High-Fiving Steve Carell and Learning from His Graduation Speech

 

If someone told me my graduation would include Steve Carell, a dance party, the United Center, and a moment I’ll remember for years, I wouldn’t have believed them. And yet, that’s exactly what happened.




There’s something about subverting expectations and breaking the norm, catching us off-guard. That’s exactly what happened when Steve Carell, our graduation speaker at Northwestern this year, had us rise up and stand for a tradition at Northwestern.

That tradition, we would find, was not a tradition at all. However, it became a memorable experience for years to come.

In the middle of the speech, we soon learned that this tradition was the "mid-commencement address dance break". (I would note that if it does become a tradition, that would be delightful)




With his announcement, music turned on, and he started to dance on stage. This was first met with reluctance from others, but as he danced with the faculty and then burst into the crowd, high-fiving the graduates one by one, the energy grew.

Myself, standing only a few rows back, at 7 feet tall and having forgotten my graduation cap, I jumped up and down and brought energy as he passed by the front row. I saw him look in my direction, hoping he might head my way at some point—however unlikely that would be.

He cheerfully gave high-fives to my classmates while running down the center aisle.

Then, he started running back in the direction of the stage.

But before he would turn back, he peered over the crowd, making eye-contact with me.

Having ceased giving high-fives for a moment and running, he ran towards the outside of the crowd of students, then turning the corner like a football player on a route—running down the sideline in my direction. He gave a grin, reached out his hand my way, and we high-fived emphatically.




As I high-fived him, he paused for a split second with a mischievous look, then spun around and dashed back toward the stage—pouncing forward like a modern-day jester, a touch of Jack Sparrow in his stride—as he wrapped up his mid-commencement dance break.




And just like the punchline of a good joke, at times when we feel all too able to predict every next moment, because of the routines of life, there’s magic when things get shaken up in a positive and lighthearted way.

Steve turned his graduation speech into something alive. One moment he had twenty thousand of us standing on command for a “Northwestern tradition” none of us had heard of. The next, he let the joke hang until the entire arena realized there was no tradition at all.

His punchlines kept landing before we could catch our breath. He nudged us with advice, then undercut himself with, “This morning I have given you quite a bit to think about. At the same time I have said almost nothing of value.”




Then came a parable of kindness, showing just how off-guard the audience was. He began:

“In the early 1800s, an Illinois farmer named Ezekiel Davis lent his milking cow to his neighbor Jedediah Ashcroft so Jedediah’s family could have milk to drink.”

He paused before adding:

“Unfortunately, this was before pasteurization. The family fell ill and died. This is a terribly sad story.”

Moments later, he let us know that not only did they not die of disease—he had made the entire story up.

Whenever we felt like we had figured the speech out, we hadn’t. He subverted expectations so much, even when you thought you were safe to clap. He initially said the message of his speech was kindness—then immediately interjected with:

“So shut up and listen,” in a joking, ironic way.

With deadpan irony throughout his remarks, he made the stadium laugh so frequently that even when there were moments made for claps and silence—typical markers of approval—he would wisely interject, leading to abrupt, unrestrained laughter and making it impolite to clap for what he had stated in the first place. If the unusual nature of his graduation speech wasn’t impressed upon the audience within moments of him taking the podium, the mid-commencement dance break sealed the deal.

If I tried to summarize his speech and tell you what to take away from it, I’d be doing him a disservice. He walked in, he didn’t take himself too seriously, he spoke his truth, kept us off-guard, had fun, and left us inspired.

Everyone in that arena may have taken away different messages from that day. But I’m sure the power of moments of kindness, alongside the power of playfulness and joy to bring people together is at the top of the list.




In that spirit, Steve said:

“Sometimes, just dance.”




How wonderful is it that we have the ability to bring a little magic to others’ lives, if only we acknowledge the agency we have to lightheartedly engage with others to bring out the best in all of us.




Steve's willingness to drop any self-consciousness and take lighthearted, playful action is something I want to embody moving forward.




How might we all find ways to bring playfulness, joy, spontaneity, and kindness to the world?




How might the world look differently if we could embody the spirit Steve Carell did in his graduation speech a little more often?

What do you want to do that you haven’t done yet?

What do you want to do that you haven’t done yet?

Recently, Eli Kronenberg, Sports Editor of The Daily Northwestern reached out to me regarding possibly writing an article about my experience playing pro basketball in Peru after playing at Northwestern last year. When in contact, I mentioned that I love writing, and that I would love to contribute to the school newspaper in some way.

I had wanted to contribute to the school newspaper during college, but I hadn’t gotten around doing it, despite having plenty of time playing college basketball and studying across the country, completing 3 degrees and living in California, New York, and Chicago.

I didn’t know whether it was possible to write in the school newspaper after having graduated and moved on to pro hoops.

But the next day, he shared the idea of me being a guest contributor to The Daily Northwestern’s Men’s Basketball Season Preview roundtable article. I wrote my thoughts about the team, and the next day I was blessed with the opportunity to be published in The Daily Northwestern alongside their other experienced columnists.




What do you want to do that you haven’t done yet?

What are you waiting for?




Sometimes dialogue with others about your desires is a good way to make these possibilities come true.



And since I contributed to the column, Northwestern Basketball is 4-0.



Coincidence? Maybe, maybe not.

Go ‘Cats!

What a 4,000 Mile Professional Basketball Journey Has Taught Me (Thus Far) About Reinvention, Language and Change

I moved 4,000 miles away to play professional basketball. As a new resident in Lima, Peru, this move is the culmination of a goal I had not reached before. I am incredibly thankful and excited about this opportunity. It is also a powerful homecoming: I am Peruvian-American, and my mother played both basketball and volleyball for the Peruvian national team. And both my mom and dad played for the club I am playing for now: Regatas Lima!

Not that leaving home is entirely new to me, as I have lived in Kansas, New Hampshire, New York, Chicago, and now Lima in the past decade. But with it, every new move comes with its own challenges and opportunities. I have been blessed to have the opportunity to do so.

It’s not exactly easy to simply drop everything and move without the help of others, including the support of my family and the assistance of those with open arms at each destination I have gone to. While I have traveled internationally for basketball competition and for leisure in the past, playing basketball professionally is something I had not done to this point.

This new life in a league where Spanish is the default language has, by necessity, become an opportunity to challenge myself in not just basketball, but also Spanish. It is the environment of playing pro basketball for Regatas that has created a powerful opportunity for basketball, personal and linguistic growth.

The Limits of Language as Thought

Every single day, I wake up at Regatas, and during and in-between training, I try to speak in Spanish as much as I can. And every single day, there are phrases and grammar which I do not know.

One time, I forgot how to say “today,” so I said “el dia que es hoy” (the day that is today). When I then heard a person saying “hoy,” I recognized the word from a memory of a Spanish class in elementary school.

(Side note: Every time you forget and recall, your memory gets stronger—which gives me confidence to keep going!)

While I sometimes have lapses in memory, as my Spanish is tested more than ever, I also encounter new words I learn on the fly. For example, I learned that “avena” is a word for oatmeal from my teammate Gonzalo today! When communicating, I oftentimes use the words I already know to create the sentence I am thinking of, creating the meaning of words I do not yet know in Spanish.

But here is the thing: unless I pull out a dictionary or translation on the internet, I can only draw on words I already know. Words I do not yet know, which have meanings I do not yet appreciate, are unable to help me color my world and express meaning to others. And if I do not understand a word, I can infer its meaning via context clues, or at least whittle down what I expect the meaning to be. And the friction required to learn something, which is forfeited when simply looking up every sentence with Google Translate or Chat GPT, kills the learning process. So these tools have clear benefits for immediate information, but real limitations when we become too dependent. It is harder to remember a word you have only recited from your phone, rather than worked with more deeply.

My firsthand experience working to learn and improve my Spanish has strengthened my belief in the value of expanding one’s repository of words. Learning new words fuels exponential growth in your ability to express yourself. Since each new word can combine with all the others, it exponentially increases the possibilities of expression. You can see this firsthand more readily when you are a beginner in a language, with fewer words to draw from, rather than speaking in a language you have used your entire life. Learning the words "la playa" in a beginner Spanish class dramatically expands what you are talk about--especially when you only know a few words.



The beauty of language is its ability to share both the world as we know it, and the worlds we imagine for ourselves and the future. Speaking allows for the painting of scenes which others can envision, creating mutual understanding. And mutual understanding is at the essence of leadership, which depends upon creating a shared vision.

But here’s the catch: How we describe the world, and imagine future worlds, is directly limited by the extent of our language. When we have less words to use, we can say less, and understand less about what others are saying. If speaking with others is painting a canvas, a limited vocabulary is like having fewer paint tubes to use.

Words are essential to mental organization and the formation of mental groupings, or “schemas.” Schemas are themes/groups which allow for easier communication. When you say “basketball gym”, I envision other related things, such as a hoop, a court, and some people shooting hoops (without having to describe those things). This schema makes it easy for me and you to understand what we are talking about. While my schema and your schema can differ, I can clarify that I am envisioning a certain type of basketball court (i.e. an old one with cracked wood flooring) to allow you to better envision what I am talking about. And if you don’t understand, you can ask a question, and I can explain. Schemas make it easier for us to understand each other with less effort, but require prior knowledge from all parties in a conversation.



Consistency: The Engine of Self-Reinvention

The challenge of being in a new environment is that it often forces you to update these schemas. Consider the schema for a birthday party—it includes birthday cake, a festive attitude, and candles. If you attended a birthday party including a piñata being broken and had not had this happen at a birthday party you attended previously, you would experience a level of dissonance (a contrast between expectations and reality). The contradiction would be the following: I didn’t expect a piñata at a birthday party, but this one did.

Dealing with this is a process requires change. You can either dismiss the thought, by developing a new thought that counters it: that was an anomaly. Or you can update your beliefs: birthday parties can have piñatas. Or you can do a combination of the two: they can have piñatas, but I think that they are only piñatas at some parties.

The same situation can lead to very different reactions for different people.

We can reinforce irrational or rational beliefs, which is why contradictory information isn’t always effective at changing people’s minds. In fact, if you tell someone something contradictory to their beliefs, and they defend their existing belief, they might even create more supporting beliefs in the process of responding to you.

This process of constant re-evaluation and adaptation connects to a fundamental human drive: we want our thoughts, words, and actions to align. If I say that I am a professional painter, but never paint, then I am not being consistent between my thoughts and actions. This is rooted in self-consistency theory. When our actions and beliefs do not align, we feel discomfort which motivates us to change our beliefs, or our actions. This restores our feeling of consistency between our words, actions, and thoughts/self-image. Most of the time, we are compelled to continue with our current thoughts and actions when they do not cause mental friction or trouble.

However, this consistency drive can be a powerful force for the negative if we are in an unproductive environment; For instance, one where people see us as things we no longer want to be—if our identity is tied to outdated habits or beliefs. The opportunity to leave a situation in which you weren’t seen for who you know you can be is oftentimes the most powerful force to propel someone forward.

The beauty of a new situation is that you are not around people who know your former self, and you are not in the environment in which certain habits may have become reinforced. This allows you to be seen for where you are at in the moment. New beginnings are great opportunities to set trajectories. It is also about a new environment, where you can be challenged and become a better version of yourself, by being somewhere where you can be seen for where you are at now, not for where you were long before. You can begin a new path with new habits, and people who don’t know who you were 5 years ago, will see you for who you are now. This is helpful, as we are always developing, growing and changing as individuals.

An outdated model of oneself, or an outdated model of others, does not help us be the best we can be, for ourselves and for others.

This move to Peru, to play basketball for Regatas, has been an incredible opportunity that I am so thankful for. And while I have been here, it has made me reflect a lot about my past, where I am at, and my future. And it has allowed me to become a beginner in some things, which is a blessing in itself. Being somewhere new where I can learn, challenge my expectations, and be outside my comfort zone is an incredible opportunity. And this is all the while feeling supported, uplifted and appreciated by my family, teammates, coaches and the Regatas community.

I would love to learn from your experiences as you read this, so feel free to DM me on LinkedIn with comments, thoughts, etc., or to comment directly to this article.

I’ll leave with this:

What environments are keeping you from stepping into the person you know you can be?

How can you make public commitments, communicated to people you trust, to become the person you desire to become, by leverage the social pressure and uplifting that comes from caring accountability and our desire to be consistent between our words and actions?

And how can you find ways to expand your language, which will further improve your ability to express your internal world and understand the world as others see it?

Why you still say yes — even when the offer gets worse The 10-Minute MBA for College Athletes | Post #1

Why you still say yes — even when the offer gets worse! (The 10-Minute MBA for College Athletes, Episode 1)



You’d be surprised how often a player says yes to an offer that just got worse. In college sports, that’s not rare — it's all too common.

This is the first installment of my LinkedIn series: The 10-Minute MBA for College Athletes — a breakdown of the business, psychology, and decision-making that drives college athletics today.

As a current college basketball player with an MBA, and someone who’s studied at Stanford, Stony Brook, and now Northwestern, I’ve seen firsthand how these forces play out across levels.

Whether you’re a player, a parent, or someone helping guide an athlete through the process, the goal is to help you think more clearly, protect your leverage, and navigate the system like a pro.

This should take about 10 minutes to read — and it could change how you handle your next big decision.




This isn’t just basketball

While this example focuses on men’s college basketball, the dynamics apply across sports.

Whether it’s volleyball, softball, football, baseball, or track — athletes face similar pressures around offers, visits, and being told they’re a “priority.”

The dollar amounts might be different. The timelines may vary. But the pattern is the same:

A strong early pitch builds belief. Then the terms shift — often after the athlete has already said yes in their head.

This post is about helping athletes — in any sport — recognize that pattern, and protect their leverage.






Let’s say you’re James

James is a 20-year-old in the transfer portal. He’s had Zoom calls with four different schools. His mom and dad have joined him on a few. One program — let’s call it Blank University — stands out.

They offer him a full scholarship, a clear opportunity to contribute, and a $40,000 NIL package — which is significantly more than what other schools have offered.

Side note: For those unfamiliar with NIL, this acronym stands for “Name, Image, and Likeness”, it commonly refers to student-athletes’ right to make money in sponsorship deals/business opportunities, which became permissible for the first time in July 2021.

The pitch is polished, and the staff makes it clear: “You’re our top priority.”

It might be the dollar amount that grabs him. Or it might be something else: the way they describe his role in the offense, the opportunity to start, or the vision they lay out for his development. Some of that might hold up. Some of it might not. But in the moment, it all sounds great — and it starts to shift how James sees the school.

James starts leaning in. He watches their games. He tells his friends they’re the frontrunner. He imagines himself in their jersey. He posts about the school and their interest in him.

Then he takes his official visit — and everything seems to click.

The players are welcoming. The coaches are attentive. The team dinner is high-end, the energy is positive, and the locker room feels right. The campus is nicer than he expected. It’s close enough to home for his family to visit. The training staff seems sharp. The food is solid. And the system fits his game.

A big part of why James is noticing and appreciating all of these things is because of that strong initial offer — especially compared to what he’s seen elsewhere.

That number didn’t necessarily push him over the hump to visit -- but it was a factor. It made the school feel more serious, more competitive, and possibly more worth investing in.

Once James got excited, his brain did what all of ours do: it started searching for more reasons to justify that excitement.

“The coaches are great.” “The campus is really nice.” “The system fits me.”

These beliefs might be true — but they didn’t appear randomly. They were shaped by the strong starting point, and for some student-athletes, they may not have even been on campus to discover these reasons, unless the strong initial offer was made.

Psychologically, this is what’s called motivated reasoning — we generate support for decisions we want to make.

And once James wanted this to be the right school? His mind started building a case for why it was.

And confirmation bias kicks in. We focus more on the evidence that supports what we want to believe — and tune out what doesn’t. So every good meal, every positive conversation, every glimpse of the weight room feels like proof.

What changed

And here’s what makes this so important to understand:

If the NIL number had been relatively minimal upfront, James might not have done any of what came next. He has options of schools to choose from, and they all have different value propositions and financial offers for his NIL.

He may have never told his friends. Never booked the visit. Never imagined himself there.

But the high offer opened the door — and once it did, everything else started to fall into place.

By this point, James is fully bought in — emotionally, socially, and psychologically.

He’s already told friends the school is his frontrunner. He’s posted about their interest. He flew across the country for the official visit. He did a full photo shoot in the team’s uniform — and shared it on social media. He’s imagined himself in that jersey. He had a steak dinner with the coaching staff. He met the players, saw the facilities, and felt the energy. He’s built a list of reasons in his head that this school makes sense — and the belief is now rooted.

All of those small decisions add up to something powerful: James doesn’t just like the school — he’s begun to identify with it.

And that’s exactly when the offer changes.

Later in the visit, the NIL number drops — from $40,000 to $20,000.

The staff still wants him. They still say he’s a priority. But the contractual side of the pitch — the money — gets cut back significantly.

James pauses. But he doesn’t walk away.






Why He Stays

Because by this point, it’s not just about the numbers anymore — it’s about psychology.

First, we have a natural desire to stay consistent with our past statements and behavior. During the visit, James did a full photo shoot in the uniform — and posted it on social media. That wasn’t just for fun. That was a public, visual commitment — and one that told everyone watching: “I see myself here.”

He had already told friends the school was a frontrunner, shared their interest online, and made the trip in person. Once you’ve done all that, it’s not easy to shift course — even when something changes.

Second, when James received that strong initial offer, he started thinking about everything positive: the program’s history, the coaching staff, the fit, the system, the location. He built up a case in his head for why this school made sense. And when the NIL number dropped, all of those reasons were still sitting in his mind.

By the time the offer changed, James wasn’t just reacting to numbers — He was protecting a decision he had already started to make.








Why schools downgrade offers

This pattern isn’t unique to recruiting — it shows up in other negotiations, too.

They start with a strong price, let you imagine yourself behind the wheel or in that new house, maybe even talk to your friends about it. Then, when the final paperwork shows unexpected fees or a higher total — most buyers don’t walk away.

Why? Because they’ve already bought in emotionally.

In recruiting, it works the same way — not because coaches are designing psychological tactics, but because they’ve done this hundreds of times.

They get tons of reps. They watch how players respond. They learn what works.

And most importantly: Players usually don’t know how much money schools actually have to offer. Budgets are vague. Donors shift from year to year. There’s no public database yet. Everything is purely based on word of mouth at the moment.

That lack of transparency makes it incredibly difficult to negotiate — because you don’t know what’s possible, what’s typical, or what’s fair.

So why do offers sometimes change?

Budgets shift — another player commits, and the NIL pool changes
Strategic adjustments — the staff senses you’re already leaning in and they may not believe you need as much of a financial incentive
Non-binding early numbers — initial figures were more pitch than a contract
Perceived leverage — they believe your alternatives aren’t as strong, so they can offer you less as a result



These situations are not necessarily a sign of bad intentions. There are valid reasons a program might change an offer — budget constraints to roster changes. Returning players oftentimes negotiate their NIL for the following season, which directly reduces the money the school has to offer other players. Coaches are navigating a very complex space, where things change every day.

And to be clear: I’m not suggesting that most schools are intentionally overselling NIL packages.

However, coaches are absolutely pressured to compete.

And in today’s market, where transparency is limited, big numbers are easy to promise and hard to verify.

The reality is, many recruits today will walk away immediately if the financials don't feel strong. So some coaches may feel that they have to come in high to stay in the race — and figure out the rest later.

The bottom line is this: The terms changed. But your value didn’t.

What you can command for that value, though--that can shift.

It depends on timing, what teams need on their roster, who is also available in the portal, and the resources a program has.

You don’t have to accept less — even if you feel pulled to stay consistent with a decision you almost already made.






The power imbalance

Here’s why this happens so often:

Coaches recruit year-round. They do this every year, with dozens of players. They’ve learned what works.
Players don’t. Most will only navigate this type of decision once or twice.
Parents and families care deeply — but many are doing this for the first time too. They may not have a network or resources around them to identify whether the programs in play are legitimate or trustworthy.



That experience gap creates a very real imbalance — especially when emotion and urgency are involved, not to mention the financial piece.

Enter: BATNA

In business, there’s a term called BATNA — your Best Alternative to a Negotiated Agreement.




It means: What’s your best backup plan if this offer falls through?

In recruiting, your BATNA might be:

Another school ready to commit
Returning to your current team
Staying in the portal and waiting it out



If your BATNA is strong, you have leverage. If it’s weak — or unclear — you’re more likely to accept less than you should.

Never enter a decision without knowing your BATNA. And be prepared to walk away if the terms no longer reflect your value.



How to protect yourself like a pro



Here are a few ways to avoid the trap James walked into:

Ask directly: Is this offer final, or could it change after the visit?
Don’t mentally commit too early: Let belief build after the details are confirmed.
Recognize the hype for what it is — a sales pitch. It’s designed to generate emotion, not guarantee outcomes.
Know your BATNA: Always.
Final gut check: If this had been the original offer… would I still say yes?








Final thought

Recruiting is part athletics, part business, and part psychology.

Understanding that doesn’t make you cynical — it makes you prepared.

You’re not just choosing a school. You’re negotiating your future.

Learn the game, so the game doesn’t play you.



This goes beyond college athletics

Whether you’re a student-athlete, a parent, a coach, or a young professional entering a new space — the principles are the same.

Early promises create momentum. Emotional commitment shapes decisions. And when terms change, you need to find space, so you can have clarity and confidence to reassess.

If you’re navigating pressure, negotiation, or fast-moving decisions — this applies to you too.

Because in sports or in life — your value doesn’t go down just because someone lowers their offer.

This is just the beginning of the 10-Minute MBA for College Athletes — but the lessons go far beyond the game.






Have you ever faced a situation where an offer changed after you got emotionally invested — in sports, school, or even work? What helped you stay grounded? I’d love to hear how you navigated it — whether as an athlete, parent, or professional.

What do you think of when you envision someone who is locked in?

What do you think of when you envision someone who is locked in?

Is it a look on their face?
Is it their body language—do they have a powerful stance, with their head up and their shoulders back?
Can you tell they are locked in by something they say— “We’ve got this!” “Come on, let’s go!”

Is it something else?

If you visited Welsh-Ryan Arena this past season, you may have watched me play.

At Northwestern, I’ve become known for playing with a ton of energy and passion—diving on the floor, getting loud, bringing fire to the game whenever I play.

But here is the irony.

Behind all that visible intensity, and my enthusiasm and love for the game, I’m usually calm.

That’s right, calm.

Focused.
Yes, I’m excited—I love playing the game—but I have learned how to regulate my body, and my emotions, with breathing and visualization.

This steadiness helps me to stay focused and grounded, even when the game gets chaotic.

Because what I have learned on the court is that effort alone isn’t enough.

Performance oftentimes lies in a careful dance between physical exertion and mental clarity.

I pride myself on working as hard as I possibly can. Outworking is necessary for success in a competitive game.

But the reality is that the act of “giving your all” on the court is nuanced. Sometimes, full-out, instantaneous physical effort is needed, like when diving on a loose ball. Other times, a combination of physical execution and mental clarity are needed, like when reading help defense, or defending a ball-screen.

The effort is still there in both, but it looks different. It is thoughtful. It flows.

If you’ve watched me play, you might assume my mind is oftentimes racing, because I love playing with a lot of energy. But what you might miss, even as a careful observer, is the calm underneath—the calm which I, as well as other competitors, oftentimes work to cultivate while playing the game.

In sports, it is especially hard to recognize calmness, because there is constant movement. From the outside, the game could easily be interpreted as a constantly intense and fast realm, broken only by timeouts.
But internally, the best players oftentimes find a sense of stillness amid the chaos.

I’m still learning every day, but I’ve found that the more I can embrace that calm beneath the chaos, the more fully I can show up for my team, the game, and myself.

So, what do you think of when you envision someone who is locked in?