint for years. They’ve chosen talented college quarterbacks at the top of the draft and thrown them into the fire. If these young signal callers don’t make it through the inferno with aplomb, team executives will cut their losses and move on.
This whole process is counterintuitive.
You see, the National Football League is perhaps the least appropriate place for snap evaluations. For any new entrant to its ranks faces a steep learning curve.
The dimensions of NFL fields might be no different than those found at the amateur levels. But the players are faster. The play diagrams are more complex. And the competition for each roster spot is fierce.
A player with top-notch skills and a championship pedigree at the amateur levels can still find himself humbled in the pros. It’s that tough to level up.
The burden is that much tougher for rookie quarterbacks. They must orchestrate an entire offensive attack against the best defenses they’ve ever faced. And if these quarterbacks were high draft picks, they likely took over a struggling team — one without a culture of making key plays. (The teams who lost the most games in the prior season pick first in the draft.)
Add it all up, and it’s ridiculous to expect mastery from the start. Yet increasingly, that’s what teams demand.
Consider the case of Tua Tagovailoa.
The quarterback entered the pros with a sterling resume. He came off the bench to lead the Alabama Crimson Tide to a championship in his first collegiate season, then dominated college football over his next two. Considered a sure thing, Tagovailoa was selected by the Miami Dolphins with the 5th pick of the 2020 NFL Draft.
Tagovailoa started his rookie year on the sidelines, but he quickly found his way into the starting lineup. He proceeded to win 6 of his 9 starts and lead the moribund Dolphins to the brink of the playoffs. He followed that up with another solid campaign — and winning record — in his second year.
Tagovailoa played about as well as could be expected. He mastered the NFL learning curve, winning games consistently. He got a previously putrid Miami offense across the goal line frequently. He didn’t turn the ball over often.
And yet, many pundits have called Tagovailoa a bust. Even with all his accomplishments, Tagovailoa hadn’t proved his worth as an NFL franchise quarterback.
This is the nonsense that Aaron Rodgers avoided when he slid to the 24th pick in the draft. He wasn’t saddled with an underperforming team and asked to work instant magic.
Rodgers got to learn the ropes out of the spotlight. And once he finally got his shot, it was with a team poised to succeed.
The fire still burned hot. But Rodgers was iron clad.
I’ve never played a down of professional football.
And yet, I’ve been both Aaron Rodgers and Tua Tagovailoa.
My Tua Tagovailoa turn came first. Two months and a day after my college graduation, I took the helm of an evening newscast in Midland, Texas.
I’d never produced a newscast on a local TV station before. But my resume looked good enough — dotted with some solid internships and time volunteering for my university’s TV channel.
So, I was offered a producer job. And once I accepted, I was thrown into the fire.
The results were solid, but not spectacular. I made a few early mistakes and was generally slow in reacting to breaking news. Even after fixing those early hiccups, I was never able to get my newscasts above third place in the local rankings.
I ultimately left the news business long before it would have left me. But, in hindsight, I was never Peyton Manning material in that industry.
My second career has ultimately proven more successful. But its arc has been Aaron Rodgers-esque.
You see, when I left the news media, I figured I’d land a role in corporate communications. My skills, pedigree, and track record seemingly lined up well for those positions.
But hiring managers didn’t see it that way. And so, I spent three months unemployed – growing more despondent by the day.
Ultimately, I did land a marketing role. But I knew next to nothing about the discipline.
So, I spent several years learning the ropes. I leaned on supervisors and tenured colleagues to check my work and highlight my blind spots.
This process started with that first marketing job. But it continued as I moved to a new role with a different company. It even carried through when I enrolled in business school.
Eventually, I felt confident enough to take command. I became more strategic and innovative. I took on initiatives I once considered too risky. And I racked up a raft of career accomplishments.
That voice of doubt still lives rent-free in my head. But my track record tells a far different story.
I am an accomplished marketer. But I don’t think I’d have become one if I were thrown into the fire and left to burn.
The journey I’ve taken is mine alone. But my story is hardly unique.
Most of us will find the Aaron Rodgers path more fruitful than the Tua Tagovailoa one.
This shouldn’t come as a surprise.
For we rarely enter a new venture as a finished product. There remains much for us to learn. There are still many ways in which we can grow.
Our participation can be viewed as a long-term investment — for employers and for ourselves. It’s something that will inevitably start slow and uncertain. But it’s also something that provides a valuable return over time.
Many professional roles are set up in this way. But many others are not.
So, whether we’re an NFL quarterback or a TV news producer, we find ourselves up against it. We’re expected to show our full value from the moment we walk in the door. And all too often, we disappoint.
It doesn’t have to be this way. Indeed, it shouldn’t be.
It’s abundantly clear that the into the fire method does more harm than good. It inhibits growth. It makes late bloomers irrelevant. And it causes employers to short-circuit non-immediate returns by pulling the plug too early.
No one wins. So, let’s abandon this losing game.
Let’s do away with the snap judgments. Let’s give each other some grace. And let’s see what good a little more runway gives us.
Life’s as much about opportunities as it is about moments. Let’s not set them ablaze.