I was listening recently to a podcast with Seth Wickersham, who wrote a book about quarterbacks called American Kings, and he shared a small detail that stopped me in my tracks. At one point, Wickersham saw a notepad belonging to Tom Brady. Scribbled on it were affirmations, simple, direct statements Brady wrote to himself. Things like, “You are the man.”
My first reaction, like I suspect most people’s, was disbelief mixed with a little eye-rolling. Tom Brady? The guy with the rings, the records, the dynasty? If anyone on earth should be immune from self-doubt, surely it’s him. Doesn’t the world remind him daily that he’s special? Shouldn’t it be obvious, even to himself?
But the more I sat with it, the more that reaction unraveled.
Unlike almost any other profession, elite coaches and athletes live under a microscope of constant judgment. Even the best of the best are subjected to second-guessing that borders on oppressive. Every throw, every decision, every fraction of a second is replayed, dissected, and criticized by millions of people who have absolutely nothing at stake except their mood on a Sunday afternoon.
I know this impulse well, because I catch myself doing it all the time. Stefanski is a bad play caller, Caitlin Clark should have passed that ball. Aaron Rodgers should have thrown that one away. These thoughts pop out of my mouth as if they are obvious truths rather than armchair commentary. Every now and then, though, the stupidity of one of those remarks bounces off the wall and comes right back at me.
I imagine Kevin Stefanski sitting in the cube next to mine at work and turning to me with the same tone of certainty: “Jesus, John, how could you concede a five percent discount? They were ready to give you the order at list price.” The absurdity becomes clear pretty quickly. I am very glad that selling industrial machinery is not a spectator sport, complete with instant replay and a talk-radio postmortem.
That’s when the point really lands. If I, sitting comfortably on my couch, feel free to nitpick the decisions of world-class coaches and athletes, imagine what it feels like to be the one actually making those decisions, knowing the criticism is coming no matter what. Even Tom Brady is not immune to that barrage. In that context, writing “you are the man” on a notepad doesn’t look silly at all. It looks healthy.
Affirmations aren’t about ego. They’re about anchoring yourself when the noise gets loud. Performance, whether in sports, sales, or life, is always more fluid when it’s built on a foundation of thoughtful self-confidence. Not bravado. Not denial. Just a quiet reminder that you belong, that you’ve done the work, that one mistake doesn’t erase everything else.
That may be the real lesson to take from Brady’s notepad. It’s not that even legends need reassurance—though they do. It’s that all of us perform better when we remember we’re doing just fine. And maybe there’s a second lesson tucked in there for us fans as well. Our favorite athletes might actually perform a little better if we cheer them because they’re on our team, even if they make a mistake.
So while I have made a sport out of second guessing Kevin Stefanski I am also old enough to know, when it comes to football he is the expert. And after six years of winning and losing, he is as well positioned as anybody on earth to make the next 6 years good ones.
So call it an early New Years resolution, but I hope the Browns keep Coach Stefanski and I hope in spite of the legions of folks in the peanut gallery, that Kevin Stefanski reminds himself every day that he's one of 32 people on earth so qualified that he gets to lead an NFL team into battle every Sunday.
Confidence, it turns out, is not something you achieve once and keep forever. It’s something you practice. Sometimes with a Lombardi Trophy. Sometimes with a pen and a simple sentence written to yourself: you are the man.
