It’s About the Work

To me, the greatest running back of all time will always be Barry Sanders.

You can make your case for somebody else. I understand the arguments. But Barry could turn a broken play into something you had to watch three times to understand. One defender, two defenders, sometimes half the defense could have him surrounded, and somehow he would find daylight.

Still, what made him my favorite was what happened after the play.

He would score, hand the ball to the official, and get on with it. That became his signature. A player capable of doing something extraordinary could make the moment afterward look completely ordinary.

There was something powerful about that.

He spent his entire ten-season NFL career with the Detroit Lions. To me, he embodied the blue-collar grit I associate with that city: bring your ability, take pride in your craft, and show up ready to work. His approach always left me with the same impression: the work mattered enough on its own.

That is how I believe we should approach public service.

You play for the name on the front, not the name on the back.

There are people depending on what we do who will never know our names. They may never understand the hours behind a decision, the difficult conversation that protected their interests, or the problem someone caught before it interrupted a service they rely on.

They should still receive our best.

In procurement, that might mean working through a complicated agreement until the organization’s interests are protected. It might mean asking an uncomfortable question when everyone else is ready to move forward. Across public service, it is the employee who follows through, the colleague who takes ownership, and the person willing to address a problem because leaving it unresolved would let someone down.

Much of that work happens quietly. It requires patience, judgment, and a willingness to do things thoroughly when taking a shortcut would be easier.

That is where professional pride lives.

I think about the people who taught me what it means to work. You could count on them. They came prepared, understood their responsibilities, and cared about how the job turned out. If their name was attached to something, they wanted it done right.

There is dignity in being that person.

Recognition feels good, and people deserve credit for meaningful contributions. But the responsibility comes before the recognition. We cannot make our effort conditional on whether someone is watching or whether an assignment will help us stand out.

Some days, doing the job well means sharing the credit. Other days, it means accepting responsibility, delivering unwelcome news, or staying with a difficult issue long after the excitement of starting has passed.

The practical challenge is simple: give the overlooked work the same care you give the visible work. Close the loop. Keep the commitment. Bring the same preparation to the routine meeting that you would bring to the presentation in front of the board.

Over time, people learn what they can expect from you. Your consistency becomes evidence. Your judgment earns trust. Your work gives people a reason to believe in you before you ever explain why they should.

Barry Sanders will always be my favorite running back because of what his example represents to me: extraordinary ability paired with the humility to keep doing the job.

That is a standard worth carrying into our own work every day.