“We had no idea what it would become,” Mr. Todras-Whitehill said. “But after our viral launch we suddenly didn’t have the 20,000 people we expected, but 200,000 expecting us to help them taking back the House. I knew that we would have to transform the organization into a professional one capable of delivering on that promise.”
“I remember sitting next to Jeff Bewkes, the CEO of Time Warner, at an internal Time Inc. event that was celebrating journalists. And he asked what I had done before Fortune, and I said, ‘Oh, I worked at Goldman.’ And he looked at me like, why would I leave that to do this? And I thought, Uh-oh, it’s over.”
Of course, nothing could rattle Bob Gibson. One comment, though, in particular worked on him: the words in a Boston paper announcing Dick Williams’s plans for the seventh game—“Lonborg and Champagne.” Watching Gibson studying those words, his teammate Joe Hoerner knew how much they would fortify Gibson’s resolve. It wasn’t that he needed any extra motivation to win his fifth consecutive World Series game, but that smug headline, combined with the perceived slight at breakfast, would bolster Gibson’s belief that he needed to prove to the world that he was capable of anything.
“It’s like I’m trying to find a problem and she is not creating it,” Mr. Dorn said. “I want her to be excited when I give her something, and really overjoyed. And when she doesn’t respond like that, I ask her, ‘Am I in trouble?’ And she says: ‘Why would you think that way? Why would you be in trouble?’”
“I didn’t hate it with a burning passion,” Mr. Schickel, 26, said of his white-collar days, which he left in November 2015. “I was good at my job. I did very well. But it didn’t really excite me. The question was, ‘When I die, do I want to have spent 50 years of my life sitting in an office?’ The answer was no.”