Here's How Chicago Can Keep Its Top Tech Talent From Leaving for Other Cities

I"m sure you"ve heard by now that pretty much every metropolis in the country is claiming to be the next Silicon Valley. In a previous Inc piece I wrote, titled The Advantage Chicago Has Over Silicon Valley, I threw Chicago"s hat in the ring to be considered next in line.

Many Chicagoans have responded positively to the piece, validating Chicago"s entrepreneurial excitement. A handful of people, however, responded with some resistance to the constant comparisons to to Silicon Valley, like this Medium post by Jason Fried, CEO of Basecamp: Chicago, be Chicago. 

And for good reason--following another city"s playbook limits the space for originality. But on the other hand, resisting to target other cities is problematic and, to a some extent, dangerous.

Why? I"ll get to that in a second, but first I need to share a small part of my story:

I"m a twenty-something entrepreneur born and raised in Chicago. I founded MSTQ, a Chicago-based design and innovation firm, which has afforded me the opportunity to have a hand in some of Chicago"s most exciting tech startups. My work has given me a front row seat to Chicago"s growing tech scene, seeing first-hand this city"s immense potential for innovation. 

But there was once a time where I felt a deep sense of wanderlust. Not too long ago, I had dreams of packing a single suitcase and buying a one way ticket out. Admittedly, I felt like there was something bigger than what Chicago had to offer, that Chicago wasn"t forward-thinking enough and that I had outgrown it.

The problem is I"m most definitely not the only aspirational, bright-eyed entrepreneur that has felt this way. Many of my most talented friends--friends with incredibly promising creative potential that I admired--have left Chicago for cities like New York, Los Angeles and, you guessed it, Silicon Valley. 

Moreover, Chicago"s population has decreased for the third straight year. Meanwhile, urban populations are increasing everywhere else. While Chicago is still the third-most-populous metropolitan area in the US, it was the only one in the country"s top ten cities that saw a decrease rather than an increase in population, according to the Census Bureau.

So when influential figures in Chicago like Jason Fried resists comparisons to the very cities that are siphoning Chicago"s best native talent, they"re maintaining the status quo.

The crazy irony is that it was Fried himself who once preached the value of illuminating comparisons to competitors. In his book REWORK, here"s what he had to say about "picking fights":

"If you think a competitor sucks, say so. When you do that, you"ll find that others who agree with you will rally to your side. Being the anti-_____ is a great way to differentiate yourself and attract followers. Taking a stand always stands out. People get stoked by conflict. They take sides. Passions are ignited. And that"s a good way to get people to take notice."

So, why then, would you shy away from picking a fight with the biggest competitor?

The reality is, Silicon Valley is regarded as the tech and innovation capital of the world, bar none; it"s the modern day Rome of technology and innovation. And you know what they say--all roads lead to Rome, including the one from Chicago.

Insisting that young, ambitious Chicagoans like me ignore the success of the Valley hinders the ability to stand out and develop a sense of pride--a key ingredient in motivating the next generation of talent to stay in Chicago. 

Shouldn"t there be a target to aspire to? A vision to rally around?

Look, I get it. Let"s build something that"s our own. Let"s stop copying other cities. Let"s be original. Let"s not inflate our rent prices. Let"s make Chicago winters cool.

But instilling the belief that Chicago can be better than the best requires learning from and acknowledging the best. If today"s leaders in Chicago are going to preach a philosophy to its next generation of tech leaders, let it be Kobe Bryant"s perspective on comparisons to Michael Jordan:

"When you"re looking at players out there now, you"re saying, "OK, there"s not a next Michael Jordan." It"s not about the surface stuff. It"s about: Are they approaching the game the way he did?"

That way, the next generation of tech talent can not only better understand the formula for success, but also the Chicago"s unique strengths in comparison. And in Fried"s words, picking a fight with the best might inspire them to rally around the potential for the Second City to be first in innovation. 

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Blake Griffin May No Longer Be a Clipper, But He's Still a Comic Talent

On YouTube, NBA all-star Blake Griffin is his own comedic genre. A cursory search for his funniest moments generates 271,000 results, an aggregate of humor and oddball spirit that includes videos like “Blake Griffin Does Stand Up Comedy - Actually FUNNY!” “Chris Paul Says D*ck, Blake Griffin Cracks Up,” and “Top 10 Blake Griffin Funny Commercials.” Griffin has yet to record in such prolific strides, but the videos do point to some of his most enduring work throughout his 10 seasons as a Los Angeles Clipper: that of small-screen thespian.

But 10 seasons do not a lifer make. This week, the power forward was traded to the Detroit Pistons in an overnight deal that stunned the league. During his time in LA, Griffin had become a leading figure on a team that excelled on paper, but chronically sputtered out in the early rounds of the playoffs. Griffin’s brilliance, though, was at times even brighter off the basketball hardwood. Infrequent and strangely commanding, he’d made a noticeable mark in commercials and TV shows that tested the limits of his comedic craftsmanship. Over time, spanning one-off roles and web sketches, Griffin managed to become not just a adept line reader, but an innovator of the form.

Not since Shaquille O’Neal’s tenure with the Lakers has a local player exuded such natural potential for Hollywood. A collection of his most abiding bits were for Kia Optima, the untrendy economy car that Griffin made feel moderately chic. (LeBron would follow suit, though unsurprisingly endorsing the manufacturer’s king-size luxury sedan.) Over the years, as the company spokesperson, he embraced the texture of his eccentricities: there was Blake as the poised superhero (Griffin Force!); Blake as the blustering Roman emperor; Blake as the celestial being who lives in an otherworld known as “the zone”; Blake as the military pilot who believes the Optima to be a formidable combat weapon. (“The bad guys are expecting me to be in a fighter jet, not a midsize sedan,” he theorizes in a kind of half-baked logic, fully confident. “I’ll fly in under the radar.”)

In a series of commercials that took on an anthology format, Griffin journeys back in time, at infrequent points of his adolescence, and offers advice to his younger self. In one, he travels to 1997 and finds Young Blake in the middle of a flag football game. Without hesitation, he steals the ball, kicks it out of the frame, and declares with deadpan precision: “Wrong sport.” He then advises: “Stop wearing jean shorts. Just trust me.”

In 2016, Griffin landed his biggest role yet: a guest spot (as himself) in an episode of Broad City, Comedy Central’s hit series about the quirks of modern womanhood. For his part, Griffin participated in a nude sex scene in which he danced, cradled, played games, and drank tea with Ilana in a hotel room. For decades professional athletes have satirized their identities in film and television—poking fun at yourself has become all but a career prerequisite—but Griffin has an uncanny gift for short-form comedy; it’s as if he’s all but redefined the relationship athletes have to the genre.

When I spoke with him in 2010, during his injury-plagued first season on the Clippers (he sat out all 82 games due to a stress fracture in his left knee that later required surgery), Griffin said his hope was to “change the culture” in LA. He never won a championship with the Clippers, but it’s possible he changed the culture in other, less obvious modes. An early flash of genius, and a favorite of mine, came in 2011 in a hoax commercial inspired by the NBA Lockout. Alongside Kevin Love and Ron Artest, Griffin promotes various services for hire—carpentry, welding, crime-solving, DJing. The bit is awkward and takes on the veneer of a cheap infomercial, but you can see Griffin slowly coming into himself. Even back then he knew what we later would: he was his own best punchline.

The WIRED World of Sports

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