I’m interested in what happens when the right people find each other.

I grew up in Arizona, the youngest of four and a twin, and spent most of my early life around sports. Football became the first place I learned what discipline actually looks like.

My path to Division I wasn't straightforward. I went through junior college before eventually earning the opportunity to play wide receiver at Utah State. Nobody arrives at JUCO by accident — you go because the direct path didn't open, and you either use the year or you go home.

College athletics taught me about preparation, resilience, competition, sacrifice and being part of something larger than yourself. But one lesson has stayed with me more than almost anything else.

As a receiver, you don't always get the football. Sometimes your route exists to create space for somebody else. You can make a meaningful contribution to the play without ever appearing on the stat sheet.

I've carried that into business. Some of the most valuable people in a room are the ones creating opportunities for everyone else.

Eventually I started hosting and attending far more events, and something became obvious.

We had increasingly sophisticated tools for getting people into events. Registration. Ticketing. Marketing. QR codes. Check-in. But the most important question was still largely unanswered: once everybody gets there, how do we help the right people actually meet?

That's the problem that became GetNetworked. We're building at the intersection of event infrastructure, attendee intelligence, curated introductions, community and measurable relationship outcomes.

It's still early. We're still learning. We're still building. That's part of what makes it worth doing.

There's another part of my story that matters more than entrepreneurship.

For years, achievement could easily become identity. Athletics made that tempting. Sales made that tempting. Entrepreneurship makes it extremely tempting — there is always another milestone available to chase.

My relationship with Jesus has forced me to confront a different question: who am I if none of the things I'm building work?

That's changed how I think about ambition. I still want to build meaningful companies. I still want to compete. But I'm learning to build from identity instead of building for identity, and that distinction has changed a lot.

I attend Elevate City Church in Sandy Springs.