John, I shared your article with close friends who were athletes.
We were at a book promotion gathering last weekend of former college athletes. Sports have always been a huge part of our life.
One of my husband’s teammates, and our close friend, was one of the panel of speakers. He also is the only pro football player to have summited Mt. Everest. And the 7-summits.
My point: there is much discussion about how detrimental it is for the individual growth and connection of these young athletes in college who some are now being paid millions of dollars at 18 yo, can move through the portal to another university, on a whim for the dollars.
My husband’s football group (who played decades ago) have the unique human experience of strong friendships and connections that have become even more valuable with time.
They feel a page has been turned in college sports that may never be recaptured.
The growth of the individual due to a commitment to teammates.
Endurance as you gut it out to put out your best effort. Learning about yourself as you grow due to challenge. Self-esteem!
The loss that comes for young athletes from thinking being paid millions gives personal value and self-esteem that lasts beyond the limelight. Unfortunately, all too often it doesn’t.
Much of the interpersonal connection, working hard in every play so you don’t let down your teammates, building friendships that last a lifetime is disintegrating.
The kids may not know the quality of their experience is not the same, but former athletes and fans feel regret over dollars replacing value placed on longstanding commitment to overcome right where you are!
I’m on my soapbox over this. Complex topic.
(U of O Ducks are in my city)
Human value and connection is no longer the emphasis.
Wins and TV stats for commercialism success is the name of the game.
One of my closest friends played at Notre Dame during the 1988 National Championship season. A number of years ago, he started organizing a gathering for former teammates—a chance to reconnect, support one another, and strengthen the bonds they built decades earlier. In the beginning, only five or six players showed up. Today, more than seventy attend.
What strikes me is that they aren't coming back together because of wins, statistics, or accolades. They're coming back because of the relationships. They shared a common mission, sacrificed for one another, and learned what it meant to be part of something bigger than themselves. Those bonds have only become more valuable with time.
While college sports have certainly evolved in many positive ways, I do worry that some of the incentives in the current system may unintentionally weaken the very experiences that made athletics so transformative for previous generations. When the focus shifts too heavily toward individual opportunity, compensation, and personal branding, the commitment to the team becomes secondary.
To me, one of the greatest gifts of sports has never been the scoreboard. It's the character forged through shared struggle, the responsibility to your teammates, and the lifelong friendships that emerge from pursuing a common goal. Those experiences communicate something deeper than achievement—they create a lasting sense of belonging and significance.
Your comment is a powerful reminder that some of the most valuable outcomes of sports are the ones that never appear in the statistics.
John, thanks so much for sharing about your friend at Notre Dame. You totally get it! And good for him for spear-heading!
I’m frustrated when people (non-sports fans) don’t understand the connection and the growth young men receive from team athletics. It has tremendous human value.
What your friend experienced, is exactly what my husband’s group has experienced. The leaders rise up to organize, and reunion gatherings do build momentum. Lifelong respect and appreciation for each other spans the test of time. Admittedly, my husband’s group was a pretty wild and crazy bunch, some went on to pro, but never enjoyed it in the same way they did in college.
I find it particularly meaningful for athletic groups, (and men especially who don’t seem to do it as easily as women), to bond that way, (and as you say, not because of wins, statistics, or accolades), but because of a shared experience that helped to develop them, stretch them, into the successful men they became.
I’m just three months in on Substack, but really enjoy your thought-provoking articles.
Thank you… and thanks for taking the time to share your thoughts!
And we are Oregon State Univ., which clearly has had its share of challenges, but everybody knows, we have loyal fans and heart! (We were down at the Fiesta Bowl in Tempe, AZ when we played Notre Dame back in 2001.)
I still chuckle over the Notre Dame band, with many members who covered the field. That year, OSU didn’t have the funds for a big band. Our little band looked like a few ants on the field in comparison. However, we we had a great victory 41-9. (Sorry to your friend, but it was a great New Year’s celebration for us.)
Interesting insights — I had never thought about it this way before. I do agree that the opposite of mattering is not loneliness. For me, loneliness is the absence of like-minded people who understand me, share similar world views, and just feel familiar. For me to matter to others, I feel they need to get value from whatever I provide. However, for someone to matter to me, simply liking them is enough — because appreciating someone for who they are is, in itself, a form of value
What stands out to me is the distinction you're making between mattering to others and others mattering to us. We often assume mattering is transactional—that we matter because of what we contribute, provide, or accomplish. Yet some of the most meaningful relationships in our lives don't work that way at all.
As you point out, people can matter to us simply because of who they are. Their presence enriches our lives. We value them not for what they produce but for the unique person they are.
I think that's one reason so many people struggle today. Modern culture gives us constant signals about our performance, productivity, and usefulness, but far fewer signals that we are valued independent of those things. Over time, it's easy to confuse being useful with being significant.
Mattering is not only about being needed. It's also about being known, appreciated, and valued as a human being. And sometimes the greatest gift we can give another person is helping them feel exactly that.
John, I enjoyed reading your article. In my experience, the question of mattering is not so easy to determine. I supervised people for much of my professional life and I encounter comments related to how I was perceived to matter. I was often told that I had good people working for me and that made my job easier than other supervisors.
Except for other experienced supervisors, the reality of my being a good supervisor was overlooked. When I went on vacation and an alternate supervisor filled in for me, my worth was demonstrated. Coaching is another job where the cause and effect may not so evident.
A person seeking the status of "Mattering" is fine and dandy. However, mattering to oneself (knowing their worth and contribution) is as important as mattering to others.
Steve, I think you're touching on one of the central ideas I've been exploring while writing "The Mattering Effect."
Before we can consistently help others feel seen, valued, and significant, we have to develop a healthy sense of significance within ourselves. Otherwise, we end up depending on external recognition to tell us who we are, and that can become a never-ending pursuit.
At the same time, I don't believe mattering is entirely an internal exercise. Human beings are relational by nature. We learn who we are through our interactions with others, and much of our sense of significance is shaped by the communities, relationships, and teams we belong to.
What I've found is that the healthiest form of mattering emerges when those two realities reinforce one another. We recognize our own worth and contribution, while also experiencing the affirmation that comes from knowing our presence has positively impacted the lives of others.
In many ways, that's what the book is about: restoring the signal of mattering within ourselves first, so we can extend it outward and help create environments where others feel seen, valued, and significant as well.
John, I shared your article with close friends who were athletes.
We were at a book promotion gathering last weekend of former college athletes. Sports have always been a huge part of our life.
One of my husband’s teammates, and our close friend, was one of the panel of speakers. He also is the only pro football player to have summited Mt. Everest. And the 7-summits.
My point: there is much discussion about how detrimental it is for the individual growth and connection of these young athletes in college who some are now being paid millions of dollars at 18 yo, can move through the portal to another university, on a whim for the dollars.
My husband’s football group (who played decades ago) have the unique human experience of strong friendships and connections that have become even more valuable with time.
They feel a page has been turned in college sports that may never be recaptured.
The growth of the individual due to a commitment to teammates.
Endurance as you gut it out to put out your best effort. Learning about yourself as you grow due to challenge. Self-esteem!
The loss that comes for young athletes from thinking being paid millions gives personal value and self-esteem that lasts beyond the limelight. Unfortunately, all too often it doesn’t.
Much of the interpersonal connection, working hard in every play so you don’t let down your teammates, building friendships that last a lifetime is disintegrating.
The kids may not know the quality of their experience is not the same, but former athletes and fans feel regret over dollars replacing value placed on longstanding commitment to overcome right where you are!
I’m on my soapbox over this. Complex topic.
(U of O Ducks are in my city)
Human value and connection is no longer the emphasis.
Wins and TV stats for commercialism success is the name of the game.
Judy, your comment really resonates with me.
One of my closest friends played at Notre Dame during the 1988 National Championship season. A number of years ago, he started organizing a gathering for former teammates—a chance to reconnect, support one another, and strengthen the bonds they built decades earlier. In the beginning, only five or six players showed up. Today, more than seventy attend.
What strikes me is that they aren't coming back together because of wins, statistics, or accolades. They're coming back because of the relationships. They shared a common mission, sacrificed for one another, and learned what it meant to be part of something bigger than themselves. Those bonds have only become more valuable with time.
While college sports have certainly evolved in many positive ways, I do worry that some of the incentives in the current system may unintentionally weaken the very experiences that made athletics so transformative for previous generations. When the focus shifts too heavily toward individual opportunity, compensation, and personal branding, the commitment to the team becomes secondary.
To me, one of the greatest gifts of sports has never been the scoreboard. It's the character forged through shared struggle, the responsibility to your teammates, and the lifelong friendships that emerge from pursuing a common goal. Those experiences communicate something deeper than achievement—they create a lasting sense of belonging and significance.
Your comment is a powerful reminder that some of the most valuable outcomes of sports are the ones that never appear in the statistics.
John, thanks so much for sharing about your friend at Notre Dame. You totally get it! And good for him for spear-heading!
I’m frustrated when people (non-sports fans) don’t understand the connection and the growth young men receive from team athletics. It has tremendous human value.
What your friend experienced, is exactly what my husband’s group has experienced. The leaders rise up to organize, and reunion gatherings do build momentum. Lifelong respect and appreciation for each other spans the test of time. Admittedly, my husband’s group was a pretty wild and crazy bunch, some went on to pro, but never enjoyed it in the same way they did in college.
I find it particularly meaningful for athletic groups, (and men especially who don’t seem to do it as easily as women), to bond that way, (and as you say, not because of wins, statistics, or accolades), but because of a shared experience that helped to develop them, stretch them, into the successful men they became.
I’m just three months in on Substack, but really enjoy your thought-provoking articles.
Thank you… and thanks for taking the time to share your thoughts!
And we are Oregon State Univ., which clearly has had its share of challenges, but everybody knows, we have loyal fans and heart! (We were down at the Fiesta Bowl in Tempe, AZ when we played Notre Dame back in 2001.)
I still chuckle over the Notre Dame band, with many members who covered the field. That year, OSU didn’t have the funds for a big band. Our little band looked like a few ants on the field in comparison. However, we we had a great victory 41-9. (Sorry to your friend, but it was a great New Year’s celebration for us.)
Interesting insights — I had never thought about it this way before. I do agree that the opposite of mattering is not loneliness. For me, loneliness is the absence of like-minded people who understand me, share similar world views, and just feel familiar. For me to matter to others, I feel they need to get value from whatever I provide. However, for someone to matter to me, simply liking them is enough — because appreciating someone for who they are is, in itself, a form of value
Aura, I really appreciate this perspective.
What stands out to me is the distinction you're making between mattering to others and others mattering to us. We often assume mattering is transactional—that we matter because of what we contribute, provide, or accomplish. Yet some of the most meaningful relationships in our lives don't work that way at all.
As you point out, people can matter to us simply because of who they are. Their presence enriches our lives. We value them not for what they produce but for the unique person they are.
I think that's one reason so many people struggle today. Modern culture gives us constant signals about our performance, productivity, and usefulness, but far fewer signals that we are valued independent of those things. Over time, it's easy to confuse being useful with being significant.
Mattering is not only about being needed. It's also about being known, appreciated, and valued as a human being. And sometimes the greatest gift we can give another person is helping them feel exactly that.
John, I enjoyed reading your article. In my experience, the question of mattering is not so easy to determine. I supervised people for much of my professional life and I encounter comments related to how I was perceived to matter. I was often told that I had good people working for me and that made my job easier than other supervisors.
Except for other experienced supervisors, the reality of my being a good supervisor was overlooked. When I went on vacation and an alternate supervisor filled in for me, my worth was demonstrated. Coaching is another job where the cause and effect may not so evident.
A person seeking the status of "Mattering" is fine and dandy. However, mattering to oneself (knowing their worth and contribution) is as important as mattering to others.
Steve, I think you're touching on one of the central ideas I've been exploring while writing "The Mattering Effect."
Before we can consistently help others feel seen, valued, and significant, we have to develop a healthy sense of significance within ourselves. Otherwise, we end up depending on external recognition to tell us who we are, and that can become a never-ending pursuit.
At the same time, I don't believe mattering is entirely an internal exercise. Human beings are relational by nature. We learn who we are through our interactions with others, and much of our sense of significance is shaped by the communities, relationships, and teams we belong to.
What I've found is that the healthiest form of mattering emerges when those two realities reinforce one another. We recognize our own worth and contribution, while also experiencing the affirmation that comes from knowing our presence has positively impacted the lives of others.
In many ways, that's what the book is about: restoring the signal of mattering within ourselves first, so we can extend it outward and help create environments where others feel seen, valued, and significant as well.
John, It may be as simple as respecting yourself, having empathy for others and being polite. Anyway, that may be the foundation of mattering.