My father spent four months with us in the summer of 2019. He was 83 years old and although he moved slowly, he was really healthy. It was a summer filled with golf and fishing and eating. Truly a blessing. Toward the end of his stay the Tennessee Titans held their first preseason game against the New England Patriots. Dad thinks that I’m involved in everything in the city so he expects me to always have front row seats. He asked me if I was going to this game and I replied, “What game? Oh. No. Hadn’t planned to.”

But then he said, “I’ve never been to an NFL game. I wonder if Tom Brady will play.”

So I bought the tickets.

Our last-minute tickets put us in the nosebleed section, and because my father’s legs give out on him every hundred yards or so my husband, Bill Breen, drove us down there, dropped us off, drove the 12 blocks home, parked the car and walked back. He’s a good husband.

I don’t think my dad could actually see what was going on way down there on the field but it didn’t really matter. The real action was happening a few rows up from us. As we approached halftime we heard screaming and tussling behind us and turned around to see a man falling down the concrete steps, people all around shouting and swearing and gesturing. He landed with a thud, his head hitting the metal handrail, then the concrete steps where he then laid unconscious for several minutes. The ruckus that ensued was worthy of the dozens of mobile phones filming and live streaming this drama to the known world. When he regained consciousness, too drunk to feel the pain from his broken ribs, he and his friends and foes were all carted off in handcuffs.

A few minutes later my dad and I left the stadium to walk to the corner where Bill was to pick us up. As we left we walked past the injured man, now sober enough to be doubled over in pain, sitting in a cart headed out of the stadium.

We waited for Bill on the corner along with several other people also waiting for their rides when the ambulance pulled out and into traffic. A man standing next to me was checking his phone, tracking his Uber and looked up as the ambulance sped by.

I said to him, “I know who’s in that ambulance,” and went on to tell him what had happened a few minutes before. He was incredulous and we had a good chat about how absurd drunk people are.

He told me he was nervous because his car was late and the driver wasn’t responding to him, so as Bill pulled up I offered to take him to the other side of downtown where it would be easier for him to get a ride. He took us up on it.

As we settled into the car I turned around to make introductions, “My name is Hannah, this is my dad, Jack, and my husband, Bill.”

He stuck his hand out to shake mine and he said, “Kevin Dyson.”

Kevin Dyson. The Music City Miracle.

The Music City Miracle

On January 8, 2000, the Tennessee Titans were in a wildcard playoff game for Super Bowl XXXIV with the Buffalo Bills. With only 16 seconds to go the Bills kicked a 41-yard field goal and the Titans trailed 15-16. It looked like it was over.

On the next play the Bill’s kick-off was caught by Lorenzo Neal. Neal handed off to tight end Frank Wycheck who was chased to the right side of the field by the Bills. This move broke the Bill’s lanes and made them unprepared for what happened next.

Kevin Dyson was on the other side of the field. He was actually the 4th man down the line in that position during that play. Derrick Mason, who would have been in that spot, was injured earlier in the game. His backup, Anthony Dorsett, was on the sidelines dealing with cramps. Isaac Byrd was put into the game as wide receiver and Kevin Dyson entered as a trailer. He was one of the team’s lead wide receivers so he rarely practiced with special teams and at this point he was not very familiar with this particular play. Coach Jeff Fisher called him over to the sidelines and gave him a quick heads up just before the snap.

Wycheck took the ball from Lorenzo Neal and threw a lateral to Kevin Dyson who was waiting on the other side of the field. Dyson catches the lateral pass and because the Bill’s were caught off guard, all except one of their defenders were out of position. Dyson ran 75 yards untouched through an open lane to score the game winning touchdown. The crowd went wild as the announcer screamed, “There are No! Flags! On the field! It’s a miracle! Tennessee has pulled a miracle!”

The play became known as The Music City Miracle.

The Titans went all the way to the Super Bowl that year where they lost by a yard when Dyson was stopped on the 1 yard line on a play that would have brought them even with the St. Louis Rams just as the buzzer sounded to end the game. But that’s not what we remember from the season. We remember the Music City Miracle.

Bill’s a jock, so he immediately knew who our guest was. I was a step behind but quickly put it together and I said to him, “You are sitting in our car. You’re gonna have to tell us about the play.”

We plied Kevin with questions for several minutes then I said, “Do you get tired of talking about it? I’m sure you’ve answered these questions thousands of times.”

Kevin Dyson, who is now a middle school principal in a community south of Nashville answered, “You know, I’m thankful for it. In the history of the NFL there’ve probably been a million players total, and only 1,500 of them are in the Hall Of Fame. I was sidelined by injury just five years later so my career didn’t last long enough for me to have a Hall Of Fame career. So it’s really nice to have something that keeps you relevant to the game.”

It’s easy to get disillusioned as the CEO of a company. Business ebbs and flows. Employees leave. Clients leave. Technology changes. In this era where every industry is constantly in turmoil the struggle to remain relevant is real.

After years as a CEO, sometimes you wonder what you add to the company. The client work is being done by the staff. The managing work is being handled by your directors. VPs run company meetings. Sometimes you feel like a wind-up doll, as you carry the agenda your company has developed through the community, not having done much of the detail work yourself.

But you are intrinsically important. What you add to the company is the stuff that only you can bring; inspiration, purpose, mentorship.

The role of the CEO includes only a few items, all of which are important. You are the face of the company to the world, you’re in charge of the company’s vision, direction and financial stability, and you nurture key relationships. But the single most important thing a CEO does is to grow and mentor the leadership team. To inspire them to be good leaders. To mentor them as they develop. It’s our gift to the world. It’s what keeps us relevant.

Growing a leadership team is both selfish and selfless. It makes your job easier. It expands your company, adds skills to the team and makes everyone more money. It takes a load of responsibility off of you and allows you to focus on the things only you can do. It gives you peace of mind.

It also gives young professionals the things they crave; inspiration, purpose, mentorship. When you embrace this as your top goal you see the truth of impact. You will accomplish more good in your company and in the world through other people than you ever would by yourself.

As I wrote about in my book Business Ownership: The Joy, The Pain, The Truth, building a leadership team isn’t all fun, it’s also full of loss. You give them responsibility and take your hands off of it. You give them authority and cede some of your own. You give them the latitude to move and with movement often comes mistakes. And eventually you lose the leaders you’ve poured so much time and love into.

But that is exactly what we are supposed to do. We are supposed to embrace them and train them and discipline them and reward them and then let them go...out into the world to repeat the process with leadership teams of their own.

And so your impact is worldwide as you send good leaders into the world. Leaders who will look back on their days with you and say “She taught me that.”

There’s nothing better than seeing someone you’ve known since their last college exam making their own impact in the world, quoting things you said to them, shining like a beacon in a world full of so many bad leaders.

If you wish the world were full of better leaders, be a better leader.

If you wish the world were full of better leaders, build better leaders.