Californication

Putting Down the Rear-View Mirror

California is a fascinating social experiment. The hypothesis seems to be: “If we all ignore the speed limit simultaneously, can they actually ticket us all?” The result is a Bay Area reality where 80mph is the baseline. Even when you’re keeping pace with the pack, there is inevitably someone inches from your bumper, demanding more.

Coming from Nevada, “them’s fightin’ words.” For a long time, I didn’t realize that my exhaustion after a simple grocery run was the mental tax of suppressed road rage at every intersection. It took a conscious effort of “living amends” to change my internal tuning. I eventually realized that no matter my speed, someone would always be riding my ass. I decided to simply ignore them.

It turns out that when you stop staring at the threat in the mirror, you have a lot more energy for the road ahead. As a now “not-so-jelly” Jelly Roll famously shouted during his 2023 CMA acceptance speech: “The windshield is bigger than the rear-view mirror for a reason!”

The Cost of the Rear-View

In the context of addiction, the rear-view mirror is a heavy place to look. Accepting my sobriety meant accepting that my “delayed arrival” into adulthood cost me ten years of prime earning potential. That is a tremendous consequence to carry. I often wish the damage was contained strictly to my own life, but addiction is insidious; it leaks into every relationship

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While A.A. and my recovery have offered me a code to live by, I still find myself looking for a broader “North Star” in a society that feels increasingly rudderless. This is why I’ve gravitated toward the work of Scott Galloway. As a gay man navigating these cultural shifts, I deeply appreciate his lean into positive masculinity. He argues that true masculinity isn’t about dominance or ego; it is rooted in the responsibility to protect and provide. It’s a grounded moral code in an era of extravagance.

The Training Ground for Impact

Years ago, I spoke at a University “think tank” about masculinity—back before the word carried the inflammatory baggage it does today. I wanted to offer anecdotal evidence on why certain men, specifically football players, struggle to assimilate into everyday society.

My theory, rooted in my experience as both a player and a coach, was simple: That which you train for, you get.

From a young age, football players are conditioned to respond to both emotional and physical pain with overwhelming, authoritative strength. You have to be retrained to override your survival instincts. You are taught to meet impact with greater impact.

The problem back then was that we often left these men with an incomplete toolkit. We trained them meticulously in the art of the strike, but gave them fewer instructions for the “after-impact”—the nuanced skills of de-escalation and emotional regulation. Over the last decade, the NFL recognized this gap and took massive, successful strides to fix it, prioritizing personal conduct and player development. They realized that when you give strong men a complete toolkit, they don’t just become better players; they become better citizens. I am proud to report that of the 32 NFL Walter Payton Man of the Year nominees in 2026, I personally know three of them. That I can even say that makes me proud.

The Anchorless Generation

The irony is that while the NFL worked to solve its “impact” issues, the rest of society went the other way. The “overwhelming authority” of the football field and the lawlessness of the freeway have moved into our digital pockets.

We are witnessing the systematic stripping of the “masculine anchor.” Everything shown to young men today is loud, extravagant, and fleeting—seven-second bursts of wealth and ego that demand immediate attention. There is no “code” of conduct, only a race for status. Scott Galloway famously noted that “young, disenfranchised men are a malevolent force in any society.” History shows us that when men have no positive avenues for their energy and no moral “speed limits” to guide them, they become the tailgater riding the bumper of society, looking for a reason to hit the gas.

I am not blaming parents here; in fact, this is why I started with the example of collective action around the speed limit. We are all more than happy to ignore what is right when enough of us decide that the rules don’t make sense, or simply shouldn’t apply to us. We’ve collectively decided to look away while the “speed limit” of civil, masculine behavior has been abandoned.

The real scary thing isn’t the hits on the field—where the rules are now clearer than ever—it’s the world outside the lines. It’s the fact that we’ve stopped teaching young men that their strength is meant to be a shield for others, not a weapon for themselves.

When it comes to masculinity, we need to put down the rear-view mirror and look forward. The concept has been misaligned with coarseness and cruelty for too long, but that is not what it really stands for. If we are going to be successful in moving past this point in American history, voices like Scott’s—voices that call for responsibility, protection, and purpose—need to be boosted.

To check out Scott Galloway or his book, Notes on Being a Man.