Decisions in Private Often Become Public, Including Moral Ones
This is a hard blog post to write.
I was raised not to judge people. That lesson was clear and consistent in my house. You worry about your own conduct first. You look in the mirror before you point a finger. You assume you do not know the full story. Those values are deeply ingrained in me, which is why the situation involving Sharon Moore, the head football coach at Michigan Wolverines football, gives me pause.
Yet watching this situation unfold has also affirmed exactly how I was raised.
Morality is not tested when the rules are easy or when the spotlight is bright. Morality is tested in the quiet moments. The moments when you think no one is watching. The moments when the outcome matters and the temptation to justify a decision creeps in. That is when character shows up, or it does not.
I grew up with a father (and a mother) who believed deeply that how you behave when you think no one is looking is more important than how you behave when everyone is watching. My father never framed this as a lecture. He lived it. He modeled it. Honor was not a slogan. Responsibility was not situational. You did the right thing because it was the right thing, not because you might get caught if you did not.
And as mom always said,
You do the small thing
You do the tough thing
You do the right thing
Funny as they always seem to be the same thing
That lesson stays with me more as I get older. Not less. Experience has a way of clarifying what matters. Titles fade. Wins fade. Praise fades. What remains is how you conducted yourself along the way and whether you can stand behind your decisions without qualifiers or excuses.
One of the hardest truths about these lessons is that they are often wasted on youth. When you are young, consequences feel abstract. Time feels unlimited. Pressure feels temporary. You convince yourself that bending a rule is not the same as breaking it, or that intent somehow outweighs action. Later in life, when leadership carries real weight and decisions ripple outward, you finally understand why those early lessons mattered so much.
And here is the uncomfortable part. Even when you think no one is looking, someone always is. Sometimes it is another person. Sometimes it is an institution. Sometimes it is history. Most often, it is yourself. You are the one who has to live with the decision when the noise dies down.
This is not about piling on or celebrating someone else’s misstep. It is about acknowledging that integrity is not theoretical. It is practical. It shows up in emails, conversations, and choices made under pressure. The older I get, the more grateful I am for the example set by my father. Honor and responsibility are not convenient, but they are durable. And in the end, they matter far more than the scoreboard.
