“Fame is a vapor, popularity an accident, riches take wings. Only one thing endures, and that is character.” ~ Horace Greeley
Have you seen the movie “Jerry Maguire”? Remember Rod Tidwell, the talented but frustrated football player portrayed brilliantly by Cuba Gooding Jr.? At the beginning, Rod is fixated on one thing: “Show me the money!” He’s consumed by the pursuit of fame, validation, and a big contract—what he calls “the Quan.” His journey throughout the film perfectly illustrates the struggle we all face in today’s attention economy.
We live in an age obsessed with attention. Clicks. Likes. Shares. Follows. These are the new metrics of modern worth. The message is loud and clear: if it’s not popular, it’s not worth noticing.
But popularity is not the same as significance—it never was.
Attention is fleeting. Algorithms shift. Today’s trends vanish tomorrow. But meaning lasts. It endures in the questions that don’t go viral: Who are you, really? What are you giving? What do you stand for? These questions shape the underlying foundation of a life that matters.
Rod Tidwell’s transformation reminds us of this truth. His agent Jerry’s plea to “help me help you” wasn’t just about landing a better contract—it was about breaking down emotional walls that prevented Rod from achieving his full potential both on and off the field. Like many of us, Rod needed to learn that real success requires emotional honesty and vulnerability, not just performance.
What if we stopped measuring ourselves by visibility, and started measuring by integrity, curiosity, character, and care? What if we saw our lives not as performances, but as a relationship—with ourselves, with others, with nature?
Our cultural obsession with visibility blinds us to a simple truth: popularity comes in different forms, none of them significant. Much of it emerges through outrage, shock value, and titillation. It hijacks our attention by inflaming our instincts—trafficking not in truth but in reaction. It fuels our most protective impulses, not our most generous ones. While it may win crowds, it fragments communities.
Then there’s the popularity that seeks only to validate and please. It skims the surface, sanding down edges and softening boldness until it offends no one. It becomes the song everyone can hum, long after forgetting why it mattered. The Mona Lisa turned meme—so overexposed it vanishes into familiarity. Its original significance, thinned by repetition, fades unnoticed.
Whether it provokes or pleases, popularity misses what matters most. It either inflames without healing or comforts without challenging. Significance is different. It doesn’t chase the crowd. It speaks directly to the one. The most important people in your life aren’t the ones everyone knows. They’re the ones who truly know you.
This is exactly what Rod discovered through his relationship with his wife and with Jerry. His journey shows us that loyalty, integrity, and human connection lead to deeper, more sustainable success than chasing fame and fortune. By the film’s climax, Rod’s understanding of “show me the money” had evolved—he realized that true value comes when you align your inner life with your outer performance.
Think about the moments that truly changed you. Were they viral? Convenient? Universally accepted? Or were they intimate, tender, perhaps even uncomfortable in their honesty? Real significance rarely travels in a wave. It arrives quietly, like a whisper meant only for you.
Do you want to matter?
Then forget being popular. Significance isn’t about performance. It’s about presence. It’s about transforming from a self-protective persona into a fully alive, emotionally honest human being—exactly the journey Rod Tidwell undertook. The most meaningful parts of your life—conversations, relationships, insights—didn’t come from a trending post. They came from someone who really saw you. From a sentence in a book no one talks about that somehow knew exactly what you needed.
What’s particularly powerful about Rod’s story is that the transformation wasn’t one-sided. Jerry also became more authentic through their relationship. Their bond transcended business and became about believing in each other when no one else would. The right relationships challenge and change us for the better.
So say what only you can say. Build something that matters to one person. Begin a relationship that changes you both. That’s where significance lives. It doesn’t scale. It connects. It requires vulnerability, attention, and responsiveness.
A viral post might get a million views. A significant moment will change a life—maybe even yours.
P.S. Unwinding Want isn’t popular by conventional metrics, and that’s not what matters to me. I’m not asking you to “SHOW ME THE MONEY!”. What I’m really after is the full “Quan”—that perfect mix of connection, meaning, and yes, maybe a few more Amazon reviews. I’m grateful it currently holds a 4.9-star rating with 36 reviews on Amazon. Reaching 50 reviews would cross a meaningful threshold where Amazon increases its visibility to those who might truly connect with its message—the very reason I write.
If the book resonated with you, would you consider leaving a review? You’d be helping me “help you help me” reach others who need these words. Your review doesn’t need to be as passionate as Rod Tidwell’s end-zone dance, but it would mean just as much to me. Your words don’t just help others discover it—they sustain this work. And remember, as Jerry might say, sometimes the things that complete us aren’t the big contract wins, but the small moments of genuine connection.
Thanks and stay passionate!
By the way, I met the writer/director of Jerry Maguire, Cameron Crowe. And he was delightful. It was the time of Almost Famous and I gave him a small heartfelt gift. I got a note from him later to say thanks. The note had no return address. I did not have his email or phone number. He was delightful. But a ship passing in the night. Connection 0, Attention-hungry world 1.
And so it was with Shedeur Sanders. He valued currency over connection. However, NFL coaches and owners didn't agree. They were looking for connections with the other team members and with Management. Shedeur's "Show me the Money" blustering resulted in almost complete rejection by NFL teams.