Good Bull

June 20, 2026

“I carry it with me wherever I go, just to remember the times.” ~ Granger Smith, We Bleed Maroon

Last week, I wrote about connection and how some of the most important moments in our lives happen when people simply show up for us. As I reflected on that article, I found myself thinking about one of the most important connections in my own life and a person who taught me a great deal about leadership long before I fully understood the lesson.

His name was Dr. John Hoyle.

Before I tell that story, I need to explain a phrase that Aggies know well.

At Texas A&M, “Good Bull” is one of the highest compliments you can give someone. The phrase is deeply woven into Aggie culture and is used to describe actions, behaviors, and people who embody the Aggie Spirit. It can mean doing the right thing when nobody is watching. It can mean selfless service. It can mean showing respect, investing in others, or simply being the kind of person people are proud to know.

In short, Good Bull is about character.

And when I think about Good Bull, I think about the late Dr. John Hoyle.

If you’ve spent time around educational leadership circles, there’s a good chance you’ve heard his name. Dr. Hoyle authored numerous leadership books, including Leadership and the Force of Love and Good Bull. He taught generations of leaders at Texas A&M University and left a lasting impact on countless educators across the country. Long before that, he played baseball for the Aggies and was a member of Texas A&M’s 1947 Southwest Conference Championship team.

More importantly, he was my dissertation chair.

Anyone who has completed a doctorate understands that your dissertation chair becomes a significant part of your life. You spend years working together through drafts, revisions, research questions, deadlines, and moments where you’re convinced you’ll never finish.

Every time I met with Dr. Hoyle, I would show up prepared to discuss my dissertation. I had notes. I had questions. I had concerns. I had sections I wanted him to review and problems I was convinced required immediate attention. Getting an hour of his time was hard!

Most of the time, we’d spend fifty-five minutes reminiscing about Aggie baseball.

Then, with just a few minutes left, he’d look at me and say something like, “You’re on the right track. You’re doing great. I’m proud of you.”

At the time, I didn’t fully appreciate what he was doing.

Now I do.

The dissertation was important, but it wasn’t the most important thing happening in those meetings. He was building confidence. He was building trust. He was investing in a relationship that would last long after the degree was finished.

Years later, one of the greatest leadership lessons he ever taught me happened on graduation day.

A few days before commencement, Dr. Hoyle called and told me he probably wasn’t going to make the ceremony because of an important family commitment. I understood completely. By that point, he had already invested years helping me earn that doctorate, and I was simply grateful for everything he had done.

When your name is called at Texas A&M, your dissertation chair places your doctoral hood over your head. It’s one of the most meaningful traditions in academia. By graduation day, I honestly didn’t care who placed the hood on me. I was proud to be graduating from Texas A&M and excited to celebrate with my family.

When my name was called, I walked across the stage at Reed Arena and turned toward the crowd. As part of the ceremony, you face forward while your dissertation chair places the hood over your head from behind.

I remember standing there waiting and then seeing the hands come over my shoulders.

I immediately knew whose hands they were.

Somehow, despite everything else he had going on, Dr. Hoyle had raced back, arrived late, and waited through most of the ceremony just to make sure he was there for that moment.

I’ve never forgotten it. Not because of the degree. Not because of the hood.

Because he showed up.

The older I get, the more I realize that the best leaders I’ve known all share that same quality. They show up. They make the call. They check in. They remember birthdays. They invest in people long before they need something from them. In a world increasingly obsessed with transactions, they focus on relationships.

Looking back, that’s probably why Dr. Hoyle spent so much time talking about baseball. He understood something I didn’t understand yet. Leadership isn’t ultimately about tasks, projects, dissertations, strategic plans, or organizational charts.

It’s about people. The work matters. The relationship matters more.

Nearly twenty years after earning my doctorate, I still carry those lessons with me. I carry them into my work, my friendships, my parenting, and my leadership. Like Granger Smith sings in We Bleed Maroon, there are certain places, experiences, and people that stay with us long after we’ve left them behind.

Dr. Hoyle is one of those people for me.

That’s Good Bull.