Finding Ichiban
July 24, 2026
Finding Ichiban: Why I Keep Chasing a Game That Doesn’t Need Me (Yet)
Simon Sinek says start with Why.
Svengali the Cynic says start with the part you don’t want to admit.
Trace Adkins says it ain’t for the money or the glory — it’s for the badonkadonk.
And Probst? He touts: “the game is the lure, and the experience is the prize.”
All great. All true. But none of it matters until you get brutally honest with yourself.
So here’s me doing exactly that.
The Real Why
Not the polished Why. Not the “I’m doing this for my family” Why. Not the “I want to challenge myself” Why that everyone says right before they cry on a log.
I mean the real Why.
The Why that sits in your chest and taps its foot. The Why that doesn’t care about production tropes.
The Why that doesn’t fit neatly into the box casting keeps trying to shove me into.
The Why that made me say — in an actual audition video —
I’d play the game even without the cameras.
That’s the Why that matters. Everything else is marketing.
The Box Problem
Casting loves boxes. They’re obsessed with boxes.
I’ve accused casting sarcastically but accurately — of putting people into boxes.
I even made a video about it:
They see a beard — Dad archetype. They see a Texan — Cowboy. They see a middle‑aged guy — Early boot. Meanwhile, the real Why — the actual human being — gets saved for Dr. Liza’s couch.
But I’m not a box. I’m a messy Venn diagram of cynic, dreamer, strategist, storyteller, and guy who still thinks he could’ve out‑lied Johnny Fairplay.
The Moment I Knew
Johnny Fairplay lies about his grandmother. Before the reveal, I turn to my wife and say, “He’s lying.”
Not guessed. Not suspected. Knew.
That was the moment. The spark. The “oh, this game is built for people like me” moment.
It’s Not the Money
Let’s be real: after taxes, the winner gets a nice house down payment and the runner‑up gets a Kia. Everyone else gets a story to tell at Thanksgiving.
If I wanted money, I’d stay home and work. If I wanted fame, I’d start a podcast. If I wanted glory, I’d run a marathon and buy the medal myself.
It’s Not the Fame
I could become a dominant winner, make the cover of magazines, get the glossy edit — and I’d still not be the most famous person in my 12‑home cul‑de‑sac.
I’d be third.
And yes, that should make you wonder who the other two are. (One day I’ll tell that story. Survivor might not cast me, but my street absolutely would.)
It’s the Game
The early seasons — the real ones — hooked me.
Helicopter rides.
Jellyfish lakes.
Scuba diving.
Village visits.
Spear fishing.
Boiling water over driftwood fires.
Rewards that felt like National Geographic assignments.
You can buy a plane ticket to Fiji, but you can’t buy being marooned. You can play carnival games on the boardwalk, but you can’t buy the moment when strangers decide your fate.
That’s the part that gets me. That’s the part that still gets me.
It’s the Escape
Adults don’t get to disappear for 39 days.
Adults don’t get to play in the dirt.
Adults don’t get to lie, scheme, plot, and call it “strategy.”
When I was running my business, I couldn’t even take a long weekend without planning a cover story. Survivor is the one place where disappearing isn’t irresponsible — it’s required.
It’s the last socially acceptable form of running away.
It’s the Ichiban Moment
I’ve never felt truly great at anything. And I’m not ashamed to say that — it’s just the truth.
I’m decent at a lot — the Swiss Army knife of humans — but I want that one moment where I’m undeniably the best. In Japanese, ichiban means number one, the standout, the one who rises above the rest.
That’s what I’m chasing.
Not a trophy. Not a headline. Not a magazine cover.
I want that split second where I look at myself and think,
“There. That’s the version I always hoped was in there.”
I want to impress myself. Maybe my wife, too — show her a version she hasn’t seen in 25 years.
I want to meet the me who only shows up when the stakes are real.
And if that sounds dramatic, fine — but it’s honest.
So What’s My Why?
My Why isn’t noble. It isn’t polished. It isn’t the kind of thing casting puts on a storyboard.
My Why is the chance to finally test myself in a place where the adventure is earned, the stakes are real, and the version of me I’ve always suspected I could be finally gets a stage.
That’s it. That’s the badonkadonk. That’s the whole thing.