#9: Life beyond the Immaculate Reception.
#9: Life beyond the Immaculate Reception.
What we can learn from a Hall-of-Fame football veteran about leaving a legacy greater than our accomplishments.
The achievement of all achievements, and yet…
"He was the role model.”
“He's the standard where we all talked about what it is to be a Pittsburgh Steeler. Not only that, he's the standard of what it is to be a human being.”
“The stuff that he did around here in the community, not only just around here, but just everywhere, he tried to give back as much as he can."
- Najee Harris, Pittsburgh Steelers running back, on the life of Franco Harris.1
Yes, this is a newsletter about loss, not sports, but stick with me here!
The American football community was abuzz during the Christmas holiday about the untimely death of a great man. Franco Harris was a Pittsburgh Steeler known for an illustrious career on the field… but an even greater impact off it.
Harris’s mythology includes the most famous football play of all time. Coined the “Immaculate Reception”, his mind-boggling deflected catch could only be called a miracle.
It not only changed the outcome of the game (winning touchdown in the last 22 seconds!) but kicked off a Steelers' dynasty in which they earned four Super Bowl trophies in six years.
(You can read more about Franco Harris from fellow Substacker Jay Mariotti here.)
The 50th anniversary celebration of the Immaculate Reception was televised on Christmas Eve. Harris was meant to be standing proudly on stage and reliving his most famous football moment. But when he unexpectedly died just two days before, the event pivoted from celebrating his superhuman play to celebrating the mortal man…
Who turns out to have outshined his celebrated catch with all the ways he:
treated his teammates and fans alike with genuine kindness.
gave back to the city and community of Pittsburgh.
“did it with such grace and class and patience and time for people,” (according to Mike Tomlin, the Steelers’s current head coach).2
The Immaculate Reception — the breath-taking achievement that made Harris famous — took a backseat to the everyday moments when he graciously carried, bestowed, and put aside his fame for the greater good.
When our achievements fall by the wayside…
As all the praise for Franco flooded in, I was reminded of the outpouring of letters, emails, and cards I received after Mike died, many of which shared their version of how amazing he was. Of course I knew his amazing-ness as a husband, father, friend, and family member. But there were other parts of his life that were opaque to me… Especially related to his work, for which he flew around the country and slept in hotels most days of the week.
One of the most memorable notes I received was from Shabana, Mike’s coworker. She shared:
"Although I haven't worked with [Mike] for the last year or so, every time I saw him in the office he always made time to talk about my career and my professional development. He was a huge supporter and an informal mentor.
“Over the past week, I have been surprised to learn that I'm not alone in this sentiment — that Mike was a coach to many of us. Despite all that he had going on, he made time for so many people. His loss is huge, but I am so happy and consider myself lucky that I got a chance to know him."
Here’s what Shabana did NOT say (even though these were all true):
“I was in awe of how he closed that $20M deal.”
“He made the most beautiful PowerPoints.”
“He could work a spreadsheet like no one I ever saw.”
When we lose people we care about, their disappearance creates a space in their shape… a space that helps us realize their true impact.
It’s like the outer trappings of the person fall away — the parts of them that were impressive, enviable even, but superficial — similar to the layers of a Russian nesting doll.
We forget their achievements and accomplishments because they pale in comparison to their core, their humanity, their heart — the part of them that we will never stop missing.
The part that made the world a better place.
Even when those achievements were miracles as great as the Immaculate Reception. Or closing $20M deals.
The Eulogy Challenge.
In our rituals around death, both obituaries and eulogies have their place.
Obituaries are necessarily short. They are bite-sized biographies, life highlights — the “Immaculate Reception” version of our lives.
Eulogies serve an entirely different purpose. Rather than what we did, they are about how we lived.
They are about the inner-most nesting doll.
Here is where the Eulogy Challenge comes in.
(Yep, I am asking for another exercise. At The Luminist we’re about action… And results!)
If your best friend, your spouse, your children, your parents were preparing your eulogy, what would you want them to say?
Here’s a photo of my list:
Some of these I have achieved. Some I’m actively making progress on.
Some are purely aspirational.
None involve specific career milestones or bucket-list items.
Rather, they focus on:
my success at making people feel seen, heard, and appreciated — just like Mike.
using my presence to inspire and support my children, my family, my friends, even my colleagues, in big and small ways.
the impact of The Luminist on the lives of strangers around the world through conversations about grief, loss, and living more vibrant lives.
Your turn.
Find a quiet five minutes today. (Even three will do!) Make your list. Keep it somewhere you can reflect on it — cross items off, add items. Talk to those you love most about it.
This would be an easy exercise to blow off. You could just read this post (which I deeply appreciate!) and skip this part. I sure hope you don’t.
Don’t let complacency convince you procrastination is okay.
Also don’t let fear chase you away.
Writing our ideas clarifies our thinking, starts conversations, and changes our actions. You could have this all in minutes of fat-finger typing on your iPhone or pencil scratching on the back of a receipt!
As a business woman, I can tell you that’s an ROI I wouldn’t pass up.
The smallest actions with the biggest impacts.
For Franco Harris, it was genuine interest and unconditional support that cost him very little, if anything, while meaning so much to the players and fans around him.
Players and fans who then looked up to him, emulated him, passed along his generosity until the culture of the entire Steelers Nation became more cohesive, more supportive, more successful.3
That’s legacy.
An impact on things beyond the material realm, on communities and connections and feelings of fulfillment.
This is your final nudge to brainstorm your eulogy. Come up with two or three points, ideas, inklings.
Then — for the over-achievers on the subscriber list — pick an item from your eulogy. One you have not accomplished… yet.
Write a few sentences on how you might get there. Small changes you can make that will ripple far and wide.
Imagine yourself making an impact greater than you could with any superficial success… because it does not end with you.
You are only the beginning.
To your legacy,
Sue
Keep reading with these related articles from The Luminist:
Great edition! Enjoyed the connection with Franco. Makes a lot of sense. You are going to have to add new stuff to your eulogy as you are far along in completing your list!