Yesterday, about an hour into a movie I've seen a hundred times, I had a realization that caught me completely off guard.

I'd never actually seen Rocky in a movie theater.

My favorite movie of all time. A film whose dialogue I can practically recite, whose music can still give me goosebumps before a single word is spoken.

And somehow, I'd never seen it on the big screen.

Of course, there's a perfectly good explanation.

Rocky was released in 1976.

So was I.

And here we were, fifty years later, finally sharing a movie theater.

I can't quite explain why that realization moved me so much. But then again, I've had a difficult time explaining much of what I've felt this weekend.

Apparently, somewhere along the way to fifty, I've become quite the sap. 😊

Anyone who knows me reasonably well knows about my love for Rocky.

The framed artwork. The rare statues loved ones have found for me over the years. The two Rocky Run half marathons I've completed in Philadelphia, with my third coming next Saturday for the fiftieth-anniversary celebration.

It's been a lifelong love affair.

But as I've gotten older, something interesting has happened.

The more I've learned about how Rocky came to exist, the more I've fallen in love with the story behind the story.

The story of Sylvester Stallone.

A struggling actor, virtually penniless, who wrote a screenplay Hollywood desperately wanted.

There was just one problem.

They wanted his story.

They didn't want him.

And Stallone, with every reason in the world to accept a life-changing amount of money, refused to surrender the one thing he believed with all his heart.

That he was meant to play Rocky.

Imagine that. Having almost nothing, being offered more money than you've ever dreamed of, and turning it down because you believe there's something inside you that nobody else can see.

And knowing you could be wrong.

This past Friday, I had the privilege of attending an early showing of I Play Rocky, the new film about that extraordinary journey, which opens November 20.

I went with three of my children, ages seventeen through twenty-eight, and my best friend.

And I was completely unprepared for the emotion of the experience.

Anthony Ippolito's portrayal of Stallone was remarkable. I genuinely think there's an Oscar-worthy performance there.

But what made the evening so special was sharing it with my children.

The same kids who've grown up surrounded by all this Rocky stuff, knowing how much this movie means to their dad, were now discovering the story behind it.

And when the movie ended, my seventeen-year-old turned to me and said,

"Dad, that was low-key fire."

I couldn't help but smile.

Coming from a seventeen-year-old, I believe that's about as glowing a review as one can receive. 😊

And now my daughter wants to watch the original Rocky.

I can't tell you how much I love that.

A story that captured my imagination as a little boy, fifty years ago, had just found its way to another generation.

I've spent much of my life believing there had to be a way, even when the people around me couldn't see one.

When I started at Morgan Stanley as an administrative assistant, I told people I intended to become a Managing Director.

Plenty thought that was unrealistic.

Years later, I became one.

Then, a little over two years ago, when I decided to walk away from an extraordinarily successful career to build something of my own.

Once again, people thought I'd lost my mind.

Why would I leave the compensation, the security, and the position I'd spent decades working to achieve?

I remember one conversation in particular.

Someone was struggling to understand what I intended to do next.

"But what are you going to do?"

And then came the question that has stayed with me ever since.

"But then you're just betting on yourself?"

I remember how those words landed.

Because in that moment, I knew.

That's exactly what I was doing.

There's a moment in the original Rocky that has stayed with me since I was a kid.

The night before his fight with Apollo Creed, Rocky is lying beside Adrian, quietly acknowledging that he probably can't win.

But he's come to understand what he really wants.

He just wants to go the distance.

Fifteen rounds.

To do something nobody has ever done against Apollo.

Because if he can do that, he'll know for the first time in his life that he wasn't "just another bum from the neighborhood."

God, that line.

And isn't that what Stallone was doing, too?

Neither man knew how his story would turn out.

They just needed the chance to find out.

In a few days, I'll be back in a classroom, helping young people develop confidence, executive presence, and the ability to influence others.

I'll teach them to project their voices, hold their ground, and look people in the eye.

But underneath all of it is the lesson I care about most.

Belief comes first.

Belief creates the courage to act. Action builds confidence. Confidence changes how you carry yourself, and that presence begins to influence the world around you.

Tonight, I'll be watching Rocky again, this time accompanied by a live orchestra performing Bill Conti's magnificent score.

I suppose to some people it might seem a little excessive.

But I think I finally understand why this story has meant so much to me.

I first met Rocky when I was a boy with an entire life ahead of me.

I saw something in him I couldn't yet explain, but somehow recognized.

The desire to be more than the world might expect.

And now, fifty years later, after all the victories, disappointments, and unexpected turns, I'm finding that the same story still has something to teach me.

If you get the chance to see I Play Rocky, I hope you will. And if you have kids, maybe bring them along.

Who knows? You might find yourself sharing something that stays with them for the next fifty years.

Maybe they'll walk away with a little more belief in what's possible for their lives.

And maybe you'll be reminded of what's still possible for yours.

And when that final bell rings, whatever the outcome, I hope we can all say...

We went the distance.

P.S. That same belief runs through my new book, Leadership at the Dinner Table. It's a story about believing in yourself, the courage to pursue the life you want, and perhaps most importantly, what we teach our children through the way we live our own. I hope you'll give it a read. ❤️

With Absolute Sincerity,

Ed Clementi

Founder & CEO of Inspired Fire

Make an Impact and Feel an Impact!

He has a newsletter on beehiiv. So do Codie Sanchez, Jay Shetty, David Begnaud, Colin & Samir, and Joanna Stern.

They could publish just about anywhere. They chose beehiiv to build a direct connection with the people who want to hear from them most. And you can do the same, whether you’re world-famous or just at the start of your plan for world domination.

Get started for free.