If you looked at the desk positioned at the front of a cool but modest ground level suite belonging to a startup on Manhattan’s East Side, your first assumption might be that it looks out of place. It’s out of place mostly because, somewhere along the lines of corporate office culture evolution, the tenets of contemporary startup culture became mainstream for their nobility: In short, startups, or most of them, anyway, are loathe to adopt workplace symbols of corporate hierarchy, instead taking pride in Messianic cues: The CEO, in this world, could one day be assigned to make the coffee or deliver the mail. Or something.
That would all seem very right and a rational way to think on any other morning, in any other office. But not here. Because sitting behind the desk is Tiki Barber, the retired and oft maligned former star running back of the New York Giants. He stood up from his desk when we walked in and unexpectedly, but completely normally, introduced himself as “Tiki Barber.â€
Because Barber’s throne at this startup is one of he and his partners’ own making, it is also one that could make or break a new venture. He is undeniably the face of Thuzio, a web start-up which recruits current and former athletes and pairs them with clients for “experiencesâ€: coaching opportunities, corporate luncheons – or just about anything consumers can think of. You could, for instance, hire Barber to come bowling with you and your friends. You could shoot hoops with Darryl Dawkins.
Tiki is 37, looks 27 and carries himself with the same self-importance once repulsive to teammates and endearing to the suits at NBC who, when he was still in his playing prime, offered him almost as much money as he made playing football to, among other things, dance the cha cha.
Thuzio’s other principals are Matthew Higgins, CEO Glenn Laumeister and Chairman Mark Gerson. We requested an interview with Gerson but Thuzio’s publicist informed us he’d gotten “pulled into†something. And then he had to take off for a lunch. We never spoke.
“Tiki Barber is simply a brilliant entrepreneur,†Gerson said through the publicist. “He has a profound understanding of how to deploy technology to fulfill customer demands, a remarkable ability to help people and companies to harness disparate strengths to form productive relationships, extraordinary creativity, true kindness and deep generosity of spirit. All of this makes him a terrific partner — and a great business builder for Thuzio.”
During the course of the 40-minute interview about the new venture, Barber offered heady, unsolicited anecdotes from the worlds of physics (I had to get smarter about running the ball), the blues (Eric Clapton’s hero was Buddy Guy … everyone has his or her heroes) and a visit to the New York Philharmonic (an enthused cellist reminded him that everyone has something their good at that makes them feel good) to help explain where he is in life, and where he thinks his new business venture can go.
Are Barber’s worldly tastes and displays of superior intellect silly affectations or the measure of a man who’s long yearned to be defined by more than just football? The appreciation he hopes consumers come away with as Thuzio clients indicates it’s a war he’s no longer interested in waging.
“What I would love to happen is for the consumer to realize that we’re just people,†Barber said, his hands tapping the table to emphasize his point. “We have great jobs that people care about, write about and obsess and gamble on … but we’re just real people. We’re not a caricature. We are just a guy — or a girl. And with Thuzio we want to take away the mystique.â€
The most effective part of Barber’s ground game in his pitch for Thuzio includes genuine empathy for athletes who, with their playing days behind them, often struggle for meaning and purpose.
After a short-lived comeback effort in 2011, Thuzio seems an unlikely venture for Barber, who for all of his threats to retire, always seemed to straddle the line between fan favorite and New York tabloid whipping boy. His destination there seems unlikely; throughout his ten year career, he seemed, to his credit, largely indifferent about his own celebrity. In 2010, when the Giants inducted Barber into the Giants Ring of Honor, he was showered with boos. Other Giants heroes were given a hero’s welcome.
As a retired athlete, Barber understands the fear associated with being someone who used to be someone. Barber hopes athletes that participate are empowered to take ownership over their own careers whether they become involved with Thuzio or not.
“It’s really a fear of rejection and [the threat] of having a negative outcome thrown on you,†says Barber, who added that people on the street say good and negative things in his direction. “Rejection and negativity is hard to deal with. But I think what I’ve learned going through the ups and downs even when I was playing was that ultimately I’m in control of where I go. Someone can have so many bad opinions about me, but if they don’t know me or know where I’m trying to go then it doesn’t matter. You kind of just have to let it [go] and be secure in who you are and where you’re going in your life. The challenge is a lot of guys don’t know where they’re going. They see themselves as football players and don’t see the end … wherever it may be.â€
The end for Barber’s football career came after the 2006 season, just before the Giants won the Super Bowl in February. Barber has said he is not financial straits, but many were confused by an effort to return in 2011. An SEC filing indicates that Barber makes a $200,000 salary, but Thuzio refused to confirm or deny.
Asked why he was drawn to Thuzio, Barber has to think.
“I found myself in a void professionally, I had just stopped working for NBC and I was looking for what was next. I love broadcasting but it’s a tough industry to grab a hold in. I saw a lot of my former peers doing nothing. Kind of like I was but obviously in worse off situations.â€
Barber feels fortunate to be comfortable with his celebrity, now that it’s literally paying off.
“A lot of guys are insecure with their popularity … they feel exposed when they’re out,†he says. “You see them always on their phones, introverted. The problem [with being a retired athlete] is that you can’t monetize your craft anymore … but there is still some value. You’re going to languish and wallow for a little bit and feel bad, but eventually you’ve got to get up again.â€
Before long, Barber was off to another meeting, but not before he talked a little football. He marvels at his twin brother Ronde’s ability this late in his career. He’s borderline obsessed with Robert Griffin III, who he believes will be the next wave of quarterback in the future. He still watches the Giants. Frustrating to watch, he says, “because they’re so damn good.”
As we said goodbye, a member of the staff needed his attention for a briefing. But first, Tiki Barber walked to a side room. He was getting his own water.