52 Cups of Coffee: Inspiring and insightful stories for navigating life’s uncertainties (19 page)

Tom Izzo

Michigan State University Basketball Offices in East Lansing, Michigan

No coffee, just conversation

Decide what you value, so you know what you’re willing to pay to get it.

For fans of college basketball, and especially of Michigan State, Tom Izzo
is a hero. As of 2011, he had led MSU’s basketball team to the 2000 National Championship, six Final Fours and six Big Ten Championships. In 2011, he earned the prestigious Legends of Coaching Award. And, a year before, when the Cleveland Cavaliers made him an offer to coach in the NBA, the East Lansing community responded with a “We Love Izzo” ad campaign to show the coach how much they wanted him to stay, which he
did.

But as I sat in his office, all
of his prominence melted away. Tom is just a genuine guy from a small Michigan town, happy to take an hour out of his day to talk with a fellow Spartan.

* * *

After the numerous conversations I’d had during the previous nine months, I noticed a distinct trend: life rarely goes according to plan. No one I’d talked to was doing what they expected they’d be doing ten years before. I’d also observed that, with the right approach, life would take you to unexpected and incredible places.

It
is a fascinating concept: your life will inevitably go places you can’t begin to imagine. The closer I got to graduation, the more that thought was on my mind. So, out of curiosity, I posed the question to Tom: When you were two weeks away from graduating, where did you think life would take you?

As I had walked past the National Championship trophie
s in the lobby, through the hallway lined with photos of NBA greats like Magic Johnson and Steve Smith, I couldn’t help but assume Tom hadn’t foreseen this would be the culmination of his career path.

I was right.
He earned an education degree and had always thought he would be teaching somewhere within the K12 system. When he graduated from Northern Michigan University, jumping into a classroom to teach didn’t feel right, so he opted for grad school instead. He had played on the basketball team during his undergrad years, and when he started school again, he decided to become the basketball team’s Graduate Assistant. With his love for basketball and strong competitive spirit, it was no surprise that Tom decided to be a teacher on the court instead of in the classroom.

I asked him at what point
he realized he wasn’t going to be a teacher and discovered that he might have a shot at coaching Division I basketball.

Tom told me he and his college roommate (and best friend since age 9),
Steve Mariucci, had spent time kicking around fantasies about successful coaching careers—creating aspirations they knew were unrealistic, but worth dreaming about anyway. As he said to me, “I’m sure you’ve spent time thinking about what it’d be like to be a millionaire.” In reality, he figured the likely outcome would be possibly getting a coaching gig at some Division II school. Tom had clearly exceeded that goal. (Steve Mariucci has too: he went on to coach for the San Francisco 49ers and Detroit Lions. Both coaches attribute their successes to the support and guidance they received from the other.)

While Tom wasn
’t downplaying his success as he told the story in retrospect, it seemed like the whole thing had been easy: Reaching an ambitious dream is hard enough, exceeding one is almost unthinkable. So I asked him what made the difference between coaching Division II and Division I. What separated good from great?

Tom didn
’t ponder the question; he knew the answer immediately: Sacrifice.

At age 29, Tom was working as a graduate assistant at Michigan State, making $4,000 a year, often working 18-hour days, with no girlfriend—because “what woman dates a man who makes $4,000 a year?”
While his friends were working in stable jobs, establishing their careers and settling down with wives and kids, Tom was fielding an increasing number of calls from his mother inquiring when he was going to wise up and “get a real job.”

It hadn
’t been an easy lifestyle, but he knew that it was what it would take to reach the next level. He said he had reached an incredible level of success because he’d been able to persist in moments where most people quit. His path involved great sacrifice. While Tom was proud of the program he had built and grateful for the opportunities he’s had, his life had not been without regret. He juggles the demands of a stressful career with his role as a husband and father; he also looks back and knows there are many things he could have done differently. I appreciated Tom’s honesty—he wanted me to recognize there were pros and cons to every career path.

Stress and pressure were
the price Tom paid for a chance to cut down the net after earning a National Title, to dress up as a Spartan in front of 16,000 adoring fans, to watch young freshman players become confident graduates, and to have a lasting impression on a community and a university.

* * *

We had been talking for an hour when Tom’s phone rang. He pretended he didn’t hear it. When his secretary buzzed him to say he had someone waiting to talk, he said he’d be a second and then continued telling me stories—as if he had all the time in the world.

When we finally wrapped up our conversation, he said, “Well, I hope there was something helpful in that,” and I assured him there was.
Talking with Tom brought me an incredible sense of relief.

The truth is, for the past year
, I’d had a quiet, yet relentless voice in my head creating an urgency to succeed. I am grateful for my internal drive, bit it had become a problem, a fear that if I don’t “succeed” within a year or two of graduation, I will miss my window of opportunity and, more importantly, let a lot of people down.

I explained this to Tom
, and he made it very clear my assumption was wrong. Success does not have a standard protocol or predetermined timeline. Some people fast track to success, but others take an indirect route. He told me not to worry about the expectations of others; what I expect from myself is a heck of a lot more important than what others expect from me.

Near the end of the meeting, Tom looked at me and said, “Decide what you value, so you know what you’re willing to pay to get it. Then pursue that goal with discipline and a strong work ethic—but not to
the point of obsession.”

Because when the time
was right, the hard work would pay off. Although, before I did that, I needed to decide what I was willing to sacrifice.

Peggy Brannan

Motor City Brewing Works in Detroit, Michigan

Small French-pressed coffee

Be a part of something bigger than yourself; make a difference.

It was a sunny day when I visited the
Green Garage in Detroit, and the hour-long drive was just what I had needed to clear my head from a stressful few weeks of school. When I arrived at the address, I found an old building clearly under construction, which I had to circle a few times to make sure it was the right spot.

I entered the
building, carefully stepping into the large front room filled with construction equipment, and made my way around the corner where I found a few dozen people clustered around two large tables, positioned between various piles of building materials. The tables were covered with sack lunches brought from home, with baked goods for sharing sitting in the middle. I found Peggy Brennan and received a warm welcome before I was ushered to an open spot at the table and introduced to the crew.

A friend had suggested I meet with Peggy for coffee, but the simple meeting turned into an afternoon adventure. T
ogether, Peggy and her husband Tom ran the Green Garage in Detroit, which was a venture that was not easily labeled. In 2008, Peggy and Tom bought the 90-year-old building, which in its glory days had been a showroom for Model T automobiles before becoming one of Detroit’s numerous boarded-up buildings. The vision for the purchase was to restore the building (which was listed in the National Historic Registry) to its original condition and turn it into a resource center and co-working space for entrepreneurs starting environmentally sustainable businesses.

It
began as an idea based on the triple-bottom-line business model, where the focus was not just profits, but also the environment and the community. The project had been the result of the efforts of 200 individuals working together to make a difference in Detroit’s Midtown neighborhood.

Because it
was a group effort, each Friday the Garage hosted a community lunch where anyone interested in the project could come and learn about how the project was progressing. Peggy suggested I join. That’s how I ended up having lunch with people from ages four (kids of one of the main workers) to 74 (an older couple who had been longtime friends and supporters of both Peggy and the project). It certainly felt like a community and the laughter and lightheartedness of the lunch made me feel at home; there was an overwhelming sense of purpose and excitement about the renovation project, which had required much problem-solving and elbow grease.

When the meeting ended, Peggy took me
on a tour of the building, and I was blown away by everything I saw. It was a net-zero renovation, which meant the project was trying to be as efficient as possible. Just about everything I saw was recycled, reused, or repurposed in one way or another.

* * *

After the tour, we headed across the street to Motor City Brewing Works, a restaurant with a vibrant young atmosphere that counteracted the doom-and-gloom picture the news paints for Detroit. We ordered a large French-press of coffee to share as I learned more about Peggy.

Not long after we started talking, Peggy
’s sister and two nieces joined us and our conversation drifted to Detroit’s history. They were realistic about the problems facing the city, but were adamant that the city was filled with opportunity for those willing to get their hands dirty—people willing to start projects like the Green Garage.

They were so excited to be a part of the rebuilding efforts
that I was surprised to find out their project had happened almost by accident.

After their three kids had grown, Peggy had started wor
king on a Master’s degree in Library Science while Tom worked as a consultant for Accenture. After 20 years in the business, Tom needed a change of pace and decided to retire—but he wanted a project to occupy his free time.

Some of their friends had developed an interest in sustai
nability, often testing new ways to save energy, lower costs, and reduce the negative impact on the environment in their homes. Peggy and Tom found themselves trying different things around the house and then getting together with their group of friends to swap stories. They were enjoying themselves in the process, and before long the group was holding weekly meetings. They hadn’t planned for something big to emerge from the group, but the seed of an idea had been planted and, over the course of seven years, grew into the concept for the Green Garage.

Peggy and Tom started a real estate search that led them to the old historic building in Midtown, and they decided to buy it and turn their idea into a reality.
Eighteen months later, they were ready to officially open the doors after completing the arduous, yet wonderful, renovation project.

I loved the story because it paralleled my life and hit home. Two years before,
my friend Brett and I had started getting together for a beer every Friday to talk about ideas and collaborate on projects. We hadn’t expected anything big to come out of the meetings, but we started inviting others until our group of three had turned to six, then twelve, and eventually a few dozen people contributing to an exciting entrepreneurial movement on campus.

What our group and the Green Garage shared was a sense of authenticity. People only joined if they were passionate enough to get their hands dirty
, and it created a magical quality for the group. Everyone was excited to be a part of something greater than themselves.

It wasn
’t until I had crowded around a table of volunteers, happily spending their lunch break in an unfinished building in the company of like-minded individuals, that I realized how much belief in a vision could create meaning.

* * *

Whether we are conscious of it or not, we are all chasing meaning. We’re all looking for proof that the ups and downs of life—the challenges, setbacks, and heartbreak—are worth something. We want to look back and know that our lives mattered, that we made a difference.

At times,
the magnitude of changing the world can be daunting—to the point where there seems to be no sense in trying. The Green Garage and the efforts of all involved disprove that. Big change starts small. It takes one person with an idea and enough passion to attract others to join the cause. With time and continuous commitment, momentum builds, and positive change happens.

The Green Garage
is one of many growing initiatives in Detroit, composed of passionate individuals pushing positive ideas forward.

But Cup 37
isn’t just a story about Detroit.

It
is a story about finding a community of people who fit your passion and aptitude, and allow you to contribute to something greater. It is a story about finding meaning, about making a difference.

It
is a story for everyone.