The Power of Authentic Leadership
My father, Charlie "Tremendous" Jones, built his life and legacy around gratitude—including his signature phrase, "Thank you for your smile!" He believed a genuine smile could change everything.
I pulled my father's expressive genes. You can read me from a mile away—it's why I could never play poker! I once had to get my passport photo taken three times because they kept telling me not to smile, and I couldn't! It's physically impossible for this face to stay neutral.
So when I watch Indiana's head coach, Curt Cignetti, on the sideline, I'm genuinely mystified. The man doesn't smile. Not when his team scores a touchdown. Not when they win the Big Ten Championship. Not when his quarterback wins the Heisman Trophy. Not ever. His poker face could win in Vegas.
And yet, this stone-faced man just led Indiana University—yes, Indiana—to a 15-0 season, a #1 seed in the College Football Playoff, their first Big Ten Championship since 1967, the school's first Heisman Trophy winner, and a spot in the National Championship game.
Meet the ultimate Misfit Leader. And proof that you don't need to smile to lead tremendously.
"I Win. Google Me."
When Indiana hired Cignetti in late 2023, skepticism ran high. This was a program with the most losses in NCAA history. Why would a sixty-something coach who had never led a Power 5 team be able to change that?
At his introductory press conference, reporters kept asking—for the fifteenth time—how he could turn things around. Cignetti later admitted he was tired of the question. So he put his head down and finally said:
"It's pretty simple. I win. Google me."
It sounded like arrogance—delusions of grandeur. But you know what? He was right. We Googled him. And everywhere he'd been, he won.
He later explained that when he arrived in Indiana, he "detected this gloom around the program, this hopelessness." He had to set expectations and get people excited. And nothing excites people like confidence backed by competence.
(By the way, there's now an officially licensed talking bobblehead that plays the audio of him saying it. Cignetti is donating all his proceeds to Riley Children's Hospital. Even his merchandise has substance.)
Forty Years to Become an Overnight Success
Here's what the highlight reels won't tell you: Cignetti spent nearly four decades climbing a ladder that kept moving.
He started as a graduate assistant at Pitt in 1983. He coached quarterbacks at Davidson, Rice, and Temple. He spent seven years at NC State, where he helped develop future Super Bowl champion Russell Wilson. He worked under Nick Saban at Alabama, recruiting Heisman winner Mark Ingram and future NFL stars Julio Jones and Dont'a Hightower. He earned a national championship ring as an assistant in 2009.
And then? At age 49, when most coaches are either running major programs or heading toward retirement, Cignetti finally got his first head coaching job.
At Division II, Indiana University of Pennsylvania.
Not Indiana. Indiana of Pennsylvania. A school most people have never heard of.
Building Winners Where No One Was Watching
What happened next tells you everything you need to know about Cignetti's leadership.
At IUP, he went 53-17 with three playoff appearances and two conference championships. At Elon, he inherited a program that had gone 12-45 in five years and immediately led them to back-to-back playoff appearances—a first in school history. At James Madison, he went 52-9, won three conference titles, and reached the FCS National Championship game.
Everywhere he went, he won. But the big-time programs kept passing him by. Too old. Wrong pedigree. Didn't fit the mold of what a Power 5 head coach was "supposed" to look like.
He was mis-fitted by a system that values flash over substance, youth over wisdom, charisma over competence.
Sound familiar?
The Beauty of Being Yourself
Cignetti doesn't give rah-rah speeches. Before one game at IUP, he walked into the locker room, paced silently, and finally said: "Who all in here knows Cassius Clay? Float like a butterfly, sting like a bee. That's what I want you to do today. Let's go."
That was it—the whole speech.
His press conferences are legendary for their brevity and bluntness. He doesn't smile for the cameras. He doesn't play politics. He doesn't pretend to be something he's not.
He just wins.
And here's what's beautiful: his players absolutely love him. They play their hearts out for a man who will never be confused for a motivational speaker. Because they know he's authentic. They know he's competent. They know he cares about them—not about appearances.
Meanwhile, I can't even get through airport security without grinning at the TSA agent. We're wired differently, Coach Cignetti and me.
Why I Can't Stop Watching
I'll be honest: half the reason I watch the Hoosiers is for him.
I just so admire his focus—that laser-like intensity that doesn't waver until the final whistle blows. He stays locked in whether they're up by 30 or it's a nail-biter—no premature celebrations. No letting up. No distractions.
I learn so much from watching him lead.
Now, I'm a weirdo magnet and love me some odd ducks—but Curt Cignetti isn't odd. He's just authentic. He doesn't bend to what the world says a leader should look like. He lets the results do the talking.
I may be a completely different style than him—I'm the one who can't stop smiling, remember?—but I love following leaders like this.
That's the beauty of leadership: it doesn't come in one flavor. We need the smilers AND the stone-faces. The extroverts AND the introverts. The rah-rah motivators AND the quiet grinders.
What we need less of? Fakers. People pretending to be something they're not.
A Culture of Character
Look at the young men Cignetti attracts. His Heisman-winning quarterback, Fernando Mendoza, incorporates daily Mass into his game-day routine and leads team Bible studies. Fernando and his brother Alberto—both quarterbacks on the team—have raised over $125,000 for Multiple Sclerosis research in honor of their mother. When Fernando won the Heisman, he dedicated it to her: "Mami, this is your trophy as much as it is mine."
That's not a coincidence. Leaders attract who they are, not who they pretend to be.
Cignetti built a program where character matters. Where substance beats style. Where you don't have to fit the mold to make an impact.
The Misfit Leader's Lesson
If you've ever been passed over because you didn't fit the corporate image...
If you've ever been told you're "too much" or "not enough"...
If you've ever watched less qualified people get promoted because they played the game better...
Curt Cignetti has a message for you: Keep building. Keep winning. Stay true to who you are.
At 64, after being overlooked for decades, he's coaching in the National Championship game on January 19th. Not because he finally learned to smile for the cameras. Not because he became someone else. But because he trusted his process and refused to compromise his authenticity.
The world doesn't need more polished leaders who say the right things. It needs more Curt Cignettis—people who do the right things, whether anyone's watching or not.
So thank you for your smile... unless you're Curt Cignetti. In that case, Coach, just keep doing what you're doing. The rest of us will do the smiling for you.
Lead YOUR way, friends. The results will speak for themselves.
And if anyone asks how? Just tell them to Google you.
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Tracey C. Jones is the President of Tremendous Leadership and author of The Island of Misfit Leaders. Her father, Charlie "Tremendous" Jones, was a legendary motivational speaker whose books and messages continue to inspire millions. Unlike Coach Cignetti, Tracey has never successfully kept a straight face for any photo. Learn more at TremendousLeadership.com
