If talent and effort were all it took to win, every team would be successful. But they’re not. That’s because there’s another part of the equation, one that many people overlook. And that’s culture.
Team culture is what elevates a good team to great. It’s what helps an underdog team beat one that looks better on paper. It’s what carries a group through the inevitable highs and lows of a long season. It doesn’t guarantee results, but it absolutely contributes to them.
And in my experience—living it, studying it, watching it—the biggest thing that blocks great culture is this: getting too caught up in the externalities.
The externalities are everything outside of the team. What other people think of you—family, friends, fans, strangers. What the media says, the headlines, the commentary, and the opinions you cannot control. What your stats look like—numbers without the context of the work behind them. The judgments and narratives created by people who aren’t in the locker room and don’t know the full story.
Externalities are dangerous because they steal presence and focus. And when you lose focus on what matters most, you hurt your team’s culture, your own impact, and your entire experience.
What matters most is in the locker room.
Great team culture is built by championship teammates. Players who love the team more than they love their role. People who commit to the process. Players who buy in—not for applause, but for the mission. People who maximize their impact in whatever role they are needed to push the team towards its most productive self.
Everyone is capable of being a championship teammate. It has nothing to do with talent, playing time, or seniority. It’s a choice. A choice to be present. A choice to buy in—even if your role looks different than you once imagined. A choice to push the standard, whether you play 90 minutes or 10. A choice to show up fully—not just when the spotlight is on you, but especially when it isn’t.
Championship teammates focus on what’s in the locker room. And so do championship teams.
And when everyone in the locker room chooses to focus on what’s inside the team—rather than the noise outside—that’s how you build culture. That’s how you unlock your full potential. That’s how you maximize talent and effort, and set yourself up for both performance and fulfillment.
Culture is what connects individual effort to collective success. It’s what turns a group of players into a true team. When the culture is strong, people trust each other. They communicate better. They compete harder because they’re doing it for something bigger than themselves. A strong culture aligns everyone to the same mission. So even in adversity—after a loss, during a tough stretch of training, in the grind of a long season—the team keeps moving forward. Culture raises the standard. It shapes how people show up. Relationships deepen. Accountability grows. Everyone feels ownership. And that’s what elevates performance when it matters most.
But to achieve that, players, coaches, and staff alike must focus on what’s in the locker room.
I like to think of it like a boat. Everyone on the team is on the boat. Each person has a seat, and everyone has an oar. People take on different roles. Some are stronger and can cut through the water faster. Others have more stamina and can row longer. Sometimes the strongest paddlers need a rest, and others must step in. Some have voices that dictate direction. But every seat matters. Everyone has weight.
No team’s success is ever defined by one person. It’s built on the collective impact of everyone. Every person in the boat pulling their weight, embracing their role fully, selflessly, and with purpose.
When you focus too much on impressing or pleasing people outside the boat—worrying about stats, headlines, or opinions—you stop rowing. You become dead weight. And your team can’t afford dead weight.
Because when players stop focusing on the boat, on what’s in the locker room—when they get caught up in the externalities—that’s when cracks start to form. Trust starts to slip. Standards drop. People check out or pull away from the mission. And it spreads fast. When even a few players start worrying more about how things look from the outside than how they feel inside the team, the boat slows down. It loses rhythm. And no matter how talented that team might be, it will never move the way it’s capable of moving.
Looking back on my first two years at Clemson, I can see how much of my mental energy went toward worrying about what other people thought. I focused too much on the externalities. I was constantly thinking about how my playing time or performance would look to my family, my friends, even strangers. And when I did that, I pulled myself out of the present moment. I wasn’t able to maximize my impact for the team. I put a damper on my experience.
For too long, I cared about appearances. Would my family think I was letting them down? Would friends quietly say, “Yeah, she plays for Clemson... but not much”? Would strangers think I mattered if my name wasn’t in the headlines?
It’s natural. Family, friends, and mentors have all been part of your journey. You want to make them proud. They’ve supported you, believed in you, and helped you get to where you are. But at some point, you have to remember: this is your experience now. And your only job is to be your best for the team. But when you spend too much energy trying to live up to their expectations or worrying about their perceptions, you pull yourself out of the present. You miss the opportunity right in front of you—the chance to grow, to contribute, and to make the most of where you are.
I’d spent my whole life tying my identity to being a soccer player. Playing time, goals, assists—those had always been my markers of value. But those aren’t intrinsic or sustainable. That mindset was selfish, even if I didn’t realize it at the time. And it kept me, and my team, stuck. Because sometimes, I was dead weight.
It takes a mindset shift: from chasing validation to chasing impact. From worrying about how things look to focusing on how you can help. And it comes from learning to control what you can control. Success isn’t defined by minutes or stats—but by the energy you bring to your teammates, the standard you help set, and the presence you show up with every single day. It’s about redefining identity and finding worth in your role, whatever that role may be.
For most of my career, I was a flex player. Sometimes a starter, sometimes a sub, sometimes I didn’t play at all. And that experience gave me something invaluable: perspective. Because I saw that no matter your role, the same mindset applies. You still need to focus on the locker room. You still need to row. You still need to impact.
When you commit to a program, you don’t commit to a guaranteed role. You commit to the mission. You take your seat on the boat.
And from then on, you do what your team needs from you, and you let go of the fear of perception. Because when you cling too tightly to how others might see you, you hold yourself back. You let the externalities win. And you let your team down. You forget about the meaning in the process. You don’t serve in the way you’re capable of. And you distract yourself from the true joy in the experience.
The best team I was on at Clemson was full of championship teammates. It was a group of players who forgot about the externalities and focused fully on what was in the locker room. We had a boat full of rowers—people who may not have always loved the role they served in a given game, but who loved the team and the mission more. So they showed up. Everyone bought in. Yes, we also had the talent and the effort. But the culture is what changed everything. We supported each other through the ups and downs of the season. No one was too good to do the little things, and no one’s ego was bigger than the mission. That kind of culture is rare. And when you feel it, you know it. That year was special. And because of it, we made history—together.
Here’s the truth: You will never be able to control what other people think about you, no matter how hard you try. You could play the best game of your life and someone will still have something negative to say. You could be a 90-minute starter and still hear, “That’s not enough.” Your team might win, and the media could call it luck.
That’s why what matters most is in the locker room. Because what the internet, score sheets, and outside voices don’t see are the subtle, often unseen pieces that make a team successful. No one outside knows the early mornings, the late nights, the sacrifices, the intricacies of roles within a team, or the tough conversations behind closed doors.
They don’t GET to. And because of that, they also don’t get to experience the true joy that comes with being part of it. The little moments that build real connection. The pride that comes from knowing you showed up—not for recognition, but for your teammates. The impact you make when no one’s watching. The kind of relationships you carry with you long after the season ends. That’s what makes it all worth it. And that’s what lives in the locker room.
Your confidence has to come from within—from knowing you belong, from being fully bought in, and from committing to the mission. From recognizing that your work, your voice, and your presence carry real weight. That the team couldn’t be its most productive self without it. That your value is found in how you maximize your impact. And that only needs to be understood by you, your teammates, and the people you share the journey with.
While this comes from my experience in soccer, the principle reaches far beyond the field. No matter what kind of team you’re part of—at work, at home, in your community—the same truth applies: what matters most is what’s inside the team. The relationships. The shared mission. It’s easy to get distracted by outside opinions, pressure, or comparisons. But real momentum is built when everyone stays focused on the people beside them and the purpose in front of them. That’s how teams grow. That’s how they overcome. And that’s how they create something meaningful—together.
Because at the end of the day, talent and effort alone aren’t enough for a team to reach its greatest potential. You need the other piece of the equation: culture. The foundation of trust, belief, and resilience. You need that ingredient that pulls the best of each person when it matters most.
Culture lives in the locker room. Not in the noise outside.
The more you let go of that outside noise, the more space you create—to contribute, to lead, to elevate those around you. That’s how great culture is built. That’s how teams make history and create a legacy that lasts—by focusing on the tools that move them forward, and the people who actually have a hand in the progress.
It’s also how the best experiences and the most meaningful memories are made. When everyone truly buys in, you create more than just momentum and success. You create moments you’ll carry with you long after your career is over. Moments that shape who you are and how you show up.
Ultimately, you’re only in control of what you choose to focus on. When you focus on the externalities, you give away your presence. You lose your ability to contribute to the boat and to the mission. But when you lock in—on the people beside you, the process, the mission, and the culture you’re building—everything changes.
You become part of something bigger than yourself. You maximize both your impact and your experience.
But to do that? You have to forget the externalities. You have to let go of the noise and start rowing.
You have to focus on what matters most. And that’s what’s in the locker room.
MAKE YOUR IMPACT!
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