I played rugby before I understood what a P&L was. I played through three countries, Argentina, Mexico, and Miami, and in every new city, the first thing I looked for was a team. Not a gym, not a classroom. A team. Rugby has always been my anchor.
It wasn't until I started working in real professional environments that I realized just how much the sport had been preparing me for everything that came after. The overlap is almost embarrassing once you see it clearly. The skills I use most in professional life, performing under pressure, leading without authority, reading a room, recovering from failure fast, I didn't develop in a lecture hall. I developed them on a pitch, in the rain, 70 minutes deep into a match I wasn't sure we were going to win.
The Tackle You Didn't See Coming
In rugby, you get tackled. A lot. Sometimes you see it coming, a big number 8 barreling down the line with bad intentions. Most of the time, you don't. You're moving at full speed, you've made your read, you're committed to the line, and then suddenly you're on the ground, staring at the sky, wondering what just happened.
Business isn't much different. You make the best decision you can with the information you have. You build a strategy, execute against it, commit. And sometimes the market shifts, a deal falls through, or a competitor does something you didn't anticipate. The question is never whether you'll get knocked down. It's how fast you get back up.
In rugby, you have about three seconds before the ruck forms. You have to be on your feet. You don't have the luxury of lying there and processing what went wrong. Business gives you a bit more time, but the principle is the same. Mourn it for a moment. Understand what happened. Then get back in the game and make the next decision better than the last one.
"Pressure isn't the enemy. Lack of preparation is."
Performing Under Pressure
There's a specific moment in rugby, usually around the 70th minute, when your lungs are burning, your legs feel like concrete, and the match is still in the balance, where everything you've drilled in training either shows up or it doesn't. The play is called. The lineout is called. The scrum is set. You either execute or you don't. There's no hiding. There's no "I'll do better next time." This is next time.
I've had that same feeling in high-stakes professional moments. Before a first-round interview at a firm I really wanted. Before a presentation to a senior leadership team at Avolta. Before a cold outreach to someone I needed on my side. The body doesn't know the difference between physical and professional pressure, the adrenaline feels the same. What determines the outcome is the quality of the preparation that preceded the moment.
Rugby taught me that the 70th minute is won in the training sessions nobody sees. The hours on the pitch when it's just you and your teammates running the same play until it's automatic. The weights you lift before anyone else is awake. The film you watch when you don't technically have to. That discipline, the willingness to do the unglamorous work consistently, is the foundation everything else sits on.
Leading Without a Title
The most interesting thing about leadership in rugby is that it's distributed. Yes, there's a captain. But on a rugby field, in the chaos of a breakdown or a set piece gone wrong, leadership is whoever steps up in that moment. The hooker calling the line-out. The fly-half adjusting the defensive line on the fly. The tighthead prop steadying the scrum when the pressure is on, even though everyone outside watching has no idea what's happening inside the bind.
This is exactly what real professional leadership looks like. The best professionals I've encountered don't wait for permission to lead. They don't wait for the title or the formal authority. They see what needs to happen, they make the call, and they take responsibility for the outcome. I've learned, sometimes the hard way, to be that person. To be comfortable stepping into a vacuum, saying "here's what I think we should do," and owning what comes next.
That's a skill I developed on the pitch, long before I knew it would matter in boardrooms and strategy sessions.
Culture Is Everything
I played rugby in three countries, each with a completely different rugby culture. Argentine rugby is physical, proud, and deeply emotional, it's fuelled by passion and national identity, played with an intensity that borders on personal. In Mexico, the sport was still growing when I was there, so you had this mix of seasoned players and complete newcomers building something together almost from scratch, a culture of inclusion and patience. In Miami, it's cosmopolitan: players from a dozen different backgrounds, every style of play, every cultural approach to the game in one squad.
Managing across that kind of cultural diversity, understanding what motivates a player from Buenos Aires versus one from São Paulo versus one from Cape Town, didn't just make me a better rugby player. It made me a more effective communicator, a better listener, and a more adaptable teammate. And in a professional career focused on Latin American markets and international finance, the ability to read a room across cultures, to understand the unspoken register of a conversation, to know when to push and when to defer, is one of the most undervalued skills you can develop.
What I Carry Forward
I still train. I still play when I can. Not because I'm trying to hold onto something, but because rugby keeps me honest. It reminds me that fundamentals matter, that no amount of cleverness makes up for a lack of preparation. It reminds me that effort is non-negotiable, that the team always beats the individual, and that the most important moments are the ones nobody is watching.
Every time I walk into a new professional environment, a new team, a new firm, a new project, I'm still a little bit that kid on the pitch in Buenos Aires trying to figure out his position, earn his teammates' trust, and contribute to something bigger than himself. The context changes. The game changes. But the principles don't.
That's the brand. That's what I carry.