Triple Crown Sports by Judith Kolva

PROFESSIONAL. PREDICTABLE. CONSISTENT. â€”TCS

Dedication To the ballplayers who wanted the Best in their weekends Thanks to the many TC Diehards who gave a good part of their working years to build Triple Crown, and to Rod Crawford, Ed Jones, and Jerry Sorensen, who ended their time on earth while at TC. God Bless

Storytellers

Thank you to all who shared their story of building Triple Crown. We are sorry we missed the rest of you, as we know you had stories to tell. John Casale Kirk Gentry

Patty Harsh Sean Hardy

Annette King David King

Kasey King

Kelly King Salberg Keri King

Alberta Lee

Kent Oldham Bill Pilcher

Gene Plummer Roland Rivera

Get Your Program Here Introduction

Pregame: 1877-Forward

Home Team: 1800s-Forward

18 41 61 69 75 95

131 147 165

King Family Tree

Warm Up: 1956-1982 Batter Up: 1982

Cornerstone Moments: 1982-2018 Spring Training: 1982-1987 Play Ball: 1987-1992 Foul Ball: 1993

The Majors: 1994-2008

Expansion: 1992-Forward

185

Grand Slam: 1992-Forward

213

On the Air: 1988-Forward

203 227 261 295 303

VIP Package: 1982-Forward Rule Book: 1980s-Forward

Scoreboard: 1956-Forward

Pinch Hitters: 1997-Forward

Superstar Events: 1991-Forward

333

Analytics: 1987-Forward

367

Hall of Fame Inductees 2019

351 370

Next Season: 2017-Forward Scouting Report

Introduction

he stories of how this amazing company were formed are many. In keeping with the commitment by us to keep the stories and photos alive of our legacy, the book just made sense. In the beginning, my commitment was to insure we captured the facts, timeline, the cast and keep alive in copy the many key moments of this journeys. We entered so many varied endeavors, businesses, and events that we oen forgot inside the walls of our path to where we are today. In the end, the book spun its own life with Judith Kolva and her team. anks to them for their diligence and professionalism. e people who worked here were passionate players and sports enthusiasts themselves. We asked them to be as selfish as possible in building their events. “Make them what you want or dream about as a player and coach. Leave no idea untouched. Try them all”. And they did. It was a tough business on each of them as it took them away from their families on many key weekends. For that I am forever grateful but sorrowed that this is what happened. Many were on the road in the first 10 years for over 100 nights a year. Too much. We have changed this, but without what they did we would not have made it. e years of 1988,1993,2002 and 2008 were extremely diﬃcult on us. e burden of finding a sustainable business model that worked for TC was long in coming. In all probability, it was solidified in 2004 with our commitment to premium events only and in 2007 when we included our lodging partners in our business with “Stay to Play” as a model. But there were many steps along the way that improved the company to get to that point. Our professional and predictable execution kept us alive for many years. We were just better than our competitors in most every way.

e core concept existed in day one “Build the must attend event that will last for generations and keep tweaking it”. It is still ever present in our mission. I was always and will always be an enthusiastic sharer of ideas. And to the many of you who got excited on “my watch” about these ideas …..thank you. Can I thank you by name like you have honored us by your comments? Not my style as many of you will understand. I had hoped for a book less about us and more about the Triple Crown Sports I vividly see and feel. But that is not how this came out. It is way too much me and us and not enough you. So to all of you who knew you were the ones that built of piece of this legacy…..take personal pride in just knowing you mattered. Staff, officials, field crew, on site staff, support, hotel desk, CVB and the many others. You were the “TEAM” and you knew your role and you did it without a superstar ceremony ever. You got it. Enjoy the pictures and read a little if you like as it will surely trigger smiles and tears. But we created what we all wanted……….“Cherished memories for the many who played and built Triple Crown. Memories of Joy…….Grandeur……Competition…….and Friends.” ose memories will be with each of you and all of them for life. And you will tell the stories to others from your heart. ank you for building this company and mattering to me and all those who enjoyed what we built together.

—Dave King, Founder…. 1982 to 2018

“Never say never.”

—Dave and Annette King

First-ever photo of a soball team, Chicago, 1897

Softball’s Birthday

he date was November 24, 1877. Twenty men warmed themselves in front of the fieldstone fireplace in Farragut Boat Club’s elegant parlor. But the Chicagoans weren’t there to chat about boating or sip Macallan single malt Scotch and puﬀ Cohiba cigars. ey were bitter rivals brought together by a common interest: the Harvard vs. Yale football game. Which team would claim victory that aernoon—Harvard’s crimson pilgrims or Yale’s blue bulldogs? Tension mounted. e telegraph clattered to life: 24NOV1877: Yale defeats Harvard, 17-8. 3:55 p.m. STOP. A cheer exploded from the boys in blue. Bets were paid. A Yalie scooped up an old boxing glove, knotted it into a ball, and threw it—hard—at his opponents. Not to be outdone, a Crimsonite grabbed a broken broomstick and smashed it back. George Hancock, a Chicago Board of Trade reporter, roared, “Play ball!” Within minutes, Hancock chalked oﬀ home plate, bases, and a pitcher’s box in the club’s gymnasium. e dapper Ivy League alumni shed their gray flannel jackets, rolled up their crisp white shirtsleeves, and formed two teams. e contest lasted one hour and ended 41-40. Historians did not record the winning team, but they did christen that blustery anksgiving Day “Soball’s Birthday.” 12.

Official Name

hat spring Hancock took his game outdoors. “Indoor-outdoor,” as it was called, was played on fields too small for baseball. Twenty-inch soballs were fielded barehanded. Wooden bats were fitted with rubber tips. e first rule was simple: e team with the most runs at the end of the game wins. Indoor-outdoor raced around the nation and slid into Minneapolis, Minnesota. ere, Louis Rober, a Minneapolis Fire Department lieutenant, needed a drill to keep his firefighters fit during idle hours. So he marked out a soball field in a vacant lot next to the firehouse. Lieutenant Rober’s one-hour, seven-inning game, played with a small medicine ball, hit it out of the park. When he transferred to another firehouse, he organized a team he called “e Kittens,” and the captain of Truck Company No. 1 named the game kitten ball. Kitten ball was an overnight sensation. Contests drew up to 3,000 spectators. Depending on where it was played, it was known as diamond ball, cabbage ball, pumpkin ball, and even mush ball. e size of the balls, bats, and rules changed as oen as its name.

First Softball Tournament

he 1933 Chicago World’s Fair—A Century of Progress—thrilled the world with fan dancer, Sally Rand; the German airship, Graf Zeppelin; Frank Buﬀ’s wild animal exhibit; and the first-ever soball tournament. Fiy-five teams were divided into three classes. Chicago businessmen raised $500 to promote the contests, and sports pages across the nation provided publicity. e format was single elimination. Admission was free. ree hundred and fiy thousand spectators attended.

Wildfire!

hicago American’s aernoon headline shouted, Soball Sweeps the Country like Wildfire! By 1934, thousands of players, in hundreds of leagues, played in countless tournaments across America. By 2017, twenty-five million players in the United States and millions more around the world were in love. A game started in an elite boating club by preppy football alumni and a beat reporter took on a life of its own.

en, in 1926, thanks to a Denver YMCA exec, the game oﬃcially and finally took on the name soball. When the American Soball Association was founded in 1933, rules were standardized. Men and women played. No one was too young or too old. In 1931, a team of 75-year-old men traveled the country—their uniform was a black-wool business suit, starched white shirt, and red bowtie.

Softball’s first rule was simple: The team with the most runs at the end of the game WINS!

Kitten Ball, 1906 13.

Annette and Dave, 1976

Do It Yourself

ike millions of others, Dave and Annette King loved soball. ey started playing sports when they were just kids, and by the time they were adults they were good—most say “excellent”— slow-pitch soball players. But they were sick and tired of competing in way too many poorly organized tournaments. One weekend Dave muttered, “Enough is enough,” and had it out with the burly tournament director. He shot back, “Look, smart ass, if you think you can build a better tournament, why don’t you do it yourself?” During their four-hour drive home, Dave and Annette discussed the perfect tournament. Aer all, Dave ran his first tournament when he was six. Certainly, that counted as experience. By the time they turned into their driveway they had a plan—of sorts. e problem was they had full-time jobs. And their idea of a perfect tournament was expensive—very expensive.

Players’ Tournament

till, Dave was a dreamer—a guy who thrived on opportunity—a guy destined to accomplish what others could not even imagine. And his wife supported him—no matter what. So in 1982, Dave and Annette ran a trial tournament in Meeker, Colorado. eir “players’ tournament” was so successful that in 1983, they ran three separate tournaments connected by a single scoring system. Complete with $30 Holiday Inn rooms, emblem T-shirts, team picture plaques, bat and equipment bags, personalized satin jackets, and an all-expenses-paid trip to Vegas for grand champions, “Triple Crown” was more an ideal family vacation than a tournament schedule. But the Kings were small-time tournament organizers, doing what they loved and having fun along the way. ey never had a business moment. en, in 1987, Dave and Annette broke their own rules and incorporated a business that was never intended to be a business. It started with slow-pitch soball tournaments held in Colorado and grew to multiple-sports tournaments held internationally. Sure, the business took it on the chin more than once. But it survived its bumps and bruises, and thirty-six years aer its trial tournament in tiny Meeker, Colorado it is led by Dave and Annette’s son, Keri King, a sixthgeneration Coloradoan.

Keri King

No matter how and where the business might expand— how wild and radical it might become— it will stay true to its heritage. It will forever and always “build a better tournament.” e business’s name is Triple Crown Sports. is is its story. is is its legacy. 17.

William Curry KING B: abt 1822 D: 09/May/1905

Wiley Foster KING B: 11/Aug/1842

DAVID KING ANCESTO RS

D: 12/Mar/1927 Nancy Alvalin (Ivie) KING B: abt 1824 D: 22/Oct/1885

Eliza Susan (Hardy) KING B: 14/Apr/1849 D: 22/Apr/1922

Coley Marshall KING B: 28/Mar/1875 D: 20/Feb/1961

Colorado Ranchers &Teachers Anson CALKINS B: 01/Sep/1844 D: 26/Mar/1891

Robert Eugene KING B: : 27/Oct/1928

Agnes Genevieve (Calkins) KING B: 23/Oct/1882

William Gosage DOW B: Feb 1847 D: unknown

Margaret Wilson (Cunningham) DOW B: 1851 D: 1935

John ENNIS B: unknown D: unknown

Ellen (Masterman)CALKINS B: 21/Feb/1846 D: 25/Feb/1928

Herbert DOW B: 26/Aug/1881 D: unknown

Agnes Marie (Ennis) DOW B: 24/Mar/1888 D: 08/Nov/1967

D: 09/Feb/1976

Marvin McCOLLUM B: 11/Oct/1913 D: 14/Mar/1989

Colorado Miners

Colorado Educators

Margaret Anne (McCollum) KING B: 11/Feb/1932

Dorothy Elizabeth (Dow) McCOLLUM B: 27/Feb/1908 D: 19/Mar/1998

ANNETTE (ADAM S) KING ANCESTO RS

Ann (Marko) ENNIS B: abt 1867 D: unknown

Harold Conway ADAMS B: 17/Feb/1874 D: 12/May/1949

Elizabeth Johanna (Butts) ADAMS B: 27/Sep/1873 D: 05/Nov/1946

Herbert Dean ADAMS B: 16/Jul/1910 D: 13/Apr/1975

Colorado Farmers Ozene M (Faulkner) ADAMS B: 30/Jun/1910 D: 22/Apr/1995

Vernon Duane ADAMS B: 14/Feb/1934

Franklin B LAYBOURN B: 25/Oct/1878 D: Sep/1933

Alice L (Mack) LAYBOURN B: 15/Jan/1885 D: Nov/1970

Walter Wayne LAYBOURN B: 17/Aug/1913 D: 08/Apr/1997

Colorado Farmers Laymon Robert MARSHALL B: 03/Jul/1884 D: 1960

Dora Ellen (Petrie) MARSHALL B: 19/Jul/1892 D: 19/Oct/1980

Ruth (Marshall) LAYBOURN B: 16/Apr/1915 D: 24/Jul/1999

Colorado Ranchers

Thelma (Laybourn) ADAMS B: 30/Sept/1937

DAVID & ANNETTE KING FAM ILY DESCENDANTS

Keri Adam KING B: 13/Dec/1979

David Glenn KING B: 07/Aug/1956

Chelsea Nicole (Oâ€™Conner) KING B: 08/Jul/1991

Tully Margaret KING B: 30/Jun/2015

Maybelle Coley KING B: 11/Jun/2017

Kutler Robert KING B: 24/Aug/2004 Kasey David KING B: 28/Jan/1982 Kalen David KING B: 07/Mar/2009

Colorado Sports Business Owners

Kelly Jean (King) SALBERG B: 11/Oct/1983

Kenneth Scott SALBERG B: 18/Aug/78

Mikaelee Ashlynne SALBERG B: 21/Jun/2001

Trenton Blake SALBERG B: 02/Sep/2004

Kallie Paige SALBERG B: 10/Mar/2006 Annette Elaine (Adams) KING B: 16/Oct/1956 Railey Elaine McGARRY B: 24/May/2007

Trinity Ann SALBERG B: 17/Oct/2007

DAVID

ANNETTE K ING FAMILY TREE AND

2018

Triston Christopher SALBERG B: 13/Mar/2016

“Our ancestors shape us.” —Robert Eugene King

Every story starts somewhere. The Triple Crown story starts with the unlikely combination of conservative farmers, migratory ranchers, tough gold miners, and thoughtful educators.

KING, DOW & MCCOLLUM FAMILY LINES

Dave says . . . y grandkids are seventh-generation Coloradoans. at’s almost unheard of in a state called the “Centennial State.” I myself am a fih-generation Colorado native—I was born in Alamosa, Colorado in 1956 and moved to Meeker, Colorado in 1961.

Wiley Foster King & Eliza Sarah Hardy King

Farmers and Educators

y great-great grandfather, William Curry King, came to Colorado with a group of core Kings in 1882. en he returned to Georgia and the Southern Baptists. His son, Wiley Foster King, and Wiley’s wife, Eliza Sarah Hardy King, my great-grandparents, were the first Kings to live permanently in Colorado. ey rode the Union Pacific portion of the nation’s first transcontinental railroad from Lake Larimer in Georgia to Laramie, Wyoming. From there they headed south and ended up in the San Luis Valley of Southern Colorado. A local book includes stories about my great-grandparents. Come to find out, our family’s heritage of farmers and educators goes back to the1800s in Habersham County, Georgia.

22.

Stories

iley Foster King was born August 11, 1842 in Longview, Habersham County, Georgia to William Curry King (1905-unknown) and Nancy Alvalin Ivie (1885-unknown). Wiley’s father taught him to farm, but aer Wiley served in the Civil War, he became a schoolteacher and taught in Virginia where he met Eliza Sarah Hardy. ey were married July 18, 1863. Wiley and Eliza moved back to Georgia. Aer Eliza’s first baby bled to death because the midwife didn’t tie the cord, Eliza became a midwife and even doctored the sick. During the late-1800s, religious missionaries lived with the King family. Wiley and Eliza converted from being Southern Baptists, joined the Mormon Church, and were baptized in the Chattahoochee River. e King’s conversion went against their friends’ and neighbors’ religious beliefs. e angry community members burned the King’s home, killed their livestock, and destroyed their crops. So in 1882, Wiley, Eliza, their children, and two Negro servants joined a migration that ended up in Manassa, Colorado. Eventually, Wiley received a contract to grub Chico brush and willows oﬀ lots in Alamosa County, so he moved his family there. While hauling wood from Mt. Blanca, he found 160 acres he wanted to homestead. Soon aer, he and his sons cleared the land with oxen, built a log cabin, planted an orchard, planted a garden, and bought cattle. In 1891, Wiley filed a claim for homesteaded land and settled his family on Mt. Blanca.

Twenty other families lived in the area in unity. e settlers kept the Spanish name, Urraca (magpie), for their community and all helped build a log house they used for school during the week and church on Sundays. Wiley became president of the Mt. Blanca settlement for both congregations of Methodists and Mormons, at diﬀerent times. Eventually, Wiley moved his family to a log house near the Rio Grande River in Los Cerritos, a religious and Spanish settlement. ere, Wiley and Eliza had three more children. Wiley taught his sons to be good farmers and how to handle horses and oxen. He was strict about his children’s schooling and religion, and saw to it that they could read, write, and spell better than other children. e King children were all musically inclined. eir son, John William “Will” King made his first violin from a cigar box and strings. Eventually, Will bought a nice violin and guitar and played at many square dances. One evening, aer the boys returned from a dance, they were talking to their parents, who were in bed. Wiley looked up and saw a huge rattler on the log above their heads. e boys grabbed pitchforks, stabbed the snake, and threw it in the yard. Back then, in-home rattlers were a way of life for Coloradoans.

Methodists

iley’s son, Coley Marshall King, who ended up being my granddad, played the banjo, guitar, mandolin, violin, harmonica, and organ. He played at community dances, and that attracted my grandmother, Agnes Calkins, to him. ey married. But during their later years she wore thin of his music. My grandmother, Agnes Calkins King, and her family entered Colorado’s San Luis Valley in 1865 by covered wagon. at was about the same time Wiley and his family arrived. e first winter the Calkins stayed nearby the Kings, hunted geese, and saw their Mt. Blanca place. Four years later the Calkins filed a homestead claim for their land.

My great-grandfather, Anson Miller Calkins, who was a Civil War doctor, fairly established Western doctor, and adventuresome soul was Methodist. My greatgrandmother, Ellen Calkins, was Methodist. My grandmother, Agnes Calkins King, was Methodist. at caused some family issues, but in the end the family became Methodists.

Will went on to purchase rights to the Mosca Pass Toll Road and put in long hours keeping the pass open during heavy floods. He charged two dollars per wagon, one dollar for horse and rider, and fiy cents per head for sheep and cattle. irty or forty wagons a day went through the pass. Will also bought rights to run the Montville Post Oﬃce and opened a store where he sold groceries to travelers, cowboys, and prospectors. Eventually, Will and his brother, Wiley Jr., worked for the state highway department where they set out flares each night and brought them in each morning. Eliza passed April 22, 1922; Wiley passed March 12, 1927. ey are buried side by side in the Alamosa Cemetery. ey are remembered for the hardships they endured from moving numerous times, raising a good family, never giving up their beliefs, and continually fighting for their right to the religion of their choice.

Dave’s granddad, Coley Marshall King 23.

Herbert Dow (middle row, leî‚? side) with his semi-pro baseball team

Herbert Dow

Earliest Tie to Sports

erbert “Bert” Dow was my great-granddad on my mother’s side. He was born August 26, 1881 in Illinois. By 1900, he and his family had moved to Denver. Even though I didn’t know my great-granddad, he’s my earliest tie to sports.

Aunt Elsie married George Andreville from New York City, and eventually they moved to California. Aunt Elsie loved baseball and managed to snag season tickets to the Dodger’s games. I’ll never forget sitting in really good seats at Dodger Stadium. For a little boy, that was awesome beyond awesome.

Bert played middle infield for a semi-pro baseball team from 1898 to 1916. He never made the bigs, but he did play ball for a living. Elsie Dow, Bert’s daughter and my great-aunt, told a story about how he managed to get himself into so much trouble he had to change his name and play under various aliases—Pepper Brooks was one.

Aunt Elsie never had kids, so my siblings and I were like her grandkids. Every Christmas she sent a box filled with seven presents, each. We didn’t have much, so we always begged, “Please, please let us open Aunt Elsie’s box—NOW.” e best present Aunt Elsie ever gave me was pictures of my greatgranddad Dow. Before she died she said, “Here. You deserve to have your great-granddad’s pictures.”

My mother told me that when Aunt Elsie was born, she was so small someone said, “Oh, she’s so tiny!” e old family nickname “Tiny” stuck, and she became known as Tiny Dow.

God bless Aunt Elsie—she, too, was bit by the ballpark bug.

Herbert “Bert” Dow a.k.a. “Pepper Brooks” Around 1905

Marvin Giles McCollum & Dorothy Dow McCollum

Tough Gold Miner

arvin Giles “Bob” McCollum, my granddad on my mother’s side, was born in Colorado around 1913. My grandmother, Dorothy Dow McCollum, was born in Colorado in 1908. ey were married in Conejos, Colorado in 1930.

Most likely he learned to be tough as a kid. His mom died when he was young. His dad remarried, but his stepmom and little sister died, so he was independent from then on. He grew up “on the streets,” and as a teenager, he was arrested for stealing tires and spent a year in a juvenile correction facility. Granddad oen said, “If my mother hadn’t died, my life would be diﬀerent.” By the time I got to know Granddad he was foreman at the Kennecott Mine in Nevada—the second largest, open-pit mine in America. I’m sure his toughness rubbed oﬀ on my mother because she was always tougher than her brother.

Conservative

ventually, Granddad divorced my grandmother, Dorothy Elizabeth Dow McCollum. So she lived with and around my family for years and watched me when I was a kid. My grandmother went to Adams State Normal School before she got married, so she probably intended to be a teacher.

Dave’s maternal grandparents, Marvin and Dorothy McCollum, 1958 Granddad was a poor rancher’s kid. To support his family during the Great Depression, he made his way to Nevada and ended up a gold miner. He’d stake a claim then run oﬀ and chase a mine. His tendency to roam didn’t create a stable family life. Truthfully, Granddad McCollum was the toughest sonof-a-bitch anyone ever met. He was only about five-footnine and weighed in at 150 pounds, and with his blue eyes and blonde hair, he looked like a nice enough guy. But he was a terror. My mother tells a story about Granddad walking into a miner’s bar and laying out two miners who were causing problems in his mine. He didn’t break a sweat. en he said, “Anybody else?” 26.

Grandmother Dorothy enjoyed painting and was an excellent pianist. She was forever and always a Methodist and conservative beyond conservative—maybe that’s why she lived to be ninety. Dorothy McCollum is buried in Alamosa Municipal Cemetery next to her son, Herbert Marvin McCollum, who died in infancy.

Wouldn’t Give Up

randdad smoked from age eleven, worked in the mines his entire life, and ended up with only half a lung and a tracheotomy. But he still played golf every day and drug his oxygen tank to my early events. He’d blurt out whatever was on his mind. en we’d play ball. Granddad seemed to live “forever.” He just wouldn’t give up. And to his last breath he never changed one bit.

Respected

Robert King

y dad, Robert King, is from Colorado’s San Luis Valley. e Valley lies at the headwaters of the Rio Grande in South-Central Colorado. It’s famous for its 14,000-foot peaks and Great Sand Dunes. Dad lived an equal distance between one of the peaks and the Dunes. He loved both. Dad was small for his age, but when he was only ten, he climbed from the bottom of the valley to the top of a peak and camped overnight. He loved to fish in Lake Como and play on the slippery rocks in the freezing water of Zapata’s hidden waterfalls. Dad’s parents, Coley and Agnes King, were ranchers. Dad was youngest of their twelve kids, so his siblings babied him. I think they wanted more for him than they had. As it turned out, Dad was the most respected one of all.

Bob King and sister Fae, 1935

I don’t know what turned him loose on education, but he was a cutting-edge educator who became the superintendent of Meeker Schools and eventually received an honorary doctorate from Columbia. Dad got caught up in World War II and joined the Marines at age seventeen. Luckily, the war was over just days before he was supposed to ship out overseas. So he served as a military policeman at Treasure Island in San Francisco Bay, and then got out. at’s when he started his career as a coach and educator.

My dad was the most respected one of twelve children.

Bob King November, 1947

27.

Personal Improvement

New Challenges

ad was my high school track and field coach. He coached with a “personal improvement” system. He’d show up on the field and hand everybody a chart. Our job was to use it to record our improvement points. Nothing was oﬀ limits—even the smallest guy on the team threw the shot put, discus, and javelin.

ad taught me my benchmark is my benchmark. But here’s something I had to learn on my own: Aer I run out of ways to improve in one area, I need to move on to a new challenge.

We’d set self-determined benchmarks, and whenever we improved we gave ourselves a point. e only way to receive a varsity letter on Dad’s team was to earn 100 points. He wasn’t hard on us. He didn’t judge us. Instead, he taught us to look for opportunities. at stuck. I still work on personal improvement. I still try to become a better person tomorrow than I am today.

For instance, I competed in pole vault in college. I tried everything but couldn’t jump much higher than 16 feet. It was really hard on me when I failed to notch victories. is went on two years before a buddy introduced me to the decathlon. e decathlon combines ten track and field events, so I had the chance to improve in each.

Linear Skill Set

ad’s linear skill set is beyond linear. He’s organized beyond organized. Most track and field events are like watching paint dry. ey involve the most complex logistical movement sequencing of any sport, and NEVER start on time. But even before AccuTrack—an automatic measurement system that self-records times— Dad was buttoned up and ready to go. I remember working for Dad during both his high school and Colorado state championship meets. Even when I was a little kid, Dad put me in charge of copying schedules and heats. I’d dip pictures in solution trays then run them oﬀ on a copy machine—and I’d better deliver on time.

Amazing

ad is really good about NOT giving advice. He listens to what I have to say, and then goes about being a good dad. Still, I’m sure he’s proud of what Triple Crown has accomplished. How do I know? He never brags in front of me. Instead, he tells people “in the next room” about me and Triple Crown. Eventually, word gets back to me, and I know that had to come from Dad.

Dave and his father, Bob King, at home in Mosca, Colorado, Easter Sunday, 1959 28.

at’s my dad—steady, honorable, and supportive—in a word “amazing.”

Meeker Track was renamed Bob King Track in appreciation of his twenty-seven years of service to Meeker Schools and their students.

Margaret Ann McCollum King Competitive

Margaret McCollum (far right), 1947

y mom, Margaret Ann McCollum King, was born in 1932. Until she married Dad in 1950 and later settled down in Colorado, she trailed her parents from mine to mine in Nevada’s gold and silver mines where her dad planned to make millions. Her parents went for the moon but never quite got there, so they never had much. Mom wasn’t Loretta Lynn, but she was every bit her. My mother is a real character. She’s nuts about sports—the women’s version of Eddie “e King” Feigner. Mom was way ahead of her times. She played on organized teams in the ’40s and ’50s. When I was only three, I watched her pitch fastpitch soball for a team in Alamosa. We went to bars in Ely, Nevada, asked for donations, and hired a bus to drive to where there might be a team. In a word Mom is “competitive.” When she was in high school, she played on a travel-ball basketball team. As she explains it, around 1944 restrictions on women’s sports started to break, and women had opportunities. en “they”—probably men—came out with tests “proving” sports harmed women’s health. Eventually, Mom became a physical education teacher in Meeker and coached girls’ evening sports activities. When she was sixty-one, she played first base on one of Triple Crown’s very competitive teams, gave it more than her all, and blew out her knee. Twenty-five years later it still gives her problems. But, like always, Mom was out to win. 31.

Women’s Sports

Diehard Athlete

y mother has a huge impact on what I do at Triple Crown: She, not Dad, played catch with me when I was a kid; she brought my great-granddad Dow’s influence all the way down to me. Triple Crown is one of America’s top brands in women’s sports because of Mom.

once coached my mother’s team and enjoyed it even though she caused problems: My sister, Kathy, played shortstop. When Kathy missed a play, Mom hollered at her.

When Title IX passed in 1972, Mom was upset it hadn’t passed sooner so she could play. She was a tough competitor who lined up to win. Mom taught spinning at Triple Crown when she was seventy-nine and would bust chops whenever a girl didn’t really go for it. She played loud music with a beat that really pushed and said, “Ride! I’m over seventy, and I can do it.” Mom led by example.

Mom was brutal. Hard. She loved competing. When I played, Mother followed me. During my event, she was on the field vicariously. She wanted to compete more than anything. at’s my mom—a tough, spirited competitor—a diehard athlete, who can never get enough of sports.

Margaret McCollum King

Mom parlayed her love of women’s sports on to Dad, so he jumped on her bandwagon and started women’s sports programs in Meeker. My wife, Annette, is a perfect example of what Dad’s programs did for women. Even before Title IX, he helped organize Colorado’s first state track and field championships for girls. Annette went to Meeker High School, participated in the events, and won gold medals in the state championships. Mom’s influence continued with me. When I first started coaching, the landmark lawsuit that allowed girls to play Little League hadn’t busted out yet. But I had three girls on every team, so I had to convince the all-boys’ coaches to play against us. I’d say, “Coach, my girls are a problem. Right? Wrong! I’ll tell you what your problem is. You’re afraid my girls will kick your boys’ asses.” Almost without fail the coach would back down and say, “Naw. It’s okay,” and we’d play ball.

Mom was brutal. Hard. She loved competing.

Winning

o doubt I inherited my mother’s love of competing. But I’m not about “pure winning.” To me, winning is a way to measure how far I can take a team. When I take a team far enough as a whole, each member will do more than she ever thought she could. My mother and father don’t understand that they gave me the fundamentals I need to run great competitions—competitions that people want to be part of. ey started me thinking about how important it is to put people in a great environment and oﬀer enjoyable experiences. ank you, Mom and Dad. You are winners. Nice!

32.

Dave and his mom

Annette’s grandparents, Walt and Ruth Laybourn, with their children elma, Harold, and Dora, circa 1944 or ’45

ADAMS & LAYBOURN FAMILY LINES

Annette says . . . oth sides of my family were ranchers and farmers in Colorado and homesteaded land.

Washington County is in the center of Northeastern Colorado. Not much goes on there except farming and ranching. But that’s okay. People are, for the most part, down-to-earth, solid, honest, hard workers—really, really good people.

The Exception Herbert Dean Adams & Ozene M. Faulkner Adams ut there’s always the exception. My grandmother,

Farmers

erbert Dean Adams and Ozene Faulkner Adams were my grandparents on my dad’s side. My grandfather was born in Kansas and my grandmother was born in Arkansas. ey moved to Anton, Colorado in 1943. Once there, they ran cattle and farmed wheat and corn with a team of horses. Anton is a tiny unincorporated community in Washington County. It has more cattle and horses per square mile than people.

Ruth Marshall, was from a family of twelve kids, and her father, Laymon Robert Marshall, abandoned them all. As the story goes, one day, a traveling salesman tried to buy my grandmother’s “beautiful little sister, Mildred.” And her father said, “You can’t buy Mildred, but I will give you Ruth.”

Family Oriented

uth’s mother—we called her Grandma Marshall— raised twelve kids all alone. Times were tough, so she farmed out her teenage boys so the family could eat.

Walter Laybourn & Ruth L. Marshall Laybourn

Eventually, Grandma Marshall married a man by the name of August Nelson. By then Grandma was done with kids, so they never had any of their own. August came to family functions, but everybody le him alone and never treated him like a grandfather.

My grandparents were very religious, so Sunday was an important day. Every Sunday, aer church, the entire family went to their house for a huge dinner. It seemed to me their house was gigantic—two stories, big kitchen, and big dining room. It was well kept, and I thought it was beautiful. It was so much fun to be with my cousins, aunts, and uncles. Everything was family oriented, and that’s nice.

Really Good People

alter Laybourn farmed and sheared sheep for a living. He married Ruth Marshall, and they became my grandparents on my mom’s side. As the story goes, Ruth’s mother, my great-grandmother, traveled from Missouri to Colorado in a covered wagon in the early 1900s.

My grandparents farmed and ranched near Cope, Colorado. Cope is another tiny unincorporated Colorado community. It’s in Washington County about twenty miles from Anton. Not more than a hundred people lived in either Anton or Cope, and it isn’t much diﬀerent today.

People in Northeastern Colorado are down-to-earth, solid, honest, hardworkers— really, really good people.

35.

Vernon Duane Adams & Thelma Laybourn Adams

Into Sports

Family First

y mom, elma Laybourn Adams, was born in 1937. She grew up in Cope, Colorado. My dad, Vernon Duane Adams, was born in 1934. He grew up in Anton, Colorado. Cope and Anton were part of a central school system that covered about 600 square miles. Kids came from all over, so that’s how my parents ended up going to high school in Arickaree School District No. R-2. My mother rode a horse to school for three years before the school bus system started.

hen you’re a kid, whether you realize it or not, you emulate your grandparents and parents. I learned about “family first” back when I was just a kid, and that carries over today, both with my own family and Triple Crown’s values. My mom was, and still is, a wonderful grandmother. I am too, and that’s nice.

ey were both into sports from early on. My dad played basketball, pitched club fastpitch soball, and loved all sports. My mom was right in there with him, but she grew up during the ’40s, and that was an era when girls didn’t play many sports. ey were allowed to play half-court basketball, so Mom was on the girls’ basketball team.

Vicky, Annette, elma, Debbie, and Duane Adams, 1974

Duane Adams with his vintage Chrysler Limited, 1971 36.

Vicky, Annette, and Debbie in front of their Meeker home, 1974

Annetteâ€™s parents, Duane and î ˘elma Adams, 2007

Adams family, Meeker, Colorado, Christmas, 1983

GENERATION SIX LOOKS BACK

Epigenetics Keri says . . .

Vulnerability and Trust

couldn’t agree more: Ancestors do shape lives. We bear our ancestors’ benefits and burdens. I mean, look at epigenetics—the scientific study of biological mechanisms that switch genes oﬀ and on but don’t change the DNA sequence. For instance, my dad and I have FOMO—fear of missing out. For us, it’s a real phenomenon, and I’m confident it stems from our family’s risk-taking heritage—we want to seize every moment, no matter what the challenge. Epigenetics is a powerful tool that will help me, Triple Crown’s CEO, understand employees’ acting-out behaviors and deal with them in a professional manner. I promise to spend time uncovering their families’ histories through their personal stories. I’ll go first and share my family’s intimate story via Triple Crown’s business story. When I go to great lengths to share personally, I become vulnerable and that encourages others to do the same. It builds trust. Vulnerability and trust start from the top.

Challenge Improvement

hat follows directly aer is to challenge improvement. If I don’t issue that challenge and specify how the acting-out behavior must change, I’m not doing my job as a leader—I’m not giving the person the opportunity to advance either laterally or up the ladder. Certainly, understanding and empathy are important. But they’re not enough—alone they simply placate.

Pioneering

ioneering is a key element in our family’s history. Whether it’s pioneering the West or a new business, it will most likely continue on down our family line. Personally, I’ll use our pioneering spirit to advance Triple Crown. 38.

Blaze My Own Trail

Kasey says . . .

Gramp’s World

am most influenced by my grandpa, Duane Adams. He’s a shop guy—always tinkering with his cut-oﬀ tools, four wheelers, snowmobiles, classic trucks, and souped-up cars. His world is all about the evolution of something nice in the automotive world. Even as a young kid, I was attracted to Gramp’s world. Now I’m that guy, and we share a level of excitement each time we see each other. When I say, “Hey, Gramps, what’s going on with your truck?” it wakes up his mind and we get into it. He gets excited, pulls me out to his shop, and shows me what he’s got going on with his new truck and his commercial trucks that date back to the 1920s. Gramps still has the vehicle they drove all the way from Kansas to Colorado. He stores it along with his tractors, combine, and other vehicles in a gigantic Quonset. It sat there “forever” until he rebuilt it. It’s hard to describe the moment Gramps discovered eBay. It blew his mind when he realized he could locate original parts from 1930s Ford commercial trucks and have them shipped clear across the country. It’s really exciting to see him—a senior in his mid-80s—go through the evolutionary process of technology and use it for his own needs and wants.

Kindness

randma elma Adams influenced my life through her kindness. She was always there to have us over in the summer or at Christmastime. For as long as I can remember, come December 25th, my entire family showed up at the Adams’ house. It was a rhythm that made me feel really good. When I got into my twenties and wasn’t always around for Christmas, I missed out on something important.

Cars

y King grandparents influenced my love of cars. My grandpa, Bob King, took me on the road in his Vista Cruiser and taught me how to drive a stick shi. It was diﬃcult, but he spent time with me until I learned. My grandma, Margaret, had a fancy car—a Lexus GS30—that she asked me to keep clean and tight. She even let me use it to drive a girl to the prom.

I like that Margaret wears her emotions on the outside more than anyone else in my family line. She’s supernice, but we can count on her crying or getting pissed oﬀ about one thing or another. It’s refreshing to know that everything isn’t always hunky-dory. Bob maintains silence. He’s reserved. He takes things as they come and stays in a rhythmic pattern I can count on. If I ask for guidance he gives as much or as little as I want—the level depends on how I look at him, my mannerisms, and how well I listen.

My Parents

s a kid, you don’t think about what or why your parents do what they do. But as an adult, I recognize Dad taught me to keep it moving and helped me understand the ups and downs of success. Mom is a nice person. She always provides as much as she can to everybody around her. She taught me the importance of kindness. When I was about eight, we took a family vacation to Meeker. While there, we went to the Sleepy Cat restaurant, ate gigantic steaks, then hiked to the South Fork Caves, and raed down the river. A large, downed tree spanned the river. My cousin made it over the log without any problems. But when it came my turn a branch flipped me oﬀ my ra and pushed me six feet down to the bottom of the river.

I saw small fish swimming in the clear water. I hit rocks on the riverbed. I struggled for air. I was sure I was a goner. en, out of nowhere, without a moment’s hesitation, Mom flew down the hill, dove headfirst into the river, swam down, and scooped my ass back to safety. anks, Mom. Your kindness literally saved my life.

Different Character

ven though my grandparents and parents influence me in some ways, I’m a diﬀerent character. I almost feel like an outsider in my own family. And that’s probably because I want to blaze my own trail.

Hard Work Kelly says . . .

Bottom Line

ertainly ancestors influence our lives. We learn from what they do—both good and bad. On my mom’s side, we have farmers and ranchers. ey work with their hands. On my dad’s side, we have miners and educators. ey work hard, too. But educators work more with their minds. Hard work is the bottom line— it’s handed down through the generations, both sides.

Pioneering spirit. Kindness.

Hard work. 39.

“My wife was, and still is, my star player.” —Dave King

Dave says . . .

Lucky Me

Best Jock

was born in 1956 in Alamosa, Colorado. My sister, Laurie, is two years older; my sister, Kathy, is two years younger; my little brother, Coley, is thirteen years younger. Lucky me. Dad allowed me to do the same things he did when he was a kid. We’d get up early and go hunting before Dad le for work. At age ten, he dropped me oﬀ in the mountains, and I camped four or five days before he picked me up. I loved to fish in Marvine Creek.

Laurie, Kathy, and Dave, 1959

42.

Dave and Granddad Coley King, 1956

First Event

ven as a kid, I loved to organize. I made plans, and my friends followed my lead. We might head to the playground or climb the “China walls” behind our house in Meeker. I ran my first event when I was six. Before it even started, I cleared honeybee hives and cones out of our garage. en I fastened a six-foot hoop to a back wall, and ten contestants played half-court basketball. At halime I served graham crackers covered with chocolate icing. Next up were hurdles, followed by running full speed down a path and leaping into the long jump pit I dug. When the local star won everything, the crowd (local kids having a great time) cheered and whooped it up. I was determined to run the best event ever. You never know when you might be on to something big.

Kirk says . . .

Watch Out

ave always had the guts to start, the gumption to grow, and the grit to finish. Once he makes up his mind—watch out. When we were kids we played marbles against each other. Sometimes he won all my marbles. Sometimes I won all his. But he usually won them back. I’ve lost my marbles to Dave King several times during our fiy-plus years together.

Dave always had the guts to start, the gumption to grow, and the grit to finish.

Dave says . . .

Best Jock

y family moved to Meeker when I was in the fih grade. I came down with either rheumatic or scarlet fever and missed thirty-six days of school my first year. But from sixth through twelh grades I had perfect attendance. I wasn’t a mouthy kid, but I was vocal. When some guy chipped away at another guy, I was the first to stick up for him. I wasn’t afraid of anybody or anything. When I was just thirteen, I ran the projector at the local movie theatre. Aer I shut down the theatre, I washed dishes at the toughest bar in town. I was a good student—very sharp—so all the teachers liked me. I won spelling bees on the local level, but when I competed on the state level I got beat up pretty bad. Even though I was smart and did well academically, all I wanted was to be the best jock in town. Much to my disappointment I didn’t graduate number one in my class. My name was sewn onto the honor cape. I was ready to hand it oﬀ. But some out-of-town kid, who’d been credited with A plus grades, passed me by. And just like that one hundred years of tradition hit the fan.

Baseball

y first distinct memory-moment of sports was when I was about three. Dad coached high school basketball, football, and track. When his teams played away games, he hauled me along on the bus. Dad never got mad. But I remember him mouthing oﬀ to an oﬃcial during a basketball tournament and getting slapped with a technical foul. My first organized sport was baseball. Meeker had a summer baseball program called “OTA” that was run by the Old-timers Association. I was seven years old and fell in love immediately. I loved the structure, practices, games, competition—just everything. To this day, nothing has changed. 43.

î ˘ree-year-old Dave King sits on sidelines watching his dad coach six-man football

Daveâ€™s father (back row, far right) coach of six-man football team, Sangre De Cristo High School, 1959

Dave, 1965

Dave with slow-pitch team, Meeker, 1974

Silver

Kirk says . . .

hen Dave and I were kids, our houses were only about a hundred yards apart, and we were best buds. We’d jump on our bikes and ride about a mile to baseball practice. Some days we rode Silver, my little gray Shetland pony, and tied him to a fence during practice. More oen than not Silver broke loose, and we spent the next couple hours running around town looking for him.

Dave says . . .

Work Harder

hen I got into high school, I ran cross country in the fall, played basketball in the winter, and ran track and played baseball in the spring. Every aernoon I’d go to baseball practice and then head over to track practice. e only reason I didn’t play football was I was small for my age—less than five foot tall and weighed eighty-two pounds when I was a high school freshman. 46.

Meeker is a mountain town full of tough guys. So as the smallest kid in the entire school and the son of the superintendent and a teacher, I got worked over more than once. But I ignored it and continued to work harder than any other guy on every team. I was the guy who wanted to be really good, but I didn’t have the raw speed, jump, or size. My folks started me in school a year early because they couldn’t handle me— I wanted more stimulation. So not only was I small, I was young compared to my classmates. I was one of the better guys on the track and baseball teams, but I was a backup guard on the basketball team, and that bothered me because I thought I was good enough to start.

As the smallest kid in the

entire school and the son of the superintendent and a teacher,

I got worked over more than once.

at summer I asked her out on a date. She had lots of fun, but she blew through my hard-earned money in record fashion. Plus, when I tried to hold her hand during the movie, she scooted over to the other side of her seat. I thought: is is NOT happening. en, lucky me, a couple years later we started dating. From then on, we were on the same page. As it turned out, I ended up coaching a competitive soball team with Annette, my mother, and my sister all on the roster.

Dave with NBA Hall of Famer Oscar Robertson, Denver, 1972 Kirk says . . .

Never Gives Up

hen I was in high school, my family moved to Rifle, Colorado where I went out for cross country. Rifle competed against Meeker. Lots of really skilled guys ran for both teams. But I didn’t care who I beat as long as his name was David King. During one meet I was in front of Dave from the git-go. I stayed in front of him until the last twenty-yard uphill finish. I stumbled. Dave passed me. But that’s Dave—he never gives up.

Annette was a great athlete. She could do about anything she wanted to do. Unlike me, she didn’t believe a valiant eﬀort was a valiant eﬀort. She believed if she wasn’t first, why bother. (Over the years she changed her tune, but that was her original concept.)

Sheep

y parents wanted me to go to college right out of high school. Instead, I hitchhiked across America and Europe, then bought a car and traveled through Asia on my own. ey weren’t particularly happy with me, but they were all about learning and supported my inquisitive nature. I was hard on my educator parents. I’d say, “Students don’t care about much. ey don’t make demands. ey’re like sheep following each other through a tunnel, hoping they don’t get shot before they make it out the other end.”

Never, ever count Dave King out. He’s scrappy beyond scrappy and has more try than anyone I’ve ever met. Sure he’s smart. Lots of people are smart. But Dave combines brains with determination and gets it done—even when it’s just steps before the finish line.

Cooking Class Dave says . . .

hen I was a high school sophomore, a buddy and I took a home ec cooking class. We figured cooking was a good skill to pick up, and we got to eat during the aernoon. Even better, all the good-looking girls took home ec. I knew Annette when we were in elementary school, but I first noticed her in cooking class.

Dave, India, 1974

47.

Dave King, Practice Pole Vault, Spring, 1977

Pole Vault Record

hen I got back from my world trip, I received a scholarship to Mesa State College where I became a pole vaulter—I still hold the fieen-foot, oneinch pole vault record. When I was a junior, a buddy led me to the decathlon at University of Northern Colorado—UNC—in Greeley, Colorado. I fell in love and ended up a Division II All-American in the decathlon.

Kirk says . . .

Sheer Determination

ave was just a little guy when he graduated high school. en he decided he wanted to pole vault. Pole vaulters need strength and speed. So Dave became a technician—he lied weights and figured out how to run faster. rough sheer determination he became really good at something he didn’t have the body for. But that’s typical Dave King. He’s an overachiever who works hard to overcome obstacles.

Know What You’re Doing Dave says . . .

nnette started Mesa State the same year I did. Of course, I showed up to watch her try out for the girls’ basketball team. On about the fourth night, the coach said, “Dave, I’m going to be late to practice. Will you throw out the balls?” I did. But I got tired of waiting, so we ran a couple drills. When the coach finally showed up, she pulled me oﬀ to the side and said, “Do you have more drills up your sleeve?” My dad was a basketball coach, so I called him and said, “Looks like this coach needs a little help. What do you think?” He said, “Just make sure you know what you’re doing.” So I called Dad every night. One thing led to another, and I ended up with an assistant coach’s contract for a women’s varsity college basketball team. Even better, my then-girlfriend was my star player. My now-wife is still my star player.

“At the year-end athletic banquet at Mesa State College in

Grand Junction, David King was recognized for his outstanding achievements in track

and was voted the team’s

outstanding athlete of the year.”

—Mesa State Athletic Program,1975

49.

Grain elevators, Flagler, Colorado

Annette says . . .

Didn’t Have Much

It’s All Good

was born in 1956 in the tiny town of Flagler, Colorado—its population never goes much over five hundred. Flagler is in Kit Carson County right in the middle of a huge area of farms and ranches. My sister, Debra, is two years older; my sister, Vicky, is four years younger. When I was really little, my family lived in a trailer next to my dad’s parents—Grandpa and Grandma Adams. When I got older, my family rented a home from my mom’s parents—Grandpa and Grandma Laybourn. We had a Shetland pony that my dad, sister, and I rode to their house, stopped for cookies, and rode back home. ere wasn’t enough work on my grandparents’ ranches, so Dad worked for the state highway department. We didn’t have much, but life was good.

Annette, age three, 1959 50.

Mayberry

Love to Win

hen I was ten, my family moved to Meeker—a tiny town way up in Colorado’s mountains. I had asthma real bad and had to work hard just to breathe the thin air, so Deb hauled me around in a wagon.

wasn’t a particularly good student—middle of the road—that was me. But I was very good in sports. I simply loved playing. My sister, Deb, and I were good runners, so we went out for Meeker’s track team.

Meeker was a whole new experience. It had lots more people than we were used to—around two thousand—but that didn’t make it a big town. e best way to describe Meeker is to tell you it was like Andy Griﬃth’s Mayberry. Dad played fastpitch. My sisters and I rode our bikes everywhere, swung on our swings, and played games.

I ran the 100-yard dash and the 220-yard dash and did well in both events. My time in the 220 was around 27.9 seconds, which was really fast. en Deb ran the 440-yard dash. Her time was 59 seconds, which was really, really fast. Deb and I ran the 880-leg medley relay together.

My sisters and I were fast little kids who won races even when we were in elementary school. Even though Dad was “old,” he loved to race us. We got even faster when we were in high school, but Dad still beat us. During summers, when we were in high school, Dave’s sister, Kathy, Deb, and I worked a half day teaching grade school kids or raking our neighbors’ leaves. en almost every aernoon we floated down the river. Our life was really great.

Back then, divisions were diﬀerent, so teeny-tiny Meeker competed against schools as large as Denver. People were amazed that Deb and I usually beat everybody. By the time I was fieen, girls were allowed to play slowpitch soball. I was very excited. is was before I was old enough to drive, so Dad drove us to Craig or wherever we played. At first I played outfield. en our coach moved me to infield and finally into pitching. Our home field was the high school field—very rough so the ball took lots of bad hops. But I was fast and could field and catch well. When I got older, I played on an all-girls’ championship team sponsored by the local newspaper—Meeker Herald. Dave’s mom played on the same team. We were so excited when they gave us T-shirts with their name on the front. One reason I love sports is they’re social—they’re about a team of individuals playing together as one. It’s always much easier and more fun to win with a group than it is to win alone. I’m competitive and love to win, but winning a race didn’t mean as much as winning a relay or a soball game. at was fun. at was the good stuﬀ.

Vicky, Debra, and Annette with Grandpa and Grandma Laybourn, 1970

One reason I love sports is they’re social.

51.

Annette, 1973

Annette top of Gold Medal Stand, Colorado State Track Meet, 1974

Jock

was a jock before girls were jocks. But in small-town Meeker, nobody “talked about” girls who loved to play. It was just the opposite. Game days were big-deal days. It didn’t matter if you were that boy or that girl— good athletes were rewarded. Nobody made fun of girls who could run faster or jump higher than boys. Everybody thought you were cool. If anything, girl (and boy) athletes had a huge advantage. My class had fiy kids—thirty-eight boys and twelve girls. Girls had to wear dresses every day except Friday. Not fair. So one girl petitioned the school board and ramrodded through a rule allowing girls to wear pants whenever. Dave’s dad was our superintendent and his mom was a teacher. It helped that they were both very progressive and eager to promote girls’ sports and girls’ equality in general. Dave’s dad started girls’ sports in Meeker before Title IX broke and pushed other schools to do the same. Lucky me—I benefited from his eﬀorts.

Annette playing with her mother and father in the Parent Player Game, Meeker, 1974

Annette, Meeker’s basketball team

Straight Up

er I graduated high school, I went to Mesa State for two years then went on to UNC in Greeley. I lettered in basketball both years at Mesa and one year at UNC. Even though I’m only five-eight—short for basketball— I played center. We had one tall girl on our team, but when Coach saw I could jump three feet, straight up, she put me in as center.

Even though

I’m short for basketball, I played center.

54.

Mesa College, 1st Ever Women’s Team, 1975-76, Annette, fourth from right

“The women’s game is now basically the same as the men’s. Some differences include: no restriction on going over the center line and back (no back-court); no 10 second areas; plus we have a 30 second clock similar to the men’s pros, such that a shot must be attempted within 30 seconds of gaining possession of the ball or the ball is turned over to the other team. Mesa’s women’s basketball is proving as exciting as the men’s with the women following suit and expecting to place high in their conference.”

Relief

—Mesa State College, 1976

ur team was, at best, an average college team. is was during the early years of Title IX. Girls’ basketball was so new our coaches had never played and had no experience coaching. ey did their best, but they coached based on what they read in a book.

I’d played basketball my senior year in high school, and we had two great coaches who taught us a lot. So going from a program with coaches who really knew what they were doing into a program where coaches had no idea wasn’t the best. One thing led to another, and lucky for us, Dave started coaching our team. What a relief that was. Dave had played basketball. He knew the rules. He knew how to substitute. He simply knew how to coach. 56.

This Way; That Way

ave and I had dated since we were fieen years old, but having him for my coach wasn’t weird. We never had any problem with the boyfriend teaching the girlfriend what to do thing—at least in basketball. Dancing was another story. Dave and I loved to dance, so we took a dance class together. e teacher only taught one thing—how to lead. But when Dave and I danced together, he expected me to follow. I’d say, “NO! NO! at’s not right. We’re supposed to dance this way.” He’d say, “NO! NO! at’s not right. We’re supposed to dance that way.” Eventually, our “this way; that way” disagreements got so awful we didn’t like to dance anymore.

Really Something Else

first noticed Dave when I was in the fih grade and he was in the sixth grade. David Hurlbut was the smartest kid in fih grade, and David King was the smartest kid in sixth grade. But who was the smartest kid in the entire school? A contest was the only way to find out. David King and David Hurlbut faced-oﬀ in a math competition. I don’t remember which David won, but I do remember I thought David King was really something else. Shortly aer, Dave and I ended up taking walks and just talking. I thought he was nice, so when I was a fieenyear-old freshman we started dating. at spring he asked me to the Glenwood Strawberry Days Dance. We had to ride with my sister, Deb, and her boyfriend because Dave wasn’t old enough to drive. During the summer we dated a few times before Dave dumped me for another girl he thought he liked better. Before long, he came to his senses and realized he’d better stick with me. He was lots of fun, so I took him back.

Dave with big catch, Marvine Creek, Summer, 1974 We went to Lyons Canyon and rolled rocks. We went fishing. We drove around for hours then stopped at Circle K, and he bought me a pop. When we really wanted to do it up right, we drove to Rifle or Grand Junction and went to a movie. Or we might go up river to the Sleepy Cat restaurant and dance. It was all normal, little teenage stuﬀ—really sweet.

Teacher’s College

ave graduated high school a year ahead of me. His dream was travel, so he le Meeker and went to Europe and India on money he’d saved up. at was way before cell phones or texting, so the only way we could communicate was to write letters back and forth. at was hard. To pass the time I dated a couple other boys, but it wasn’t anything serious.

When Dave came back, we picked up from where we le oﬀ and decided to go to college together. Aer two years at Mesa State we had to choose between UNC and Pueblo. I wanted to be a teacher and UNC was a good teacher’s college. Dave had scholarship opportunities at both schools, so we ended up at UNC. 57.

David and Annette King June 3, 1977

After

uring our junior year Dave said, “It’s time we got married.” I was thrilled, so we drove to Denver and picked out my ring. at was easy. Announcements were hard. In March, we went to the local high school basketball tournament. Dave’s folks were there, and during the entire tournament he worried about how to tell them we were engaged. Almost worse, he had to ask my dad for permission to marry his daughter—aer he’d already asked me! But it all worked out just fine. It was meant to be. We got married at twenty-one, had Keri at twenty-three, Kasey at twenty-five, and Kelly at almost twenty-seven. Now, forty years later and counting, we have ten grandchildren. It’s all good.

Keri, Kasey, and baby Kelly with their cousins, Christmas, 1983

“Dave and I knew our ideas were out there. But if it meant having fun, we were in.” —Annette King

Tournament: Craig, Colorado Style Over the Top Dave says . . .

ack in the early ’80s, Annette and I played competitive slow-pitch soball. We loved the game. We were passionate about playing with our friends. But we did not love playing in way too many poorly organized tournaments.

I was embarrassed because I’d specially invited my team to play in what I thought would be a great tournament. As it turned out we spent lots of time in a tiny Coleman RV swigging beer between innings. I was also disappointed because I’d been trained by Ray Coca, the parks and rec director who mentored me during my college recreation internship. Ray taught me what he knew, and then cut me loose to run the ASA national championship. I knew how to run a great tournament. I knew how much fun it was to run a great tournament—when it was done right.

e tournament that put us over the top was held in June of 1982 in Craig, Colorado. Craig is a rugged coalmining town in Northwest Colorado. Back when I was fourteen, my parents let me to go to Craig every Wednesday to play on their soball team. So I felt like I was going home.

You’re OUT!

e local team, Inside Edge, ran the tournament. e field—a fourplex called “Loudy-Simpson”—was new. It had no grass, lots of weeds, and more sand than the Great Sand Dunes. Organizers forgot (Can you say “neglected”?) to drag the field.

y 1982, I’d moved to Grand Junction and formed a team. We knew if we wanted to make it into big-time soball, and we did, we had to beat a really good team. Lucky us. We were scheduled to play the Meeker boys. We wanted to win—I mean, we really wanted to win.

Teams were slotted into one division so Inside Edge didn’t have to cough up money for multiple awards. Oﬃcials were guys from Inside Edge who pulled on blue shirts when they weren’t playing. e list went on. Basically, the entire tournament lacked TLC.

Four Polish-Catholic brothers—the Nieslanik boys— played on my team. Back in Meeker, I had dinner with their family two nights a week and played playground ball with them every day. If I could’ve joined any other family, it would’ve been the Nieslanik family.

62.

All eight kids were great. eir mother was killed in an auto accident, but they never moaned and groaned when things didn’t go their way. And the boys happened to be tremendous athletes who lined up to win. Naturally, I wanted the Nieslanik brothers on my roster. Joe Nieslanik was the youngest, but he was the best athlete. We counted on him to bring it home. Joe stepped to the plate. He eyeballed the pitcher. He clobbered the ball. He raced the bases—first—second—third. He was on his way home. e bullpen went wild. All Joe had to do was slide into home. What the . . .?? He jumped over the catcher and landed on the plate. e umpire roared, “You’re OUT!” Steve Nieslanik charged the field. Steve was a stocky guy, who sported a huge handlebar moustache—intimidating to say the least. By then, Joe and the umpire were arguing nose to nose. Nobody was going to mess with Steve’s little brother, especially an umpire who played for the opposing team. Steve tackled the umpire and by happenstance Joe. e three of them ended up pinned to the ground in a big pile at home plate. e umpire untangled himself, stumbled to his feet, threw out Joe and Steve, called the ballgame, and slapped us with our first loss. BTW: Jumping the catcher is NOT illegal.

Rich said, “To raise money for my team.” I said, “Yeah! Exactly right. You don’t give a damn about providing a good product. It’s all about you.” Rich leaned down, grabbed me by my shoulders, and said, “Look, King, if you think you can do it any f . . . ing better, do it yourself!”

Respect

ich and I went way back. He owned the toughest miner’s bar in Northwest Colorado. He was a bull of a guy—so threatening bar patrons oen mistook him for the bouncer.

One night I, along with everybody else from Meeker, ended up in Rich’s bar aer a state high school basketball tournament. Both the longhairs and the cowboys were drinking—a lot. I had to pee, but the line to the bathroom was too long. So I stepped out to the used car lot behind the bar and relieved myself. Feeling much better I returned to the bar, sat on my stool, and ordered another beer. Before it even arrived, Craig’s policemen surrounded me. ey yanked my arms behind my back, slapped on handcuffs, arrested me, hauled me off to jail, and charged me with running on car roofs. One thing led to another, and they finally figured out my boot prints didn’t match the boot prints on the cars. But I wasn’t off the hook—they arrested me for public urination.

My boys were riled up: at was a bang play! Not fair! We headed straight to the camper, tipped a few . . . tipped a few more . . . and planned our strategy. Simple: We drew Meeker for the next game, so we decided to confuse the umpires by mixing and matching jerseys— half our team wore Meeker jerseys; the other half wore Grand Junction jerseys.

By then, it was three o’clock in the morning. I had no idea how to get out of this mess. e jailhouse door opened. Rich walked in. He said, “Let this boy go,” and handed over bail money.

It worked. e umpires were livid, threw us out, and gave the win to the Meeker boys.

I had lots of respect for Rich. Besides that, he reminded me of my granddad and my mother.

Look, King

nough! I tracked down Rich Brander, the tournament organizer. Rich was a heavy-drinking, tough coal mine foreman. He stood six-five and weighed in at 250 pounds. I was a skinny little guy. But I puﬀed up and said, “You know, Rich, the facility sucks. e umpires are horrible. e schedule is unfair. Why bother?”

I couldn’t help but wonder: Maybe Rich was just being honest with me? Maybe he’s right? Maybe I SHOULD run my own tournament?

I wondered: Maybe Rich is right? Maybe I SHOULD run my own tournament.

63.

Players’ Tournament

Brainstorm

ack then, it took four hours to drive from Craig to Grand Junction where Annette and I lived. So we had lots of time to talk. We asked ourselves, “What is the perfect tournament?” Our answer was, “A players’ tournament—a tournament that centers around players not promoters.” I said, “Let’s brainstorm a model.”

√ Many ways to win (Note: Everybody wants to win something.) √ Performance-based awards (Note: Consider team bat and equipment bags and personalized jackets.) √ BIG trophies (Note: Up to six feet tall.) √ BIG award for the champion (Note: Oﬀer what no other tournament oﬀers: all-expenses-paid trip to Vegas.)

I drove. Annette scribbled our list: √ Destination locations (Note: Even teams that lose will want to come back.) √ ree events (Note: Like Triple Crown in horseracing, consider Grand Junction, Meeker, and Steamboat Springs. Events will be tied together with points.) √ Family vacation atmosphere (Note: Families that play together stay together.) √ Local attractions (Note: FUN!) √ Local establishments must be able to handle lots of excited people (Note: Friends, grandparents, parents, kids, babies, and pets will attend.) √ Social (Note: Include bands, dancing, music, drinks, and soball talk—campfire atmosphere.) √ Spin events (Note: Include adventures, competitions, auctions, and parties.) √ Refreshments (Note: Include both adult- and kidfriendly food and beverages everywhere.) √ Meaningful mementos (Note: Consider T-shirts, emblems, plaques, and posters.)

√ Men’s, women’s, and coed games on the same weekend (Note: Different segments will encourage family attendance.) √ Excellent communication about schedules, weather, and updates (Note: is will add to our credibility.) √ Consistent (Note: People expect what they expect.) √ Predictable (Note: If it ain’t broke don’t fix it.) √ Professional (Note: Provide onsite directors, staff, and professional paid officials.) √ No organizer profits; no “worthy causes” (Note: All funds will be returned to the players—players’ dreams come true.) √ Financial support for teams that move up (Note: Must attract 180 teams, minimum.) List complete, we drove into our driveway, sat in the car, and reviewed our ideas. Many were unconventional. But one thing we knew for sure: Our perfect players’ tournament was not intended to be a business—there wasn’t a single business moment. It was simply two people, having fun, doing what they loved, and doing it better than anyone else.

65.

Do It

Give It a Shot

Time Was Right

We Were In

Dave says...

Annette says . . .

t the time I was renting an executive suite in Costello & Nieslanik’s accounting firm. Come Monday morning I ran our ideas by my oﬃcemates, Steve Costello and Steve Nieslanik.

ave and I got in the car aer his team was kicked out of the Craig tournament, and all the way home to Grand Junction we talked about how horrible it was that we could never do anything together on the same weekend. It was either a men’s tournament or a women’s tournament, and we had to figure out what to do with our young son, Keri, and our infant son, Kasey.

Both Steves were CPAs. Both Steves had good heads on their shoulders. Both Steves were avid ballplayers. Both Steves had played on my team in Craig. What followed was like an Abbott and Costello skit without Abbott: Me: What do you think about it? Nieslanik: ere’s nothing wrong with it. Do it. Costello: Yeah. Do it.

Dave and I have a way of thinking about something on our own. en when we say whatever out loud, it’s exactly what the other one was thinking. at’s exactly what happened when we brainstormed our players’ tournament. We agreed on everything. With every mile, we both got more and more excited. Aer I put the boys to bed, Dave looked at me and said, “We can do this. We should do this.”

Me: Well, we better test it then. With that, the time was right to set “it” in motion.

I said, “Let’s give it a shot.” We knew our ideas were out there. But if it meant having fun, we were in. With that, we decided to run a trial tournament in Meeker.

Dave and I have a way of thinking about something on our own. .

Then when we say whatever out loud, it’s exactly what the other one was thinking.

66.

“The people of Triple Crown Sports are the true heros.” —Dave King

70.

71.

72.

“The best is yet to come.” —Dave King, 2018

73.

“Triple Crown was formed by lots of good people and a solid business plan.” —Dave King

First Triple Crown Tournament Ever, Irwin Field, Meeker, Colorado, 1982 Coed Champions, Big A Auto Parts, from Craig, Colorado

Dave says . . .

Warriors

What’s Next?

ess than six weeks aer the Craig tournament, Annette and I ran a trial tournament in Meeker. We didn’t have any money, so we had to count on registration fees. Lucky us. irty-two teams paid. Tiny Meeker only had two motels and one hotel, but we got everybody situated.

ere was only one baseball field in town, so I talked my dad into letting me build portable soball fields on the junior and senior high football fields. Another checkmark. We started Friday night’s kickoﬀ party with a Calcutta auction. at was a tremendous success. It got better when we convinced the local liquor store to sponsor kegs of beer. We ended the evening like warriors, sitting around the campfire, telling stories, and drinking beer. I thought: is is everything Annette and I want. What’s next?

76.

No Problem

Triple Crown

Dave says . . .

Name

Annette says . . .

ur stretch dream was to send championship teams to Las Vegas. I did some quick math and figured if we took forty bucks oﬀ each team’s entry fee, 180 teams had to enter. I said to Annette, “We really want to do this, but I’ve never seen a tournament this size. What do you think?” Annette said, “We’ll run three tournaments, tie them together with a point system, and end up with a grand champion in each division. Simple.” Like always, my wife and partner was with me.

We believed creating a triangle eﬀect—holding tournaments at three diﬀerent sites—would draw interest from players all over Colorado. So I set to work to find three perfect locations—Grand Junction, Steamboat Springs, and Meeker. In the end, Meeker was too small, so we moved the third leg to Grand Junction in 1983 then to Breckenridge in 1984.

ave and I knew we wanted three tournaments, but struggled with a name. One morning, we went to Walmart and bought a Louisville Slugger bat. While we were standing in the checkout line, Dave noticed a tripleplay indicator on our bat, and I saw the light come on. He said, “We’re running a three-series event with one grand prize. So what do you think about the name Triple Crown?” I said, “Perfect,” and Dave ran with it. at aernoon he sat down and drew our first logo. en he built an elaborate model, and we followed it to the T.

e concept was similar to the Triple Crown horserace. If a team won all three legs they’d receive a special award. And our special award—an all-expenses-paid trip to Vegas—was unheard of.

“The Triple Crown is probably one of the most successful tournaments in the state. It’s a good drawing card for us.”

—Ray Coca, Parks and Recreation Supervisor, Grand Junction, Colorado, 1984 78.

Dave says . . .

Grew and Grew Some More

Worth Every Penny

e started the first true Triple Crown series in 1983 in Grand Junction and Steamboat Springs and back to Grand Junction. In 1984, we added Breckenridge. Our entry fee—$175 per team—was the highest entry fee ever. But 180 teams paid. Over the years our entry fee went to $450 for all three tournaments or $160 for one. It was worth every penny. e teams kept coming, so we grew and grew some more. In 1984, the Denver market exploded into what we called the “Colorado Series.” In 1985, 300 teams played, and by 1987, we’d grown to 360 teams. Our players’ tournament was an unconventional dream come true. And Annette and I still did it on the side for fun.

80.

Dave says . . .

Whipped My Ass

Weak Values Dream

ut of college I landed a good job with First Centennial Life Insurance Company—at least I could pay my bills. First Centennial was a startup company, and my childhood buddy, former college roommate, and good friend, Kirk Gentry, asked me to help him raise money. So I got my Series 7 license, and Kirk and I ended up raising $5 million to get the company off the ground. en First Centennial bought another company and sent me to Boise, Idaho to do direct marketing and reorganize the sales force. One aernoon, out of the blue, the president called me up and said, “Dave, I can’t find my way home.” Come to find out he had late-onset Alzheimer’s. So the powers that be put me in charge of the entire company. I was in way over my head and very frustrated. Truthfully, I didn’t have a clue what I was doing. Plus my mind was always on our tournaments. ree Friday mornings, during the summer, the family and I drove over 600 miles from Idaho to Colorado; three Sunday nights we drove over 600 miles back. is was way before cell phones, so if I needed information while I was on the road, I stopped at a pay phone and dug change out of my pocket. For five years, I devoted my fun energy to the series, and the job whipped my ass. But in looking back that job was one of the best things that ever happened to Triple Crown. e insurance company treated people poorly, so when I built TC’s values board, I already had a long list of things we would NEVER tolerate and a long list of things we would ALWAYS allow. Eventually, a company’s values system rubs off—good, bad, or indifferent it affects employees. I worked as hard as I could to save money for investors I brought in and think I did an ample job. But some tasks the company required were outside my value system. I didn’t like the person I was becoming. e details aren’t pretty. So I’ll just say even the higher-ups had a weak values dream. ey were all over selling, not helping. e board’s motto was “Write a lot. Erase a little.” To make matters worse I had to train the former president’s young playboy son. It was a tough environment for thirty-one-year-old yours truly.

That job was one of the best things that ever happened to Triple Crown. When I built TC’s values board, I already had a long list of things I would NEVER tolerate and a long list of things we would ALWAYS allow.

81.

“Eventually, a company’s values system rubs off— good, bad, or indifferent it affects employees.” —Dave King

Dave started building Triple Crown's values way back when he worked for First Centennial Life Insurance Company.

Real Business Dave says . . .

BusinessWeek

ne morning, at the end of our 1987 season, Kirk Gentry said, “Dave, I’m oﬀ to LA to look at health clubs. I found an investor. We’ll put up money. You can manage them. Come on. Go with us.” I wasn’t interested in managing health clubs, but I’d hit bottom, so I tagged along. On the way home, Kirk tossed a copy of the August 31, 1987 BusinessWeek magazine in my lap and said, “Take a look at this.” Chicago Bears quarterback, Jim McMahon, wearing a Taco Bell headband, was on the front cover. e headline read SPORTS MARKETING: Hire a famous athlete, sponsor a sporting event. It’s the hot new way to promote your products. Here’s why. PAGE 48. I flipped to page 48 and read about corporate influence in sports. en I read a side story about how Mark McCormack—the guy who built the world’s largest sports-management firm, International Management Group— controlled sponsors, venues, and athletes. I closed the magazine, turned to Kirk, and said, “at’s exactly what we’ve done with our amateur soball tournaments in the Colorado Mountains. We’ve got local sponsors who want to take part, great venues everybody loves, athletes who get the best bang for their buck, fans who think we’re awesome, and competitors who think we’re horrible. You know what? Annette and I can create a real business from this.”

“That’s exactly what we’ve done with our amateur softball tournaments in the Colorado Mountains. You know what? Annette and I can create a real business from this.”

84.

First Business Plan

hat evening, I said to Annette, “I want to quit my job, and we’ll turn our tournaments into a real business. What do you think?”

Annette wiped her hands on a dish towel and said, “What took you so long?”

So, with my wife’s blessing, I called an impromptu employee meeting at the insurance company—I hated the company but loved my employees—and announced my decision. It took me all of three days to write our first business plan.

Shoelace Kirk says . . .

ave was way up the ladder with First Centennial, but when I gave him the BusinessWeek magazine, he turned on a dime and said, “at’s it. I’m done.”

I thought: Yeah. Yeah. Whatever. But when he handed me the business plan he wrote in pencil on a yellow legal pad and asked if I’d help out, who was I to say no? We started Triple Crown with Dave’s van, vision, and skills and my ten grand startup capital.

In 1987, ten grand was significant money. But I happened to have it in my back pocket and was willing to invest in Dave King because I knew Dave King would accomplish great things. We probably didn’t use all the money—Dave gets started on a shoelace, and pretty soon he’s built a shoe. I was just lucky enough to walk along behind him.

Entrepreneur Roland says . . .

met Dave in 1982 when I was only seventeen and he wasn’t much more than twenty. We were just a bunch of good ole cowboys from the Colorado Mountains who loved to play small-town soball, and Dave led the pack.

We were all really, really young and really, really loved to party, but Dave was lots more mature than the rest of us. Everybody knew he was an entrepreneur just waiting to happen.

86.

Dave wrote his original business plan on a yellow legal pad.

Better Way Annette says . . .

So What?

ven though we had three little kids, I wasn’t one bit scared or hesitant when Dave told me he wanted to quit his job. He hated it. I knew he was working just to support our family. We were partners, so I was all for it.

I figured, if we had to sell our house, SO WHAT? It was just a house. We could always get a diﬀerent house. If we had to downscale, SO WHAT? I would rather downscale than watch my husband continue to be miserable. I wish he’d done it ten years earlier. I mean, why not do what you love? If you can make a living at it, that’s the way to go. I believe you can make the most out of something you don’t like, and try to be happy. But if you really have a passion, you need to pursue it with everything you’ve got and do your best to make a business out of it. at’s a much better way to work and live.

93.

“These were crazy days even for an old cowboy like me. But we never gave up the dream.” —Roland Rivera

Benevolent Society Dave says . . .

Incorporated

Hard Lesson

Dave says . . .

he first five years were one hell of a ride. But we’d created a benevolent society. Truthfully, I could see Dad’s socialist influence creeping in—charge a lot, but give it all back.

e incorporated as a Class C corporation on October 1, 1987. I was CEO, president, and a majority stockholder. Kirk Gentry was vice president of sales, a majority stockholder, good friend, and second baseman. Kirk stayed oﬀ and on for fourteen years and made tremendous contributions to our growth. Kent Oldham was vice president of operations and a minority stockholder.

So when we switched to a business opportunity, I hadn’t converted my brain to the principles of capital and margin and the ability to redeploy both over and over again. at was a hard lesson. But, like Mom, we lined up to win.

Dad’s socialist influence was creeping in—charge a lot, but give it all back. 96.

Class C

We hired an executive secretary, three part-time secretaries, an accountant, six in-season regional tournament directors, three guys who sold poster promotions oﬀseason and were in-season regional tournament directors, and two in-season college interns. Our CPA was Costello & Nieslanik out of Grand Junction, and we banked with Centennial Bank in Fort Collins.

Rollout Dave says . . .

Gypsy Carnival

Off the Charts

n December 1987, a group of seventeen friends, who Annette and I knew well, sat in front of our fireplace in our Fort Collins home and listened to my “GO” talk—that was our rollout moment. Triple Crown was no longer a sideline job where we simply had fun playing ball with our friends. It was a real business.

e planned our first rollout event for Memorial Day Weekend 1988. en we ran into a snag: Fields were already booked. By a stroke of luck we found fields in Wenatchee, Washington. So we drove most of our staﬀ—some flew—almost 1,500 miles from Colorado to Washington. In three days we trained them to run a tournament.

Basically, I laid out three concepts: √ One: We would take the Colorado Triple Crown three-tournament concept into twelve states and run thirty-six total tournaments. √ Two: e winners of the twelve-state series would play in championship tournaments in Steamboat. √ ree: e tournaments would consist of three men’s divisions, two women’s divisions, and one coed division. Our friends got behind the eﬀort, so in early January 1988 I went into each community and chose fields. en between the middle of January and March 20th, they followed me and sold sponsorships, found hotels and restaurants, and located Budweiser distributorships—Bud was our main sponsor. When they landed, they had to trade out everything from their lodging to their meals. When I say “landed,” I don’t mean they flew in and rented a car. ey literally drove their own cars to the diﬀerent areas and had roughly three months to put together their series. Most represented a couple states with multiple communities in each, so they were on the road for three-or-four-week stretches, back for a week, and out again. I mean, they did this without any real start-up capital or cash flow. It was a gypsy carnival type of set up.

e concept was the series would honor these dates: Memorial Day Weekend would be the first leg; Fourth of July would be the second leg; the first weekend in August would be the third leg. e championships would be mid-August in Steamboat Springs. Our first year was one of the largest rollout concepts for a brand-new start-up company ever. ere was nothing else like it in the entire industry. But it was way beyond what we could handle financially. And that’s probably what caused our huge debt. Between 1982 and 1987, Colorado had averaged 120 teams per tournament. So because of all the direct mail, other promotions, and award packages I forecasted we would get between 65 and 80 teams to play in each tournament in each state—we needed 55 to cash flow it. We came in at the mid- to high-40s. In today’s market it would be oﬀ the charts for a first-year start-up to have that many brand-new events in that many communities. But they didn’t generate enough cash flow to pay the bills.

Triple Crown was no longer a sideline job where we simply had fun playing with our friends. It was a real business.

97.

1987-88 Key People

David King Annette King Kirk Gentry Kent Oldham Pam Oldham Gene Plummer Roland Rivera Rod Crawford Alberta Lee Ed Jones—UIC Rusty Moomey Cayenne White (Krebs) Jeff Jamison Suzanne Gowdy Scott Blanke Mary Dietrich Janet Wanstreet Steve Sutherland Don Nadon Gordon Jones Mary Jane Price Steve Nieslanik Herm Ragin Rich Plankis—UIC Bill Pospisil Judy Morris Norm Bolitho Brett Harvey Brent Hardy Sean Hardy Stacy Crawford John Thrasher Mike Bullen Ray Coca Rusty Moomey Chuck Rice Gus and Jan Carlson 98.

Gene says . . .

Hang in There

ay back when, I was a logger—a lumberjack. Aer I got all busted up and couldn’t work in the woods anymore, I went to work as an agent in an insurance company where David King was a boss man. I first met David in 1985 when he gave a Christmas party for all the agents, and to tell you the truth I didn’t much like him. His party wasn’t all it was cracked up to be, and I thought he blew things out of proportion. I was upset, so come Monday morning I called him up, complained about the party, and told him I didn’t think I could work for him any longer. David said, “Hang in there,” and the next thing I knew he drove all the way from Colorado to Idaho just to give me a hand. He didn’t talk about Triple Crown. He just wanted to help me. As I got to know him better I started thinking: Maybe this guy isn’t really a bullshitter. Maybe he’s really an okay guy.

Different Person

ime passed. In January 1988, David called me up out of the blue and said, “I’ve got something going on in Reno. I need you to see it and be a part of it. I bought your plane ticket. Meet me there.” e meeting was just a few days away, but I was curious, so I hopped on a plane and flew to Reno to find out what this was all about. When I got there, David told me he wanted to start his own business and described his plans for Triple Crown. Reno was a great place for a tournament, so he took me with him to meet with the Chamber of Commerce and drug me around to look at fields and find restaurants and hotels. It’s hard to explain, but David was a diﬀerent person when he was doing Triple Crown business than he was when he was doing insurance company business.

New Shot at Life

Broke

efore we le, David explained that, except for the governing bodies, nobody ever did what he intended to do nationally. So he had a wide-open market. I liked what I heard and saw. So I started thinking: I’ve never met anyone like David King. is guy’s a dreamer. He’s intelligent and articulate. He’ll make it happen. I can’t explain what happened next, but David King asked me, of all people, to move to Colorado and help him start Triple Crown.

avid sent us on the road and expected us to pay for our expenses with trade outs. I tried, but when I couldn’t find trade outs I put $7,000 of company expenses on my personal credit card to pay for my gas, food, and lodging. I’d made up my mind to help make Triple Crown work, so I never said a word. at money was my eﬀort to keep the company going.

To this day, I don’t know why David King included me in his initial start-up. I was forty years old, all crippled up from logging, and working at a nothing job as a life insurance agent. Everybody else was either a college graduate or well-versed in soball. Several even had funds to help him out. I never went to college, didn’t know the first thing about soball, and was a poor logger without a dime to invest. But David King gave me a chance for a new shot at life. My wife and I talked it over and decided I’d take it.

No Pay

riple Crown got its feet wet in the middle of January 1988. At first we were all on salary, and as far as I know, everybody got paid. en about the second year things didn’t go like they should. So David called a meeting and said, “Guys, I’m in danger of folding. I can make a few payments that will keep the company alive, or I can make payroll. I don’t know how long this will last, but I’m oﬀering stock to anybody who wants to work for nothing.” Some just couldn’t do it, so they le. But some of us stuck around and took stock in a virtually bankrupt company. I had a few thousand dollars from selling my place in Idaho, so I could tough it out. But even more important I believed in David King, and by then I’d developed deep feelings for him. So I worked for no pay about six months.

I always remember Port Arthur, Texas: I had four bucks in my pocket, but needed to stick around selling ads three more days. Lucky me. I found a bar that had a happy hour with tubs of FREE all-you-can-eat shrimp. Boy, I ate good that night. en there was the day David and I ate burnt chicken out of a garbage can because we were too broke to buy even a ten-cent hot dog.

Fake Programs

y territory was Arizona, Washington State, and Nevada. My job was to sell advertisements in our programs. But they weren’t really programs yet. David created a 5 by 7, handmade booklet, drew Triple Crown’s logo on the front, and le blank pages for local ads on the inside. at’s all we had. So we sold ad space in fake programs that David created out of his imagination. e concept was good. I’d go into a community and explain that even though slow-pitch soball was traditionally an amateur playground sport, players were getting serious and signing up to play on competitive teams. And those competitive teams were willing to travel three hundred miles to play against other competitive teams. Out of the 35 or 40 teams that signed up for tournaments, two-thirds traveled. So David made Friday night check-in night. en he bracketed teams to play Saturday and Sunday, so they had to pay for lodging, food, and booze for two nights. Soball players were big beer drinkers, so bars loved them. ey didn’t eat at fancy restaurants, so fast-food places loved them. During our first couple years we sold ads to the “little guys,” and they kept us going. en we branched out to car dealers and even La-Z-Boy furniture stores. La-Z-Boy wouldn’t sell a single chair to a soball player, but store owners were solid community people who were happy to have ballplayers come into town. 99.

Collect

t was tough. But David was adamant, and we were broke. We were worse than broke—we were way in the hole. Sure we had to sell, but we also had to collect. One day around 1990, David called a meeting and said, “Either we collect or we go broke.” So when David said, “collect,” by God I collected. I’d never collected a nickel in my life, but that year I collected ninety-six percent of what I sold and ended up as one of the top salesmen in the company. Why? In the beginning, David King’s dream wasn’t my dream. But he was very happy to bring me along with him. He believed in me, and I believed in him.

Hunter’s Host

e played our last tournament in September or October and didn’t play again until spring. During the winter months, we went out and set up our sites, marketed our teams, and sold our ads. But aer that we didn’t have anything to do. Plus we had absolutely no income.

To keep us working during the winter, David came up with the idea of starting a magazine called Hunter’s Host. And guess who he put in charge? Yep. Gene Plummer—a crippled up, former logger, with only a high school education. For three years, all winter, I covered the state of Colorado talking to hunters, chasing game stories, promoting us to sporting goods stores, and selling sponsorships. David was the publisher, Mary Dietrich did the layout, but I was the editor, photographer, and even wrote stories. Hunter’s Host was my baby.

Number One

’m now seventy-two years old and know lots of people, but David King is the most inspirational, intelligent, diligent, people person I’ve ever met. He really is. Nobody has influenced my life like David King. He’s number one in my book. When he picked me to go to work for him, he took me out of a nowhere existence in Idaho and introduced me to the world.

David King is the most inspiritational, intelligent, diligent, people person I’ve ever met. Nobody has influenced my life like David King. 100.

Kent says . . .

For Real

hen I attended college at the University of Northern Colorado in Greeley, I worked part-time as an electrician so I could support my wife and our two boys. Aer I graduated college I purchased the business.

I was an avid soball player. My family lived in Grand Junction. So when I visited during the early ’80s, it was only natural for my Greeley team to participate in the Triple Crown tournaments. Eventually, I became a liaison between Triple Crown and the Front Range teams. In 1986, Dave started telling me about his plan to build his dream of a national Triple Crown Series. When he asked me to be part of it, I sold my business and became partners with Dave and Kirk Gentry in forming the Triple Crown business venture.

We set up our oﬃce on Linden Street in Old Town Fort Collins, and shortly aer, Dave and I attended the ASA convention in Orlando, Florida. Aer the convention we flew our wives to Orlando so we could enjoy Disney World and Epcot Center together. One morning, we dressed in our Bermuda shorts and tank tops, jumped in our rental car, and headed out for the day. Somewhere around Kissimmee-Saint Cloud, we saw a billboard that read, “We put butts in beds!” Dave hit the brakes and turned into the Chamber of Commerce’s parking lot. He jumped out of the car, grabbed a pair of slacks and a polo shirt out of the trunk, pulled them on over his vacation attire, and I followed him inside. Our wives waited in the car while, on very short notice, the chamber’s powers that be agreed to listen to Triple Crown’s story. I stood in the back of the room absolutely amazed by what I heard and saw. When all was said and done, Dave walked out of the meeting with a $20,000 check. Yep. e chamber purchased an ad in a program that wasn’t even designed. at’s when I knew Triple Crown was for real. 102.

Life on the Road

Sales Script

n December 1987, Dave and Annette and around seventeen friends met in the King’s living room and made a plan to hit the road selling Triple Crown’s story. We were confident our story would lead to businesses buying ads in our program, especially because ads included a listing on one of Kirk’s cartoon posters—posters were a unique award for winning teams in each local tournament.

ill Pilcher was my high school friend. He was interested in our story, so he arranged for us to use his parents’ condo in Steamboat for our championship headquarters. So the staﬀ jumped in cars and headed out.

We were all excited to get started, but learned quickly that life on the road was not a bowl of cherries. Aer being out thirty days, we met in the office to discuss the ups and downs of our trip and shared a common story: Businesses weren’t interested in our posters. Our program was the ticket to get soball players into their hotels and restaurant. We eventually scrapped the poster idea, but did fulfill the commitments we already made. During our staff ’s second road trip I traveled to meet with sales crews, provide moral support, and boost enthusiasm. Come to find out Jeff Jamison and Suzanne Gowdy, who were engaged to be married, were at such odds they booked separate rooms and even refused to eat together. Roland Riviera and Scott Blanke were so tired of each other they refused to walk together to turn in their rental car and sat in separate rows during their flight home.

Before we le we wrote a script that Rod Crawford and I rehearsed all the way from Fort Collins. We had it down pat and boasted to Kirk that we could recite it verbatim. But Kirk said, “Forget it,” and handed us a new and completely diﬀerent script. We were more than deflated but followed his lead.

Fine Print

ll in all 1987 was a successful year from the perspective of soball teams that participated. Teams loved to play in well-organized tournaments. But because we didn’t meet our sales goals we were short on cash. So when it came time for championship games in Steamboat, we didn’t have enough money to reimburse teams the promised $2,500. ankfully, Dave wrote fine print into the contract that made Triple Crown responsible for a much lesser amount. Still Steamboat was a huge success—teams loved the event and the location.

All in all 1987 was

a successful year from the perspective of softball teams

that participated.

Teams loved to play

in well-organized tournaments.

103.

Cartoon poster, Steamboat Springs

Troubling Aspects

ver the twenty years I spent with Triple Crown, I witnessed the transition from printed programs to the Internet and an interactive website. As I recall, the most troubling aspects of the early years were:

√ Getting cartoon ideas for the posters—Kirk had artists on his staﬀ who converted business ads to cartoons, but most businesses had their own ideas. √ Getting ad copy—many large businesses had professional ads but many small businesses didn’t, so we had to creatively build their ads with them. Oen businesses promised to mail their ads but didn’t. √ Collecting money—this was the most diﬃcult aspect. Promised checks weren’t mailed. at le us short of our projected goals and created a cash flow shortfall that we were forced to live with.

First Event

y first event was in Big Spring, Texas—a small Texas town brought to its knees by the oil and gas deflation. Triple Crown was the economic boon they needed. e downside was they didn’t have facilities to host a large tournament, but assured us come tournament time, the fields would be ready.

Game time was 8 a.m. Saturday morning. We arrived to find welding crews installing drill pipes for outfield fences. Our 57 teams wondered what they’d signed up for. Aer a delay, the tournament went oﬀ without an incident. Teams were happy and Big Spring businesses were elated. I was very proud to be part of that event.

Pam

oving forward, my wife, Pam, went to work for Triple Crown. She worked in the oﬃce all week, oen staying late to help me bracket my events. Aer Pam finished her work day on Friday, she drove to my event and worked by my side all weekend. I attribute the progression of novelty sales success to Pam. She designed the displays and organized the novelty products so they were readily available to try on and purchase. e tournaments Pam and I ran had the highest sales of any other events. I also witnessed my wife interact with the staﬀ in the most caring and endearing way. When someone had a problem, either work related or personal, they always seemed to migrate to Pam. ere was never an award for this service, but I promise many past and present Triple Crown employees know exactly what I’m talking about.

Collecting money was the most difficult aspect. Promised checks weren’t mailed. That left us short of our projected goals and created a cash flow shortage that we were forced to live with.

105.

Energy and Enthusiasm Dave says...

Fat Chance

he saying around the oﬃce was, “If we had a million dollars, we’d spend two.” Ha! Even a million bucks was a pipedream. We had no idea how much money we needed to get oﬀ the ground, so we lived hand-to-mouth. When we were $365,000 in the hole in 1989 and couldn’t pay our bills we went to the local bank but couldn’t get any traction. One banker agreed to lend us $50,000 IF we put up a $50,000 CD as a deposit. Fat chance.

A Favor

teamboat was a problem in itself: One of our awards was to pay lodging for all teams that played in Steamboat’s championship tournaments. So we had to front a hundred and fiy grand. Back then, Steamboat needed summer business, so two weeks before the tournament, we met with Paula Sears, the gal who headed up Steamboat’s booking service, and said, “Paula, we’ll help you, if you’ll help us. We need rooms for seventy-two teams. We can’t pay you right now, but if you cover us, we will pay you.” Paula said, “at’s way above my paygrade,” and brought in the very wealthy Martin Hart. Martin bought Steamboat Ski Resort and the booking corporation with money he made oﬀ Gates Rubber Company and Pizza Hut franchises. During our meeting, we asked him to invest in Triple Crown and oﬀered him thirty percent of our business. Martin kicked back in his chair and said, “Boys, I’ll do you a favor. Listen up. If Triple Crown makes it, it will be because of you, not because of me. If you do whatever you need to do to make yourselves successful, you’ll understand what I just said. If you look for another guy to bail you out, you won’t be around very long, so my advice won’t matter. It’s your choice. But I will give you four weeks.” With that he got up and le. I didn’t know it at the time, but that is the best business advice I ever received. 106.

Four Weeks

e had four weeks to patch together $150,000 and get us through the window. We’d already maxed out our credit cards and took out second mortgages. So I liquidated my First Centennial stock. We converted a few debt holders to shareholders. en we asked for love money. Kirk’s dad and granddad and my parents and grandmother saved us. Annette and I had some equity in our house, so we put it on the market, but nobody even looked at it. I called an appraiser and he said, “Your place needs to be spruced up. It will cost you about ten grand.” No way did we have that kind of money, so my mother gave us a loan, and we did some fix up. e house still didn’t sell.

First Layoff

y all logic we should have filed for bankruptcy, but we stayed in front of our creditors, one at a time. We about put our local trophy shop under, but they gave us a workout plan. Out of loyalty, we stayed with them ten years beyond the time they were capable of handling our business. Our T-shirt suppliers, the Taylor brothers out of Texas, were also instrumental. ey ended up becoming investors and twenty-year-plus board members. Our customers loved us. Our tournaments were tremendously successful and well received by the marketplace. But our business model wasn’t solid. So when we finished Steamboat in August of 1988 we corrected our business plan and that led us to our first layoff. We offered two options: Our staff could go on the road with no money and no pay and sell on straight commission, or we could lay them off with nothing but stock options in a worthless company. I mean, no severance pay, no layoff package, nothing. We lost good people who really knew the business. ey never came back, and that was hard. But the majority went back on the road and did a bang-up job. I mean, how do you get employees to work for you with no money? It was based on sheer energy and enthusiasm .

Sponsorship Season Magic

Dave says . . . ﬀ-season was sponsorship season—the time of year we had to secure sponsors and get their deposits. We didn’t have a mechanism to pay our sales guys, so they got a percentage of what they brought home. at wasn’t our preferred way to operate, but we had a serious cash flow issue.

Every day an old guy stopped by our building and mumbled one thing or another, but we couldn’t understand a word he said. Kirk and I swore one of us should become the “designated mumbler” and take his job. I laid it all out in our business plan. We needed sponsorships in all twelve states and thirty-six towns. My expectations were high and tangible benefits were low. But, like me, our people were caught up in the magic. Independent contractors: Per town 0-$6,000 in ad dollars—No commission $6,000-$10,000 in ad dollars—10% commission—retroactive $10,000-$20,000 in ad dollars—15% commission—retroactive $20,000 and up—20% commission—retroactive Absolutely no draw or advance.

I also laid out their daily routine:

Each salesperson will follow the following schedule when in the field Monday through Saturday: 6:15 to 7:15 am—physical workout 7:15 to 7:30 am—shower 7:45 to 8:30 am—breakfast 8:30 to 9:00 am—daily planning & meeting 9:00 am to 5:00 pm—poster field 5:00 to 5:30 pm—record keeping 5:30 pm on—free Salesmen will pay all expenses incurred on the road including gas, food, and lodging unless the trade level is accomplished. 107.

Roland says . . .

Crazy Days

Alberta says . . .

drove my own vehicle to the Midwest for three weeks straight and worked advertising trades with local hotels and restaurants just so I could sleep and eat. I had to get fiy percent up front if I wanted to get paid in two weeks. ese were crazy days even for an old cowboy like me. But we never gave up the dream.

’ll start at the beginning. Dave and I worked for the same life insurance company. When he le, he took his secretary with him, but aer a few months she moved, so Dave asked me to work for him and Kirk. Long before I met Dave, I knew his parents, and Kirk’s mother was my high school PE teacher, so I figured it would probably be alright.

Kirk says . . .

Just Peachy

er our first couple years we were a half million dollars in the hole. So Dave and I sat down and had a heart-to-heart. I said, “We owe huge amounts of money to at least ten suppliers. Our numbers are upside down. Our business model stinks.” Dave said, “Other than that everything’s just peachy.” I thought: If he can laugh about our mess, I guess we’ll be ok. Dave is a master at seeing the way out of a very diﬃcult situation. He ended up approaching our creditors and convincing them to become investors. e rest is history.

Dave says . . .

Mail Run

BIG Moment

ail run was the highlight of our day—a big, BIG moment. We didn’t have any money, so I was never sure if we could make payroll or keep the lights on. We couldn’t wait to open the mail to see what checks arrived. Nobody tells the story better than my loyal, longtime secretary, Alberta Lee. 108.

Tuesday

Dave was cash short. Even though I was very busy with this, that, and the other thing, mail run was the most important part of my day. People couldn’t even imagine paying online, so teams sent checks along with handwritten notes naming team members and requesting a division. We could hardly wait for Tuesday—that’s when the most checks arrived. e minute the postman dropped the mail on my desk, I called for Dave, and we sat together and pulled checks out of envelopes. We went back and forth like little kids at Christmas: What did you get? Is mine bigger than yours?” ree hundred dollar checks made our day. I stamped the checks and stacked them in piles. en Dave and I decided which suppliers we could pay and which ones we couldn’t. Next was payroll. We usually had enough money to pay seventeen employees and one of us, so Dave and I staggered our paychecks—whoever needed money most that week got paid. All this sorting and deciding took lots of time. I had to run the checks to the bank and make the deposit before three o’clock, so if the postman was late we had a real problem.

Mail run was the highlight of our day—a big, BIG moment. We didn’t have any money, so I was never sure if we could make payroll or keep the lights on.

253 Linden Street Make Do

Nothing was automated. We wrote on notebook paper with pencils and corrected mistakes with rubber erasers. I punched credit card numbers into a terminal by hand, got the totals, and started over with the next batch.

ur oﬃce was in Old Town Fort Collins at 253 Linden Street. It was a big, two-story building. Dave and I were upstairs. Accounting and sales were downstairs.

Our bookkeeper ran oﬀ lined sheets of paper—purplecolored dittos—on the mimeograph machine, and gave them to me so I could record team names, check numbers, check amounts, and cash. At the end of the day I added everything in my head, and then used an adding machine to check my totals—many aernoons the tape was yards long.

Alberta says . . .

If sales guys didn’t produce, I didn’t have money to buy oﬃce supplies. We had one small cupboard for file folders, pens, pencils, and general oﬃce supplies. Many days our cupboard was pretty bare, and I had to make do. One morning, a salesman and I drove to a secondhand store in Burlington, bought a few old file cabinets, and hauled them back. I thought I’d died and gone to heaven.

Nothing Was Automated

e had one computer that ran on a DOS operating system. Our word processing program, WordPerfect, read and wrote files onto a floppy disc.

During the early years, Dave wrote his letters longhand, and I typed them up. But before long, he heard other organizers did their own typing, so he said, “Alberta, if they can type, so can I.” Like always, once Dave makes up his mind, watch out, anything’s possible.

If I didn’t balance, I had to go back through and look, and look, and look until I found my mistake. I’ll never forget the day we did $25,000 in business, and I balanced to the penny. I was so excited everything came out right I just had to tell Dave.

Old-fashioned Calls

e needed to get the word out, so about twelve times a year we mailed each participant tournament results and information about Triple Crown. Once a year we sent a customer satisfaction survey to thousands of participants. But best of all, every winter we called each participant—amazing what we learned from old-fashioned, personal telephone calls. 109.

Silver Grill

t wasn’t all work. Dave and I were the first two in the oﬃce every morning, so we locked the door and made our way down the back stairs. en away we went, across the alley, to the Silver Grill—the oldest restaurant in Northern Colorado. Dave liked a hearty breakfast, so he usually ordered biscuits and gravy. I liked their famous giant cinnamon rolls.

Don’t Mess With Alberta

was the only girl in the oﬃce, so I was very, very busy, and loved every minute. Well, maybe not every minute. If I had too much to do I got frustrated, but the next day I was fine. During my first ten years, I missed maybe two days, and that was because I had a root canal. ere were days I didn’t feel too good, but I knew there were things I needed to get done, and Dave was a good boss. He never got mad or exploded. We had mutual respect and a good working relationship. So I never wanted to leave him shorthanded. It’s hard to put my feelings into words, but there are people you just take to and end up liking for years. I always liked Dave. He always treated me well, so I felt—and still feel—responsible to him. I have to laugh because longtime Triple Crown folks say, “Dave and Alberta go way back. Don’t mess with Alberta!”

My Guy

Let Down Roland says . . .

y 1986, I’d graduated college. Aer substitute teaching and coaching a couple years, I was one semester into my master’s program and without a real job.

One morning, I bumped into Dave. He told me he and Annette were taking their kitchen-table soball tournaments national. I said, “Man! I’ve got to be part of it. What do I do? Where do I sign up? Oh, by the way, I gotta make a few bucks.” Dave said, “Roland, you’ll be a great coach and teacher. Stay in school.” I was let down but agreed reluctantly. During holiday break I was cruising Fort Collins and noticed a Triple Crown sign in this ramshackle, dysfunctional structure in Old Town. So I went in. e building was strange—hallways everywhere—odd businesses—even an oﬃce where people slapped with DUIs took classes. But I found Triple Crown and opened the door to find Alberta Lee sitting at her desk outside Dave’s oﬃce. Alberta said, “Take a seat. I’ll ask Dave if he wants to see you.” Little did I know that before long Alberta would teach me how to write a business letter. 110.

Sports Marketer

ne thing led to another and Dave said, “Well, you don’t have any business experience, but you can work the phone during holiday break. I’ll pay you five bucks an hour. Here’s your script.” My job was to call convention bureaus around the country and ask if their town had twelve soball fields, six hundred hotel rooms, and a motivated business community. If yes, I connected with Dave’s goodold-boy network and set up a press conference. I was in heaven. A week or so passed. Dave said, “Roland, we need a soball director in Ohio. Get on a plane. Fly into Cleveland. Rent a car. Call on communities.” I told my wife I was dropping out of graduate school to work for Dave King. My pay was a thousand bucks a month. But I’d never made any money, so it sounded like a fortune. Flying was a new experience, but I managed to get myself to Ohio and rent a car. My car wasn’t just any old car—it was a bright red Firebird Trans Am. Aer all, I was cool. I was a sports marketer. Dave didn’t exactly see it like I did. When I handed him my $450 car rental bill, he about shit.

Grateful

ven though I started out as a dumb kid, Dave gave me a chance. It’s been a wild, awesome thirty-year ride. I’m blessed. I’m grateful to God and many long-term Triple Crown employees. I’m really grateful to Dave King. Even when I went through hard times, he believed in me and made me a better man. He influenced my life even more than my parents. Dave King’s my guy.

I’m really grateful to Dave King. He influenced my life even more than my parents. Dave King’s my guy. 111.

Magazines Dave says . . .

Bold Kickoff

his was the era of direct mail. We acquired lists. en, to the tune of $180,000, we did up really nice, full-color magazines and mailed them all over the country—each state had a center insert that featured the state, local tournaments, and local sponsors. e largest expense our first year was our 800 number, but our magazines came in a close second. ey were a bold kickoﬀ, but they got us started.

112.

Merchandise Sales Dave says . . .

True Story

y good friend, Gus Carlson, who owned Mountain Mesa Sports in Grand Junction, helped me plot awards. One day, Gus said, “Dave, I think you should get into merchandising. What if I sell T-shirts out of my car trunk in Steamboat?” I was reluctant, but aer I thought about it I said, “Ok. BUT shirts people buy can’t be the same as shirts they win.” Gus printed 300 shirts and set up his stand. Twelve hours into the tournament I stopped by and asked how it was going. Gus grinned and said, “ey’re gone.” I said, “Well, maybe I should think about merchandising.” Gus grinned again and said, “Well, maybe you should.” Come to find out the weekend warrior is a serious customer. irty years later merchandise sales account for around eight percent of our total revenue—a million and a half bucks ain’t small change.

Keri says . . .

On big days, we ended up with anywhere from ten to fieen thousand dollars—huge money. Our storage system was far from secure, but it was all we had. At the end of the tournament, Dad turned the money around and paid oﬃcials. Frankly, T-shirt cash flow helped keep the business alive.

Alberta says . . .

Busier Than a Little Bee

carted hundreds of T-shirts to Howelsen Park, set up a long table, and sorted them into piles by size. People stood in long lines waiting to buy a shirt that marked the occasion, so I was busier than a little bee. Most paid with credit cards. I set the card on a manual swipe machine, laid a credit slip over it, made an imprint, and asked the cardholder to sign and write their phone number on the slip. No way could I tell if the card was approved. So when I got back to the oﬃce, I punched numbers from hundreds of cards into a terminal, and called people whose cards were declined. e problem was their phone was usually disconnected.

Wads of Cash

t the end of the night, Dad returned to our rented townhouse in Steamboat with wads of cash from T-shirt sales, and he and I sat around our kitchen table counting twenties.

We stacked them in stacks of twenty-five. en we arranged each bill with its head facing north, wrapped each stack with a rubber band, stuﬀed them into a Walmart sack, tied it up, and stored it in the cabinet.

113.

John says . . .

Jacker

Call-in Day

Cool Dude

Dave says . . .

acker was our mascot. Dave created him from the soball phrase “jacking it out,” meaning hitting the ball so hard it flies over the fence.

ur goal was to own three weekends of American slow-pitch—Memorial Day, Fourth of July, and the first weekend in August. We had to get teams to various locations on time. Most drove considerable distances, and before they could make travel arrangements they needed accurate game times.

Aer players accumulated six points for things like double plays, homeruns, diving catches, and four-hit games they won a Budweiser Triple Crown T-shirt. As they continued to accumulate points they won iron-on Jacker stickers. In Jacker’s first life he was an out-of-shape bear who just happened to pick up a wooden bat. But as our demographics changed and players started “working out” and buzzing about health and fitness, Jacker transformed into a bulked up, physically fit, cool dude. Every soball player on the planet wanted to aﬃliate with Jacker.

Best Laid Plans

is was way before the Internet. So here’s how it worked: We built a master schedule by hand. en on Wednesday night I created brackets—bracketing is so complex it was easier to do it myself than teach somebody. By three or four in the morning I had everything figured out and laid master brackets on employees’ desks. Come ursday morning, we turned on phones at 7 a.m. Mountain Time. Lines lit up like a Christmas tree. Ten people grabbed call aer call and relayed logistics. en the clincher: “PLEASE dispense this information to ALL players so we don’t receive multiple calls from the same team.” As the saying goes: e best laid plans.

Our goal was to own three weekends of

American slow-pitch—

Memorial Day, Fourth of July, and the first weekend in August.

115.

Steamboat in August

Magical

We looked at ourselves: Our first-ever leg hair—gone. Arm hair—gone. Hand hair—gone. We were covered with burns. Our clothes smelled like smoke. I said, “Man! We’re in big trouble. We gotta figure something out.”

e held our World Series tournaments in Steamboat Springs on three different weekends in August. Different divisions from all over the United States, Canada, Mexico, and even Guam played. Teams, spectators, and staff all agreed: ere’s NOTHING like Steamboat in August. It’s magical.

As we walked down the hill, certain we were dead meat, we spotted a hose and figured if we sprayed each other oﬀ, our folks would think we were just innocent boys playing in the water.

Dave says . . .

Unlike Paul Harvey I don’t recall the rest of the story, but being the “good kid” in our family, I probably got away with it.

Trouble

Amazing Memories

teamboat is a central part of Triple Crown and has been a staple for me personally every year of my life. When I was a young boy our slow-pitch world unfolded in Steamboat Springs. Sure I worked a lot, but there was always time to get into more than my fair share of trouble.

have amazing memories of putting pennies on the railroad tracks and laughing when trains smashed them, and spending lazy aernoons floating down the Yampa River in inner tubes. en there was Mom’s old, red 4Runner, complete with its tape deck and ONE tape—we listened to Eagles Greatest Hits a gazillion times.

One summer, I rolled my truck four times leaving Steamboat. e entire truck was crushed. It was very intense, but I ended up with nothing more than a seatbelt burn. e good news is Dad and Mom gave me the day oﬀ work.

Keri says . . .

Crime Scene

hen I was fourteen, I was very interested in fire. I had myself a lighter and some free time. One morning, I said to Tim Casale, “Let’s walk up Howelsen Hill.” Tim agreed. I dropped my lighter in my pocket, and we took oﬀ. At the top, I spotted hay bales. I said, “Look! e hay bales are separated from each other. Let’s light one on fire. Come on. It’ll be safe.” Tim was in. It hadn’t rained for months, but I wasn’t smart enough to factor in dry native grass. e fire spread. We tried to stomp it out with our tennis shoes. It continued to spread. I freaked out. I yelled, “Tim, we gotta get out of here—now,” and started running down the hill. Fortunately, Tim was smarter than Keri. He yelled, “NO! We gotta put out the fire.” I stopped dead in my tracks and returned to the crime scene. We stripped oﬀ our shirts and beat the flames. Aer ten minutes, which seemed like ten hours, the fire was out.

Kasey always figured out problems and fixed whatever—if you could touch it, my brother was the guy for the job. So Dad made Kasey the mound-logistics guy. During the early 2007s, he and Mario Morgan, a UNO wrestler, drove portable mounds around a 100-mile radius and set them up on the fields. Kasey crushed it.

Wild West

’ll always remember 6 a.m. starts, fog in the valley, the smell of the mountains, me and my “cool dude” friends cruisin’ Main Street looking for girls, all wrapped around the atmosphere of this magical community just as it was coming into the national spotlight. Steamboat wasn’t yet a year-round resort, and even though I didn’t recognize it at the time, Triple Crown made a valuable contribution to the local economy. 117.

I also remember crazy stuﬀ: Everybody drank lots of beer. Drunken players and spectators got mad at the umpires. When Dad intervened, they got mad at him. ey called him names. Fights broke out. We usually got home about eleven, and many nights our phone rang around midnight. “Ah, Dave, two players are fighting at the top of the mountain. ey just knocked windows out of a gondola. What are you going to do?” Adult slow-pitch was definitely the Wild West party zone.

Auctions

ad was our auctioneer. It was absolutely amazing to watch him in action. People jumped up on the bar and showed oﬀ their latest apparel. If you didn’t know better, you thought you were in Italy watching top fashion models parade down the high-fashion runway. Dad moved the cost of merchandise up faster than the proverbial speeding bullet and sold the clothes right oﬀ their backs.

Record Time

ne summer Mom drove our old Buick sedan home from Steamboat. We three kids were in the backseat. Dad was driving a diﬀerent vehicle. e Buick’s brakes weren’t working properly, but she managed to get it stopped on an uphill swing. Dad stopped his vehicle. He walked to ours. “What’s going on?” he asked. Mom said, “e brakes are shot.” Dad said, “No problem. You and the kids climb in my rig, and I’ll take over.” Next thing we knew he zoomed down a hill and disappeared into Poudre Canyon. Somehow he lived through it and made it home in record time. To Dad’s credit, times were tough, so he refused to waste money towing a no-brake Buick all the way from Poudre Canyon. 118.

Scorekeepers

long with watching three kids, Mom inserted herself into the business during the really busy six to eight weeks in July and August. We had scorekeepers on every field in Steamboat. One of Mom’s integral roles was to manage them. Mom kept score; a host of local people kept score; players who weren’t playing kept score; my siblings and I kept score. ere was a never-ending need to find a labor force that was hard to pin down. But Mom did it. Dad had no reason, or money, to hire a full-time person to do what his wife was willing and able to do. Mom always jumped in and provided a big giveback. One thing about any family business is you receive the benefit of unpaid labor. at’s Mom. She puts family first, but willingly does whatever to keep the business alive.

The Boat

hirty years later, we still have relationships in Steamboat. “e Boat,” as we call it, will always have a special place in my heart.

Mom always jumped in and provided big giveback. That’s Mom.

She puts family first, but willingly does whatever

to keep the business alive.

Steamboat World Series Slow-pitch Awards Presentation 1988

Kasey says . . .

Excitement

teamboat’s environment buzzed. I’ll always remember standing at the top of the mountain watching dad live-announce awards in front of thousands. During that magical moment players were, literally, at the top of the world feeling good about everything they’d worked so hard for. Dad carried that feeling home with him. And when he was excited we were excited. Dad’s trademark is excitement—it’s attractive—it rubs oﬀ on anybody and everybody.

Dad’s trademark is excitement. It’s attractive. It rubs off on everybody. Patty says . . .

Trophies

t the end of the season we played our World Series national championship games in Steamboat. e trophies were so big our out-of-state teams couldn’t carry them home on an airplane unless they were dismantled. ose trophies were our brand—something we stood for and behind. It was always super-duper special for a team to win a World Series trophy— especially in Steamboat.

120.

Roland says...

Our Town

h, Steamboat. I moved to Steamboat when I was twelve, so it’s easy for me to tell its story. But Dave says it best: “row out all event development rules because everything works in Steamboat.” We didn’t even need good fields. e valley itself was magical. Back in the day, Steamboat was an oﬀ-the-beaten-path community filled with a bunch of old cowboys and hippies. Our adult players were beer-drinking, hell raisers. Dave led the charge, so we fit right in. During the summer, not much went on, so businesses closed their doors—until Dave brought in our championship events and developed relationships. No questions asked: Steamboat was our town.

John says . . .

Awesome

riple Crown is Steamboat’s thirty-year community partner. But it wasn't easy. Even though our sports model brought tourism to the once sleepy community, we became a fourteen million dollar summer traﬃc problem, and the multiple city councils about wore Dave out. As the town became more sophisticated, our beerswigging cowboys didn’t exactly fit the commission’s marketing pro forma of wine-tasting golfers and hot toddy-sipping skiers. To Dave’s credit, he balanced on the political tightrope until the politicians said, “Your money spends. We need you to create our jobs. We need you to fill our condos. We need you to buy our gasoline. We need you to eat in our restaurants.” To this day, we are branded in the community and have a solid contract with Steamboat. I’ve been around long enough to know this is rare. Truthfully, it’s awesome.

Back in the day, Steamboat was an off-the-beaten-path community filled with a bunch of old cowboys and hippies. Dad led the charge, so we fit right in. 121.

î ˘e Gatekeepers Kelly, Kasey, and Keri King

The Gate

Team Check-in Steamboat World Series Slow-pitch, 1988

They Did It

Kasey says . . .

he only way into Steamboat’s Howelsen Park was to drive past the rodeo grounds, across a bridge, down a tiny road that ended at the gate. We set heavy wooden sawhorses across the road directly before the gate and stationed Keri, Kasey, and even little Kelly next to them.

eri, Kelly, and I pulled on T-shirts so large they looked like dresses and stood at the gate. Teams loaded up their vans with as many people as was humanly possible. Nobody wanted to pay, and everybody tried to talk their way out of it.

eir job was to stop each car and say, “at will be ten dollars please . . . Yes . . . Per PERSON!” ey took the money, moved the sawhorses to let the vehicle pass, and moved them back before the next vehicle arrived.

Teams arrived at diﬀerent times staggered throughout the day, so we continually had a fresh cycle of people who tried to manipulate the system. We were just kids, and there’s nothing like a kid asking you to hand over money. Teams pulled every trick in the book to slide past. It’s a good thing I became a good negotiator, because at the end of the day Dad expected us to hand over a cashbox full of money.

Patty says . . .

Day aer day these little kids stood in the hot sun, collecting money, handing out wristbands, and moving heavy sawhorses. ey were always sunburnt, dirty, and very, very tired. But they did it.

Keri says . . .

Terrifying Assignment

ad never told customers they had to pay to get into the facility, so working the gate was a terrifying assignment. ere wasn’t a sane adult on the planet who’d man the gate, so that le us young kids to stand guard and collect money. We put up a barricade, but drivers sped around. My toes were run over more than once. It was a terrible job.

Free Labor

Aer many long hours at the gate, we hung out outside the ballpark. We didn’t have a TV or cell phone, so our only entertainment was chasing foul balls. We occupied our time by pulling berries oﬀ a tree and throwing them into a cup. As the weeks passed, our aim got better and better. When we got hungry, Dad gave us food coupons, and we walked across the Yampa River Bridge into town and traded for food at City Market, Double Z Bar, and other community restaurants. All in all, we were good gatekeepers. Even better, we were free labor.

123.

Deal of a Lifetime Roland says . . .

Carrot

he package we oﬀered our teams during our first year was unbelievable. We had a great carrot: Come to Colorado. Play in our series. It will be awesome. Grand prize winners go to Steamboat. We’ll put fieen players in condo for a week—for free. AND we’ll cut your team a check for twenty-five hundred bucks. It was printed. It was documented. We had to deliver. It was the deal of a lifetime. I’ll always remember Alberta Lee sitting at the yacht club, next to the river, in downtown Steamboat. Teams were checking in. Music was blaring. Everybody was drinking Bud Light and whooping it up. And there was Alberta, checkbook open, writing checks as fast as she could.

Annette pitching soball in Steamboat, 1988

125.

Dave says . . .

Wild Idea

Jams Graphic art drawn by Dave King

er Kirk got out of First Centennial, he started selling ads on artsy-cray community posters through his company, Blue Highway Promotions. Kirk was very successful, which gave me a wild idea: Why not use his posters to promote our tournaments? Kirk agreed. e only issue was he’d committed to winter in Australia. So we rolled out initial sponsorship and poster sales without him. Kirk missed two critical months of staﬃng and preparing our sales people. But when he returned, he hit the ground and played an instrumental role as national sales manager. Kirk called our people every morning and asked what they’d sold, how they were doing, and how he could help. His role in sponsorship sales between 1988 and 1990 was huge, especially managing the sales force. All went well, which gave me an even wilder idea: Why not make Steamboat even more magical? is was the era of crazy jams—long multicolored shorts. So we decided to print Steamboat’s championship site on jams, jerseys, and jackets. We awarded jams—uniform pants—in leg one, jerseys in leg two, and jackets in the third leg. Eﬀective? Right. Simple? Wrong. We did the artwork. en we got stuck. We ended up having the fabric produced and printed in, of all places, JAPAN. en we had to get bolts through customs so our operation in Durango could cut and sew, and we could deliver to Steamboat. By then we were out of money and way short on time. We figured it out, but the story doesn’t exactly have a happy ending: It took us five or six years to sell the extra and, by then, infamous yardage.

“Dave runs with outlandish ideas. People often wonder: What the heck is that all about? But before long we’re swept up in his enthusiasm.” —Patty Harsh

126.

Punch Card System

On Fire

Patty says . . .

Legend

Dave says . . .

ur greatest award ever was our punch card system. Dave and Annette created it to recognize exceptional play in slow-pitch. Teams wrote their names at the top of the card and listed their players down the lehand side.

e lost $360,000 in 1988, another $150,000 in 1989, but in 1990 we made a profit of $60,000. By 1992, our series had expanded to 116 cities and Mexico. Our profit was $140,000.

World Was Our Oyster

Whenever a player made a great play—hit a homerun, made a diving catch, got four hits, and so on—the umpire punched a hole next to his or her name. At the end of the event the tournament director counted players’ punches. A certain number of punches earned a certain award. Our awards weren’t just any old awards. Players won Nike shoes, Louisville slugger bats, Budweiser T-shirts. And Dave was Dave—he worked deals with sponsors so most awards didn’t cost us a penny—they were tradeoﬀs. Each award told a story. Players treasured them.

We were on fire. e hard liing was over, and we had a business model that worked. We did something in amateur sports that no other private company ever did. e world was our oyster. All we had to do was find the pearls. ere was unbelievable acceleration, enthusiasm, capacity, capability, and energy. All the things we worked through during our first five years as an oﬃcial business came to pass—never to visit again. en we hit a foul ball.

At the end of the season, players with the most punches were named MVPs, and they each received a thick, procotton, Russel athletic sweatshirt and glove that had their name stitched on it. Players worked hard all summer long to be named MVP. Teams fell in love with our punch card system. It was amazing. Innovative. Creative. None of our competitors even came close to anything like it. To this day people call me and say, “Hey, Patty. I still have the glove I earned back in 1988. Your punch card system was THE best!” Even though our punch card system is no longer around, it’s a legend.

There was unbelievable acceleration, enthusiasm, capacity, capabiity, and energy. Then we hit a foul ball. 128.

î ˘e Boat will always hold a special place in our hearts.

“We grew too fast, with no controls, no systems, and no discipline on our values.” —Dave King

Dave says . . .

Train Wreck

Why?

e started 1993 on a high. Over 1,350 teams played in 132 tournaments in 31 states. We gave away over $250,000 in awards. We ran events in London, Australia, Gaum, Hawaii, and Puerto Vallarta.

ESPN televised finals in Steamboat. We’d added 3-on-3 basketball, soccer, and volleyball. Youth tackle football, Sports Fest, and a traveling women’s fastpitch team were up and running. Big-name national sponsors were on board. We’d perfected our systems and had a solid business plan. Bottom line: We were champions positioned to be the premier grassroots sports company in the world. I mean, our top-line growth revenue was up 138 percent.. Why, then, was our bottom-line growth profit down 482 percent? Why did we lose almost $600,000? Why were we reliving 1988 all over again? Why did we owe 365 vendors over $1.1 million? Like Mark McCormack, we were diﬀerent. We’d uncovered something nobody else had figured out, and it wasn’t easy to chase us.

Dave’s Handwritten Analysis What we didn’t understand was why we were unique. And that’s probably what got us in trouble more than anything. at trouble almost put Triple Crown under and took me with it. But why wasn’t our only problem. Early on, we acquired a company by the name of Cramer to help us open our 3-on-3 market. Values were tight within our walls, but they had zero meaning to Cramer’s people. I’d le the insurance company because of values and was determined to do it right in my company, but there we were partnering with a new group. It was a train wreck. And I was responsible for casualties. 133.

We started 1993 on a high.

Miserable Human Being

hat happened in 1993 hardened me so badly I became a miserable human being. At first I couldn’t put my finger on what derailed us. But I was confident I wasn’t a good businessman and could hardly live with myself when I realized I broke a bunch of people. I’ll always remember the day our CFO, Gordon Jones, came to me and said, “Dave, I can’t do this. We’re in a real mess. Our books are so upside down I can’t tell if we’re making money or losing money.” Gordon was a good CFO, but I’d taken on too much for anyone—we’d jumped in size by over 100 percent in one year. I said, “We’re losing money. Our systems are in such disarray that the controls are gone. When values break inside a company, controls usually don’t catch the problem. People aren’t paying for stuﬀ they should be paying for. It’s not fraud. But it is sloppy behavior. And it’s gone on far too long.” Gordon resigned the next month.

Final Wake-up Call

y final wake-up call rang in May. Every May I can tell you what will happen for the rest of the year. But in May of 1993, I said to myself, “I don’t know where we are. I don’t have a plan. I don’t know what to do next.”

at was especially rough on me because very seldom am I without a plan that’s usually mapped out on a spreadsheet.

Board Meeting

thought a bit more and decided the only way out of this mess was to call a board meeting with the goal of breaking down what happened and laying out recovery steps.

I started our meeting saying, “is is our toughest year yet.”

What follows is the meeting in a nutshell: I first thanked each board member individually . . . √ Bill Pilcher, for financial access and stock involvement √ Gene Plummer, for loyalty and support and becoming the coach who chalked up the win √ Keith Poole, for getting involved, financing, stock position and knowledge, and sincere trust √ Mike Taylor, for enthusiasm and money—you always believed in the bigger picture—we’re going to take a look at that picture √ Ford Taylor, for friendship, support, advice, money, and screen printing √ Kent Oldham, for seven hard years, money, profits, leadership, and focus √ Kirk Gentry, (my behind doors backer) for money, the quest for answers, and the drive to NOT let us give up 135.

Next we discussed eight recovery steps: 1. We are bleeding cash now, so profit is our #1 priority now and in the future 2. Retain our key staﬀ, raise wages, and fill key positions: marketing director, cash manager (CFO type), merchandise/warehouse, soball director 3. Pay down 1993 suppliers and stay current with 1994 suppliers 4. Renew and extend existing sponsors 5. Progress with a capital plan that includes exploring private money, agency money, and requires profit first and very little debt before we go forward 6. Review execution: Service to teams, events, marketing, phones, shipping, mail, merchandise, accounting, entry processing, travel, research 7. Establish a plan for cash flow 8. Properly evaluate addition of new programs: Player program, WNIT, Super tournament, Baseball expansion, Sports Fest, Volleyball e bottom line is we built a doable and realistic workout plan around integrity and communications.

Cut Your Losses

t worked for us. But I want to warn you that it might not work for all family-owned businesses. Sometimes you need to cut your losses and get out.

Ask yourself: Am I the right owner, right now? Could I be the right owner twenty-four months from now? If you answer yes to either, it might be worth fighting through. But if you’re not the right owner—present or future—it might be time to liquidate.

Stupidity

t first, our recovery plan was like a honeymoon. We started to get it right, and I felt pretty good about our direction. en, in 1994, as we were into paying down our debt and had most of our vicious vendors handled, I got mad. I mean, I got really, really mad. I was mad at my staﬀ. I was mad at my board. I was mad at me. I was just mad. To say I had a “bad attitude” is the understatement of the century. It’s diﬃcult to describe my mental pain, but when I look back I recognize I was tremendously disappointed that I might spend the next twenty years fixing short-term stupidity. To be clear: e stupidity was we grew too fast, with no controls, no systems, and no discipline on our values.

I was mad at my staff. I was mad a my board. I was mad at me.

136.

137.

King Family Remembers

Dave says . . .

Austere

Keri says . . .

didn’t have a paycheck coming in, so Annette and I walked down a list of what to do to get us out of this moment:

knew we had a “For Sale” sign in our front yard in 1988. I thought that was weird because we all loved our house. I had a sense Dad didn’t have enough money to pay for our house and wondered why we might be moving. But it wasn’t until I got older I realized our house was leveraged highly, and Dad used the money as a pivotal cash-flow asset to prop up the business.

Great Depression Baby

√ credit cards √ love money √ savings √ remortgage our home We’d been beat up so bad in 1988 we’d learned how to live diﬀerently. So by 1993, we were austere and lived oﬀ practically nothing. We still took vacations, but they were in tournament locations before or aer an event. And we used Triple Crown’s trade-out coupons for hotels and restaurants.

Annette says . . .

Smart

imes were tough, but I knew my husband would never let us down. I mean, the man is smart. I never once worried about him supporting our family.

In 1993, I had no idea how bad it was, how many creditors my parents owed, or how they struggled just to keep us fed. I was born in a trailer park when they went to school at UNC, and we were never wealthy. It was only normal for Mom to cook liver and vegetables. We had cool, fun experiences at Steamboat and in Mexico, but we definitely didn’t have a wealthy lifestyle. We drove practical cars, our finances were well controlled, and we never spent exorbitantly. To this day, Dad demonstrates the same stewardship. He knows everything could go south, so he always has a “war chest” full of money and a backup plan. He calls himself a “Great Depression baby who never went through the Great Depression.” His mentality is to store canned soup in case there’s a food shortage. Over time, Dad managed to hodgepodge together enough assets to keep the business alive—and for many years, just staying alive was a key element. He did this with Mom’s support, but he never hauled us kids into their problems. We grew up free and clear of the pain.

Times were tough, but

I knew my husband would never let us down. I never once worried about him supporting our family.

139.

Triple Crown Employees Remember

Kasey says . . .

Under the Cuff

ad kept his problems under the cuﬀ. Looking back, he was probably more contained than before. But I was only eleven years old and fairly one-dimensional. Truthfully, I didn’t give a crap if they had $1,000 or $10,000 in the bank. I didn’t understand how much it took just to live—let alone raise three kids. They kept T-shirts on our backs and food on the table. Whether we were at the ballpark or at home, they spent time with us, and we did as much as we could as a family.

Dad always thought outside his own little bubble. He worked hard to maintain a sense of what’s going on worldwide, in his industry, and in life. I believe 1993 was the moment he realized what it would take to manage properly so Triple Crown could become a larger company.

Kelly says . . .

Confused

Dave says . . .

Fairytale

ur employees were hurting too, and I felt their pain. I encouraged everyone to do what they had to do. It was very common for our younger employees to head over to the blood bank and tap their blood so they could meet their cash flow needs. en there were the layoffs—I had to lay off my staff for six weeks. I offered worthless stock options that had little value then. Some walked. Others stayed. Why? Like me, they were caught up in the fairytale. But on our storyboard the handsome prince didn’t kiss the beautiful princess. But they believed in happy endings. So some stuck around and helped me build a real company. I’m grateful to this day.

remember my folks talking about selling our house in 1988 and moving somewhere else. at was a very big deal because we moved in when I was only three years old, so it was the only home I knew.

Alberta says . . .

In 1993, I heard that people at work had to leave because Dad couldn’t aﬀord to pay them. But when I asked about it, Dad said, “We’ll figure it out.” So I didn’t know the meat of what was going on.

y husband was killed in the early ’70s, and that le me with three kids to raise on my own. By 1993, they were pretty much grown. But being a single mom wasn’t easy. And living without a paycheck really wasn’t easy.

I did know Mom was stressed, Dad was gone a lot, and sometimes things at home just felt hard. I can’t say I was scared about losing Triple Crown because I was too young to understand what that might mean. But I was scared about seeing a weakness in my parents. Like any kid, I thought my parents were invincible and had an answer to everything. All in all, I was confused.

140.

Loyal

I pretty much knew how to take care of myself, but my brother helped me out a few months. I never once considered leaving. Why? I liked my job, and I liked Dave. Dave asked a few people if they intended to leave. But he never said a word to me. I guess he figured I wouldn’t leave him in the lurch. And he was right. I was loyal to Dave then, and I’m still loyal to him.

Bill says . . .

Ride It Out

was lucky. My parents had some money, so when I didn’t get a paycheck, they helped. My dad was in the oil industry and all about assets. Triple Crown had zero assets. It was just a concept. Dad shook his head and said, “I don’t get this company. I don’t get why you hang around.” I said, “I don’t want to go back to the oil fields, so I’ll ride it out.” Again Dad shook his head and asked, “Why in the world do you want to take a chance? Yada . . . Yada . . . Yada.” Simple: Dave’s concept was excellent. TCS is a fun business—a clean business—an exciting business—a business that feeds energy. And we had fun.

Badge of Honor Patty says . . .

t was counterintuitive to hire a new employee in 1993, but that’s when I got the call.

I was in the grocery industry and got to know Dave and Annette through waiting on them at Albertsons, and I played soball against them. It seemed that working for them was the perfect opportunity to combine my work with my passion. So, for

Bracketing party at Dave and Annette’s house

months, I pounded on Triple Crown’s door. But Dave kept saying, “Sorry, Patty.” I was determined to get noticed, so I volunteered to work events. en, low and behold, Dave called and said he found something for me and wondered if I was still interested. I accepted on the spot. e very day I arrived my boss, John Casale, said, “Patty, we can’t pay our bills, so I want you to call on vendors and ask for terms. Oh, by the way, order our merchandise for next year.” Talk about baptism by fire. We were confident we’d figure it out, so we never hid our problems, and we were creative and innovative. Our message was: Don’t worry. You will get paid. It will be creative. But if you work with us, we’ll work with you. We’re not going anywhere. We’re not about one and done. If we work together, you’ll be with us forever. Oh, by the way, we need to negotiate your rock-bottom price for next year. It worked. People knew Dave was true-blue. To maintain morale, Dave and Annette created events. At the end of the summer season they threw an employee party at their house. e grill was going; the beer was flowing; thick, juicy steaks were here; big baked potatoes were there. And if your sister or a seasonal worker was in town, invite them. Everybody was welcome.

Our employees were hurting too, and I felt their pain.

Triple Crown Sports, Men’s A National Champs Sacramento, California

Dave set up a huge wooden board with empty brackets. We gathered round and drew names out of a hat. If you drew one of your teams, you got to bracket it. Due to Dave’s genius that was, literally, how we bracketed our World Series event in Steamboat. By the end of the evening we’d finished a huge project, but it never felt like work. Even more important, we felt special—we knew we belonged— we knew we were appreciated. And that made us proud. en there were our teams. Our teams had NO IDEA what was going on. To them, we were the best thing since sliced bread. ey still dealt with their favorite staﬀ member; we still called regularly; we still held various events; we still delivered excitement. In other words, we served champagne on a beer budget. Dave describes 1993 as a debacle. Sure it was diﬃcult. But employees don’t remember it as a debacle. We remember it as a badge of honor.

Roland says . . .

Dave’s Vision

ur business model was based on Dave’s vision. It was unheard of for event organizers to hop in their cars, dive hundreds of miles to their markets, knock on doors, and say, “Hi! I’m Roland from Triple Crown Sports. For eight weeks this summer we’ll bring thirty teams and hundreds of visitors to your community. “Will you buy an ad in our tournament program? It costs five hundred dollars, but I’ll take every penny in food coupons, so I can feed my staﬀ and umpires. ere’s more. Come time for our event, we’ll pass out coupons to our teams, and that will drive business to your business. “Oh, by the way will you feed me tonight?”

“Not only did we build events for our customers, we built events for ourselves. And in doing so we grew.”

142.

—Patty Harsh

Our teams thought we were the best thing since sliced bread.

Work-out Plan Dave says . . .

Ed Shed

Bankruptcy Principles

Dave says . . .

y self-worth was at an all-time low. I wasn’t happy with myself as a business person, but I refused to declare bankruptcy. I don’t think bankruptcy is a good system. So I decided to beat bankruptcy by using its principles to get out of our mess.

give Bob McGahie credit for helping us recover. Bobby was one of many interns we brought on board around 1990. Our goal was to teach them the business, and when somebody caught, we kept them. Regardless, we had a bunch of college kids who knew sports, wanted to be around sports, and worked hard for us.

One of bankruptcy’s primary principles is to initiate a work-out plan. Don’t wait for your creditors to call you. Call them first. Tell them the truth. e toughest call I made was to American Express. I said, “I owe you $131,000. I want to pay you, but I can’t pay you a dime right now. It will take me six months to send even token payments. Pull me over to the workout desk right now.” (e back story is we didn’t want employees to feel the personal pain associated with travel, so we gave everybody an AmEx card.) Two days later the AmEx rep called me back and said, “How long do you need to pay oﬀ your debt?” I said, “ree years.”

Payment Person

ey, along with Ed Jones, lived in the Ed Shed. Ed was a single guy who worked for us as our Head Umpire, better known as UIC—Umpire in Chief. He couldn’t afford rent in Fort Collins, so we worked a deal where he lived in a house on our property, paid rent for one bedroom, and the interns lived for free in the other bedrooms. is was a good plan because it didn’t cost much. Even better, we had some really, really great people come through the Ed Shed. Bobby was frugal with his personal money, always paid his bills on time, and was a prudent investor. So I converted him to our payment person. For twenty-four months, we met every day, and he helped me divvy up our money. When all was said and done, Bobby knocked it out of the park.

Going Down

“Okay.” he said. “ree years it is. We’ll keep your cards alive for three years.” I said to myself, “Cards? Naw. Card!” I cut up employees’ cards, leaving Triple Crown with one card—mine. To this day, it reminds me of our 1993 near-death moment.

Triple Crown was going down fast. I thought we’d probably drown. But as always, Dave King rescued us.

144.

Kirk says . . .

Rescue

riple Crown was going down fast. I thought we’d probably drown. But as always, Dave King rescued us. e very next year we turned a $367,000 profit.

“Triple Crown is famous for saying, Just show up. We WILL find a way.” —Patty Harsh

Dave says . . .

Geared Up

Nationals Steamboat Springs Slow-pitch, 1994

Go Again

ith the 1993 debacle behind us, we geared up to go again. As we grew, we had fun. We solved problems, worked through frustrations, learned lots of lessons, and created defining cornerstone moments.

But amidst all this, we had no idea that fourteen years later we’d bid a sad, but timely, goodbye to our first true love, slow-pitch soball.

We had no idea that fourteen years later we’d bid a sad, but timely, goodbye to our first true love, slow-pitch softball.

148.

“Moving into our new building at 3930 Automation Way in Fort Collins and building batting cages was a 1998 cornerstone moment.” —Dave King

In 1993, Dave moved Triple Crown into the youth market.

2007 Market Collapse John says . . .

Youth Market

ave is a great innovator. He always figured out how to keep Triple Crown alive. Even when we struggled to be profitable, he provided good career paths and fair wages.

en along came the global financial crises of 20072008. Many economists called it “the worst financial disaster since the Great Depression.” Once again, I tip my hat to Dave. He saw it coming, so he prepared to handle all the changes on deck.

That led us to rethinking our original strategy. We now direct teams, families, and staﬀ to a partner hotel. at hotel pays us ten bucks for every room we book. In 2016, alone, we booked around 275,000 hotel rooms. Do the math. Stay-to-play literally changed Triple Crown. But our strategy isn’t just about Triple Crown. Our partner hotels oﬀer the best rates, easier check-ins, and amenities like extra towels. Some even put up umpires for free.

Keri says . . .

All Alone

Dave understood that parents will always find disposable, discretionary income for enjoyable family vacations that create lifelong memories. So way back in ’93, he moved us into the youth market. Brilliant.

tay-to-play was definitely and resoundingly a Dave King idea. He had to pull teeth to get staﬀ to buy in. Even I was a nay-sayer. He was all alone on this one. Truthfully, it was one of our most adverse employeeboss situations ever. We all revolted, and he won. ank God he did because stay-to-play has made us profitable for the past decade.

Kirk says . . .

Traffic Cop

Roland says . . .

tay-to-play is a brilliant concept Triple Crown started in 2007. Originally, we went into a community and made a deal with a hotel. In exchange for a $1,000 sponsorship ad in our magazine, the hotel became what we called our “headquarters hotel.” We hoped they got lots of business, but had no way to track it and received no benefit from rooms booked.

t takes an astute, darn smart bulldog to sell national sponsorships. at defines David King’s skill set to a T. He sold the big boys all by himself. Aer he courted them and won, we thought we were hot stuﬀ. At least for a few years, they brought lots to the table.

Stay-to-Play

Finally the light bulb lit: We create traffic jams in our communities. We then become a traffic cop and fix the snarl-up by directing traffic to a safe haven. at safe haven is a hotel. In exchange for our work, we deserve a piece of the action.

Sponsors

Bulldog

Anheuser-Bush was our core partner, and we were Bud Light’s oﬃcial slow-pitch brand. ey oﬀered a six-figure cash deal. On top of that, AB national endorsed us to local distributors around the country. I could walk into a Bud distributorship in, say, Jackson, Mississippi and pick up a $2,000 lay-down sponsorship package. 151.

Magic Truck John says . . .

ational sponsors added magic to our events. During the early ’90s, the huge Bud Light “magic truck” rolled up. Her side flipped open. Voila: an instant bar, complete with beer taps, bar stools, and loud music. At event’s end, the crew folded her up, put her back together, and she pulled away looking just like hundreds of other Bud trucks that hauled beer around—until her next gig.

Dave says . . .

Local Sponsors

Our sponsorship storyboard is about lessons learned . . .

he staﬀ and I, collectively, knocked on restaurant and hotel doors and sold ads in our national event venues. For other tournaments, the staﬀ went into communities in teams of two and sold to a local fault circuit. eir experience of being on the road together defined them—it bonded our organization.

National Sponsorships

nce I was confident local sponsorships were under control, I took on national sponsorships. At the time, national sponsors seemed like a great idea. It was an interesting ride, but it didn’t take us in the direction we needed to go.

National sponsor, Wilson Sporting Goods

As background, our national sponsors were AnheuserBush, Russel Athletic, Louisville Slugger, Bauer Skates, Wilson, and Nike. It was nice to be identified with the all-powerful brands. It was fun to throw their names around. But it was a critical, defining moment when Triple Crown grew up and said, “Our real customers are teams, players, and communities, not sponsors.”

Nike

he Nike storyboard starts with soball and ends with soccer:

We built a soccer business. en I struggled with it. We took on women’s Division I pro soccer and even built a field for it—a field that’s now a baseball field. Truthfully, youth soccer in Europe was crooked when Nike got us involved. And I’m not afraid to say that out loud. My main frustration with soccer is that it’s so controlled. People who ran me out of soccer are guys like Sepp Blatter, the once president of Fédération Internationale de Football Association (FIFA). Today, he along with many others, have been indicted or thrown into a European jail where they belong. Anyway, back in the ’90s, we’d built a 100-tournament soccer series that we co-managed with Nike. Triple Crown Sports produced the soccer tournaments, Nike sponsored them, and the local youth soccer club provided event sanctioning through FIFA. Time passed. e series did so well in North America the European Football Association—EUFA—wanted to duplicate it in Europe. One night, Tom Clarke, Nike’s then-president, and I sat in a convention center hotel, drank a beer or two, and argued about Nike’s direction with Triple Crown. I thought we’d settled on a plan, so I flew to Europe and met with EUFA folks. e outcome was FIFA, the international body of football (soccer), and EUFA literally held a monopoly. Youth soccer teams had to send money to the governing bodies—a.k.a. “Blatter and his buddies.” Four years later, the very day our Nike contract was up for click renewal, they delivered legal recourse, stepped out, took our top fourteen events, and cut their own deal with FIFA’s boys.

152.

Top of the Mountain Awards Ceremony, Steamboat, 1993, Gene Plummer, Rod Crawford, Dave King

With that, I recognized national sponsors had their footprints all over who and what we were. eir big exposure and big presence wasn’t for us. We’d compromised our value system by focusing on what sponsors wanted instead of what our real customers wanted. And here’s the real kicker: We weren’t even profitable.

Local sponsors had similar career paths. We’d set up events and annualize their weekends. en aer three or four years they’d say, “ank you very much. But we’ve played our part. Gig’s over.”

I said, “No more! Whatever our price and profit are, we will build Triple Crown for our real customers. I’m finished answering to some twenty-five-year-old brand manager, trained on the East Coast, who doesn’t know squat about anything, including his own brand.”

hroughout the 1990s, we trained lots of sharp, young brand managers. We had a full-time, expert, in-house survey department that researched and produced customer preference data for each sponsor, for each event. Some were intrigued; some found it interesting; none used it.

Movin’ On

ational sponsors gave us other headaches: We’d change our product and service to meet their needs. But when their agenda ran out in two or three years, they baled, took their awards with them, and le us hanging. Players would get in our face and say, “What the hell’s wrong with you? Are you guys getting cheap, or what?” And that le a black mark on our consistent, predictable, professional foundation. I remember the day Pat Hodges, Anheuser-Bush’s national rep, said, “You know, Dave, we’ve been with you seven years. Together we built the Budweiser-Triple Crown slow-pitch soball series. en we took it across America. at’s amazing. But I gotta tell you, bull riding is sexier than soball. We’re movin’ on.”

Time Will Tell

is all built up. So in a cynical moment, I picked up the phone and ended our relationships with major sponsors Anheuser-Bush, Russell Athletic, Wilson, and Bauer. When I got to Louisville Slugger, Jack Hillerich, their president, said, “We want to stay.” So I kept him, and only him. National sponsors were always an enigma. Even though I eventually trained some of the best sponsorship sales people in America we weren’t profitable. e moment we got out and focused on our real customer, we turned the corner. It took us almost twenty years to hire back an outside sponsorship representation. I’ve explained our lessons learned. e sponsor knows we won’t let them drive our decisions. Only time will tell if they fit into our defined space. 153.

Dave and Annette traveled to Sapporo to set up slow-pitch soball. e Japanese mistook the communication and were ready for girls’ fastpitch. ey were ahead of us.

Name in Lights John says . . .

Softball Magazine

ack in the day, soball wasn’t a professional sport, so it didn’t get as much attention as, say, baseball. en, in 1996, Soball Magazine, out of Florida, started distribution. e national magazine soon took oﬀ and pushed soball and us into the limelight. at was our first push to strengthen our brand through a media partner, and it was great to see our name in lights.

Memory Moments

Nor’easter in Saint Augustine Patty says . . .

here’s something magical about the fields in St. John’s County, Saint Augustine, Florida. But the real magic is the relationship we built with the staﬀ.

In 1994, we arrived in Saint Augustine ready to play ball. But the weather had other plans: e rain came down sideways in buckets. e wind blew like a Banshee. We couldn’t see out our windows. A classic Nor’easter confined us to our hotel for thirty-six hours.

When we finally ventured out to look at our fields, the consensus was unanimous: NO WAY! No one can play ball on these fields for at least a month. en somehow, someway, the sun came out, and the staﬀ in Saint John’s County pumped water oﬀ the fields and worked their magic to transform the mess into a ray of hope. By mid-morning teams everywhere from New York, to Texas, to Arizona called and said, “Hey! We heard about the Nor’easter. What’s up?” Triple Crown is famous for saying, “Just show up. We will find a way.” 155.

Ed Jones John says . . .

iring the right officials is a challenge. We trust and rely on local community assignors to help us source providers. en we make phone calls to conduct interviews, explain event details, and agree on fees. Most communities only have a couple providers, so unless we bring in officials from outside the market and pay for their travel, food, and hotel, we go with who’s available locally. Officials form their own fraternity. ey bond with each other. Rarely do they receive accolades for good things. Instead, people tell loud stories about their mistakes. I’ll never forget Ed Jones. Ed was Dave’s good friend and a long-time staff member. Sorry to say Ed passed away, but he’s still a Triple Crown legend. Ed worked as an assignor, which meant he scheduled soball events. He built relationships throughout the country and was very professional. In the same breath, I need to say that Ed liked to have a good time and was known for his “extracurricular activities.” I can still picture him during our World Series events in Steamboat. Come aernoon, we never had to ask, “Where’s Ed?” He was sitting in his chair, next to his cooler, behind his Jeep Wagoneer, surrounded by a dozen officials. Certainly, officials showed up to collect their pay and get their questions answered. More certainly, they showed up to shoot the shit and tip a beer—or two—with Ed. Note: Ed Jones’s ashes are located near the home plate umpire stands, behind home plate, at Triple Crown’s Headquarters Field.

156.

Dave says . . .

Twin Brothers

Patty says . . .

n 1994, twin brothers got caught up in playing in slow-pitch tournaments in South Florida. Ours took place in January and February. So during the final year of one brother’s major-league baseball career he negotiated a contract that allowed him to skip spring training and play in Triple Crown’s slow-pitch tournaments.

ne morning, as I was checking my bags at Denver International, a guy approached me. “Hey!” he said. “Where you headed?” He was wearing a red and blue Delta Airlines vest, so I figured I was safe.

BTW: e guy’s name is Jose Canseco. His identical twin is Ozzie Canseco.

Hard-luck Harry

I said, “I’m off to Florida.” He said, “What’s up with the soball gear?” I said, “I work for Triple Crown Sports. We run sports events. Our slow-pitch Fall Nationals in Saint Augustine is big-time.” He came back with, “Are you kidding me? I had no idea a company like yours even existed. Travel is down aer 9/11, so I’m taking an early retirement. Maybe I can work your events? My name’s Harry. Remember me.” I said, “For sure. Get in touch. Bye, Harry,” and boarded my plane. Eventually, Harry became my right-hand guy. One weekend in preparation for two events in Las Vegas, we packed the trailer with a ton of stuff, Harry hooked it to the truck, and I boarded a plane for Vegas. Harry had his CDL and was a great transport driver, so I never thought twice about him driving from Fort Collins to Vegas. By the time Harry got to I-70, it started to snow and rain, so the roads were super icy. Harry rounded a curve. e truck slipped onto the shoulder. e trailer hit the ground. It flipped over, and came unhooked from the truck. Harry was fine, but when he opened the trailer to check the damage, hundreds of balls bounced onto I-70. Traffic stopped. Harry looked at his watch. He muttered, “Oh, geez. You gotta be kidding me. I’ll never make it to Vegas on time.”

Jose Canseco, TCS slow-pitch, 1994

Somehow he found a pay phone, called me, told his story, and then said, “Patty! I think I can get the trailer hooked up, but these G-damn balls are everywhere— on the highway, over the cliﬀ, down the mountain. It’ll take all weekend just to pick ’em up.” 157.

World’s Largest Barbeque

threw the “World’s Largest Barbeque” at Steamboat and prepared enough food to fulfill my promise. One person bought a couple chicken legs. One person bought a cake.

Keri says . . .

Roger Clemens As good as Harry was, he always had a hard-luck story. Working with Harry was . . . well, an adventure. So I said, “It’s okay, Harry. Just close the trailer’s door and get here. We’ll sort it out then. Be careful, now.” It was a nightmare. e trailer was a real mess. But we dug through it. And, once again, when the teams arrived, Triple Crown pulled oﬀ both tournaments seamlessly, and life went on.

Texas Hold ’Em

ave encourages us to put a spin on events. So as I prepared for Spring Nationals in Vegas, I thought: Why not have an authentic Texas Hold ’Em tournament? I made a huge deal out of it—really promoted it to my teams. I rented a room at Arizona Charlie’s Decatur—my headquarters hotel. Certain I would have huge participation, I had twenty-five tables, snacks, drinks, cards, and Tshirts all set to go. Come night of the event, I waited. . . I waited. . . I waited. By evening end, I barely made one table—and that was my friends.

Long-ball Contest

ne year I tried to put on a long-ball contest at the top of Rabbit Ears Pass. My idea was teams would stop and participate on their way to Steamboat. ree people stopped. 158.

met Roger Clemens—the rocket—in Steamboat. Roger’s balls touched 100 miles an hour. Nobody else threw that hard. Good for Roger. Too bad he didn’t have better manners. In 2004, Triple Crown invited three professional athletes to bring their kids to Steamboat. Ozzie Smith and Dale Murphy were perfect gentlemen. eir teams were well disciplined. en there was this team of ten-year-old rowdies from Katie, Texas. Roger’s son played on the team, and he was one of four coaches. e tournament started. Roger’s team got pounded. He got mad. en Roger’s kid was called out on a close play at second. He got really mad. Out of nowhere, “somebody” spit sunflower seeds on the umpire. Roger got tossed. e incident made headline news in the small town Craig Daily Press. e next morning ESPN took the story national. Dad got hammered with phone calls. For two days he dodged interviews. On day three he told the media to back off. He’d handle it. Roger had four attorneys; Triple Crown had one; the umpire had one. Everybody was on the same conference call. Everybody talked at the same time. Roger offered to fly in and reenact the episode. But Dad said, “Roger! Roger! Roger! You’re too used to getting your way.” Aer five minutes of this nonsense, Dad said to Roger, “Get everybody off the phone except you and me. I’ll handle the media, but if I have to talk to even one more lawyer you might as well join the circus.” As it turned out, Dad gave Roger instructions, Roger followed them, and within a couple days it was a non-story.

Roger Clemens was used to getting his own way, but he did sign a commemorative ball that acknowledged the sunflower seed spitting incident.

Close Out Annette says . . .

Patty says . . .

It Was Time

That Hug

n 2008, it was time to close out slow-pitch. Dave and I felt it. It was no diﬀerent for us than it was for other avid, hard-core soball players: Our kids played; other players’ kids played. at demanded lots of time. It was hard to make it to everything. Closing out slow-pitch was a slow death, normal evolution. We chose between following our kids and doing our own thing. Like with everything else at Triple Crown we do it because we love it and allow the business to reflect changes in our personal lives.

s Dave says, when Triple Crown got out of slowpitch we said goodbye to our first true love. Our last hurrah was July 4, 2008 in Steamboat Springs. We worked hard to make sure all the right people were there to say farewell. Longtime team members and even our eighty-year-old, retired National Umpire in Chief attended. I still feel sad all the way from my eyeballs to my bellybutton when I think about the motion we’d created, where we’d been, and the magnitude of our decision. Yet, if we continued to fight the battles we faced, our business model wouldn’t sustain future growth. I’ll never forget our final day. David and I came together on the field and gave each other that hug. It was so much more than a “Geez, we’ve done all of this, but this is it” hug. It was a hug of confidence. We knew what we’d done was super special and would never be forgotten. It was a hug of courage. We knew our core foundation was solid. It was a hug of anticipation. We knew we’d move it forward. It was a hug of excitement. We knew our future was out there just waiting to explode.

We knew what we’d done was super special and would never be forgotten. We knew our core foundation was solid.

Dave and Annette King say, “Goodbye, slow-pitch soball.” 160.

We knew our future was out there just waiting to explode.

Dave King’s exit letter to Triple Crown's first true love, slow-pitch softball 2008 marked the end of a tremendous 27 year run of top-notch Slowpitch Soball tournaments. For 27 years we have been the standard bearer in high-end slowpitch tournaments. We are very proud of the association we have had with the players, coaches, umpires, communities, facilities, and manufacturers during our run. In the end, there were just not enough customers for what we did. Our decision was shaped by the following factors that affected our continued success. 1. e game became out of balance between offense and defense. With the advent of hotter and hotter bats, the balance swung heavily toward offense-hitting. is rewarded less and less of the finer points of defense. Safety became an issue and without completely moving to wood bats (which we considered) it is destined to be a hitter’s game only. e advent of metal/composite decreased the quantity of players in the game. 2. e demographics of the US population have aged and lifestyles have changed. Significantly less people are in the key 30-40 year old adult demographic to play. e adult slowpitch tournament market is 20% of its peak in 1995. Many of those same people are pressed with the exploding growth of youth travel ball and the need and desire to follow their children. Another group of young adults have played the 100 game schedules and toured America as youth sport participants and are seeking new sports activities. Lifestyles have changed dramatically for our core customer/player. 3. e entry price needed to cover business type costs has not immerged. We commit full time professionals and support staff to insure the quality of success of our adult slowpitch events. Each event has costs of nearly $250 per team for fields, umpires, insurance and awards. A professional manager costs nearly the same. at puts our price at near $500 per team to cover costs. at price seems to be above the current majority of the markets threshold and organizational or sponsor level. We are a business that prides ourselves in cost efficient event management, but a model done with paid professional event managers. 4. e organizational leaders of a team have diminished. Our core customer is a well organized and well funded team. is takes time and money from key individuals that love the game. Many who have mastered team organization have moved on to other pursuits and not enough new organizers are replacing them. Our mission as a company is to build and operate premium must attend events; Events with great locations, competition and additional entertainment opportunities. We have been very successful in building this model in youth and college sports as well and will continue to push this business model. e experience we gained is immeasurable. ank you for your many years of support and our hope is that you continue to enjoy the game you all helped create. With that, we must say good bye for now to our first true love . . . . . “Triple Crown Slowpitch”.

162.

“Each new event supports our ‘Burning Learning’ values statement.” —Keri King

Dave says . . .

Profit Revenue

Premium

ack in the ’90s, we ran up to 600 events annually, but only seven or eight were premium. Today, 40 out of 100 total events are premium, and our profit revenue is threefold.

Over the years, some events stuck, some didn’t. If I could go back in time, would I make diﬀerent decisions? Maybe. Maybe not.

He SCORES!

Roller Hockey (Inline) 1992-2004

oller hockey started at Denmark Roller Rink in London back in the 1800s. Two teams, five players each, laced on quad skates, grabbed canes, and tried to shoot a ball or puck into their opponent’s cage. He SCORES! Rules were simple and succinct: e team with the most goals wins.

e game’s fast action and team play elevated it to be popular worldwide. In 1991, a group of investors formed Roller Hockey International and recruited former professional ice hockey stars. Its New Jersey “Rockin’ Rollers” featured the league’s only woman goalie—Olympic silver medalist, Manon Rheaume. TCS rolled into action in 1992. Crew designed outdoor portable rinks, and Keri and Kasey served as wall-testing guinea pigs. But as John says, “We loaded our rinks onto TCS trailers, drove them from coast to coast, and set up in parking lots. Game over, our crew broke them down, reloaded, and took oﬀ to the next location. It was fun, but the game was destined to move inside to ice. When it did, we exited.” 166.

End of Story

Youth Soccer 1993-1998

magine this: It’s a perfect picture-postcard Saturday morning in Any Town, USA. Parents stand on the sidelines of community soccer fields watching kids chase a black and white ball. ey cheer on their very own junior forward, midfielder, or perhaps even the team’s star goalie. Aer America hosted the World Cup, soccer kicked its way into becoming one of the most popular youth sports in America. Webster’s dictionary even added “soccer mom” to its prestigious publication.

In 1993, Triple Crown partnered with Nike and joined the fervor. e Nike-Triple Crown National Tournament Series showcased 100 boys’ and girls’ tournaments and 60 plus 3-on-3 soccer tournaments across America. But as Dave says, “We partnered with host clubs to build a massive national series. As it turned out, the power of Europe and Nike ruled our future, and when Nike pulled out unexpectedly, that was it. End of story.” Lesson learned: Partners aren’t always partners. 169.

The Wheels Fell Off

3-on-3 Basketball and Soccer 1993-1997 ids first played scrappy 3-on-3 pick-up basketball and soccer on concrete slabs and in dirt fields. Rules were catch-as-catch-can. No harm, no foul.

For Triple Crown 3-on-3 wasn’t quite that simple. In 1993, TCS signed an agreement with Cramer Sports to enter the 3-on-3 market. Business decisions were solid: Build on Cramer’s strong foundation. Oﬀer additional tournaments.

But as Dave says, “We went national and international with the basketball series, and youth 3-on-3 soccer is still alive today through the spin-oﬀ of our partner company, Cramer. But in 1997, our values fractured, and the wheels fell oﬀ. So we sold our fiy percent share back to Dan Cramer and Chris Carrico and parted ways.”

170.

Too Far, Too Fast

Events on Foreign Soil 1993-1997

y 1993, Triple Crown had the domestic sports world by the tail. Why not spin oﬀ to international events? Certainly they would be grand—even glamorous:

√ Slow-pitch played in Canada, Dublin, London—even on the tropical island of Guam √ Soball Down Under—played on an Australian cricket field √ Boys’ and girls’ 3-on-3 played in Paris, the City of Lights

But as Dave says, “We had lots of fun. But we grew too far, too fast. Plus, international athletes expect sponsors to pay, so the U.S. model of participant fees just didn’t work. Near bankruptcy is a VERY teachable moment.” 173.

Adult Babysitting

Professional Athlete Management 1999-2005

ne morning, Becky Hammon and her coach, Tom Collen, dropped by Dave’s oﬃce. Becky said, “Believe it or not, Dave, the WNBA passed me by. I don’t have an agent, so will you represent me—please?”

Dave said, “Beck, I don’t even know how to get you into a camp.” Coach Collen said, “No problem. I’ll get Becky into a camp. You manage her.” Dave thought back to the BusinessWeek article he read way back in 1987—the article that convinced him Triple Crown could be a real business. If IMG’s Mark McCormack could manage professional athletes, so could David King. Dave agreed, and within months Becky Hammon signed with New York Liberty. Easy! So Dave appointed two Triple Crown employees to run the program, and Triple Crown added professional athlete management to its mix. irty players and six long years later TCS decided managing athletes didn’t stand up to its “No grunts; No servants” values statement and shut down their adult babysitting service. But the friendship with Becky and all the other players continues.

Great Run

Women’s Professional Basketball 2004-2006 uring the late ’90s, Dave King developed an itch for women’s professional sports. One thing led to another, and in 2004, Dave scratched his itch with TC’s very own Colorado Chill.

TCS joined the newly formed National Women’s Basketball League and Dave built a roster of all-stars, including Becky Hammon, Katie Cronin, and Ruth Riley. Teams played during the oﬀseason of the WNBA. It was a good alternative to women playing oﬀseason in Europe.

Becky’s career included star power on two WNBA teams, Olympic gold, and eventually the San Antonio Spurs named her “first female NBA assistant coach.” During basketball’s glory days at CSU, Katie was named to its all-conference team. She came in second in total career points—one behind her hot-shot teammate, Becky Hammon. Along with bringing home Olympic gold, Ruth earned MVP honors at both collegiate and WNBA levels. Everybody loved Triple Crown’s “girls.” Fans bought season tickets and packed Bud Center’s arena. e Chill took home league championships. Dave King and TC employees had the most fun—ever. But as Dave says, “It was a great run but a bad business decision for TCS.” 176.

Everybody loved Triple Crown’s “girls.”

Girls Rock!

Girls’ Youth Basketball 2004-Forward

hen Smith College girls first took the basketball court in 1892, they played a polite game. Peach baskets served as hoops. Uniforms were royal blue bloomers and flat dress shoes. e original 13 rules forbid running, dribbling, and ball grabbing. Spectators were strictly women. Aer all, bloomers were immodest garments— inappropriate to even mention around men.

Full-court press ahead to 1972—newspaper headlines shouted the good news: American Athletic Union Sanctions Girls’ National Championship Basketball Games! Ten years later 13 age groups played in annual championship games. Basketball is America’s most popular sport. Of its 26 million players, one quarter are female, and nearly half are under the age of eighteen. Over 185 million fans tuned in to watch the most recent women’s NCAA tournaments. TCS girls first took the court in 2004. Currently, Triple Crown oﬀers national events, tournaments, camps, and clinics. Top college prospects showcase their skills during the Western Championship.

Full-court press ahead to 1972—

newspaper headlines shouted the good news: American Athletic Union Sanctions Girls’ National Championship Basketball Games!

178.

Need for Speed

Drift Car Racing 2012-2015

ri car racing—driing—is all about speed . . . angle . . . line . . . clipping points . . . clipping zones . . . touchand-go . . . carnage . . . and, frankly, showmanship. Drivers intentionally oversteer to lose rear wheel traction, all the while fighting to maintain control, all the while banking into turns.

TC’s 2013 Dri Week was a lifestyle event. Complete with four diﬀerent tracks, a gymkhana course, dri kart, autocross, and the “Sickest Entry” contest, the celebration coughed up plenty of smoke. Even the pros—drivers who prefer to compete in prestigious Formula D events—showed up for Triple Crown’s first-timer. e all-star roster included Tony Angelo, Matt Field, and TC’s own Kasey King. CBS sports streamed the event live. When the Nationwide Productions crew showed up, the crowd went wild. As Kasey says, “Dri car racers have a need for speed. It was AW-SOME . . . three days of driing bliss, but the business model didn’t surface.”

Winners: Tony Angelo, Matt Field, and Kasey King

179.

Set ’em Up, Girls

Volleyball 2013-Forward

ack in 1895, a phys ed director in Holyoke, Massachusetts had a problem: Older YMCA members needed a gentle indoor sport that demanded athletic eﬀort. Hmmm . . . What if I combine badminton, tennis, handball, and basketball and create a new game called “mintonette.” His brainstorm hit it over the net. As mintonette spread to Ys around the country an astute observer named it “volleyball.”

In 2013, Triple Crown invited 25 top volleyball club directors to Fort Collins where they talked about what worked and what was missing in the world of elite volleyball. Dave King and event director, Sean Hardy, listened carefully. e very next year TCS rolled out Triple Crown Volleyball Championships in Salt Lake City. irty-eight teams competed. By 2018, the President’s Day tournament expanded to over 400 teams. ere’s more: Top college coaches from around the nation liken President’s Day to Volleyball Recruiting Day. Set ’em up, girls! Nobody says it better than Munciana’s winning coach, Mike Lingenfelter. “Triple Crown’s event is second to none. I looked at all other President’s Day tournaments. Kudos to each. Munciana even hosts one. But there’s no comparison to Triple Crown’s event regarding competition, event management, and hospitality. To win this is a big deal because ninety percent of big-time teams are in this thing.”

Fastest Game on Two Feet

Lacrosse 2017—Onward

acrosse—first known as stickball—arrived in Canada around 1100 CE. Over time, it traveled south to the Saint Lawrence Valley where America’s Native Americans took up the sport.

A chief tossed a fur-filled-deerskin ball in the air. Between 100 and 100,000 paint-decorated warriors wielded sticks fitted with dew-sinew nets and staged a mass attack. e two rules were simple: A player’s hand must not touch the ball. Nothing is out of bounds. Games were major events played over several days on expansive open terrains—some even settled tribal disputes. According to legend, early seventeenth century French Jesuit missionaries named the game lacrosse aer the staff— la crosse—their Bishops carried. True or not, long-time fans claim lacrosse is the “fastest game on two feet.” Triple Crown’s lacrosse history is far more recent. In 2017, TCS partnered with Florida United Lacrosse to expand Florida United’s existing lacrosse program. Nearly 500 teams and 7,500 players played in the 2017 events. As Keri says, “Florida United’s CEO, Tom West, and his staff have deep relationships with teams, staff, and partners. ese relationships, combined with their values, are in alignment with TCS for a strong partnership. Add TC’s thirty-six years of fundamental event insight to Tom’s passion for lacrosse and you come out with a dynamic and explosive product.” Before long, Triple Crown staff will throw around garbage goal, goat, goon squad, and grandma goal as easily as they do fastpitch, floater, fire ball, and free throw.

Before long, Triple Crown staff will throw around

garbage goal, goat, goon squad, and grandma goal as easily as they do

fastpitch, floater, fire ball, and free throw. 182.

Triple Crownâ€™s first lacrosse game, 2017

“Girls’ fastpitch and boys’ baseball produce 80 percent of our revenue.” —Dave King, 2018

The Crowd Goes Wild Girls’ Fastpitch Softball

he pitcher winds up. She hurls a soball—underhand—windmill style. It travels 30, 50, up to 70 miles an hour. But its trajectory is far from straight. It shis up, down, sideways. e batter kicks her toe in the dirt. She’s ready. But the pitcher dominates girls’ fastpitch. Girls’ fastpitch first delighted crowds back in the 1930s. In 1956, Connecticut Brakettes was the first American team to compete in an international World Series. ey brought home silver. e crowd went wild.

TCS players Jenna Jordan and Trinty Harrington, who became fastpitch collegiate stars For as long as Dave King can remember his parents advocated girls’ sports. He might tell you his first love was girls’ basketball. en in 1992, TCS started Mountain Magic in Steamboat Springs. Girls’ fastpitch took oﬀ, and Dave fell in love all over again. In 2013, fastpitch became Triple Crown’s largest profit producer, and by 2015 it was the largest revenue producer. e crowd still goes wild. 186.

Chelsea Oâ€™Conner King TCS Fastpitch Star

Sponsor Backing Dave says . . . .

uring the early ’90s, we turned the corner and started doing some really neat stuﬀ. Our big sponsors—Nike, Russell Athletics, and Louisville Slugger in particular—believed we were capable of adding youth sports events and said they’d back us.

So we looked at our programs and saw we shared many of our slow-pitch facilities with girls’ fastpitch and boys’ baseball. ere were many collision moments, but we figured it out and moved forward into youth sports.

Triple Crown of Fastpitch

n 1992, I just happened to mention to Jerry Brumit, who headed up the Buckaroos, that based on our relationships in Steamboat we could run a neat little tournament there in June and call it Mountain Magic. at led to a major discussion with two of Colorado’s largest events—the Classic and Fireworks Independence Day. e first leg was Mountain Magic, in Steamboat, the second was Colorado Classic, and the third was Fireworks Independence Day. We called our tournament the Triple Crown of Fastpitch. e event took oﬀ immediately, and is our oldest, in-house-started fastpitch event.

188.

Mountain Magic

overning bodies sanction events. At the time, the Amateur Soball Association (ASA) was the only governing body for fastpitch. We needed ASA’s blessing because without it we couldn’t get oﬃcials, and without oﬃcials we couldn’t play. We always had a love-hate relationship with ASA, but by 1995 we’d fallen completely out of its graces in both slow-pitch and fastpitch. at’s when Bill Pilcher came on the scene. Bill had worked for us full-time in slow-pitch. He did a great job, so I gave him an assignment to take the concept we’d developed for Mountain Magic and determine if we could run it in a location where ASA didn’t own the moment. Southern California was the hottest girls’ fastpitch market in the country. Even though we never ran girls’ fastpitch outside Colorado, Bill flew to California to check out possibilities. Before long, he was friends with every club in the area, and they adopted us. As Bill told our Steamboat story, clubs claimed they’d drive to Colorado to play in a championship game. We believed them. So before we got fastpitch going strong anywhere else in America, we introduced our championship in Steamboat and invited lots of California teams and a few Colorado teams to play. A “robust” ten teams entered. Besides that, Hell’s Angels held their worldwide convention in Steamboat that week, so every SWAT team in Colorado descended.

TC Stars player Haley Donaldson aî‚?er hitting back-to-back grand slams

Traction

egardless, Steamboat National Championship caught traction, and over the next year we grew to 40 teams. e following year we split into boys’ baseball, ran the events simultaneously, and jumped to 100 teams. So we had to find a new home, and that’s when we took girls’ fastpitch to Park City, Utah. In 1999, my daughter, Kelly, asked me to coach fastpitch, and said that she would play. We got pretty good aer a slow start. By 2002, our team—the TC Stars—was ready to play in the big Colorado tournaments held over the Fourth of July. None would take us. So in order to play, we started the Sparkler in 2002. With its nearly 1,000 teams it is now the biggest event in soball history.

Over the years we grew a successful fastpitch division of authentic fastpitch players built around TC’s club team, our eighteen-and-under club team, and our summer women’s team. Based on the modeling concept of rolling it out with our own team that we build from local talent, the division has become the largest division in the company. Fieen people work in the division full-time, and ten coach actively. e TC Stars is in in its 20th year, and to this day is a key part of the conversation about how, what, and why we build what we do. BTW: We ended up buying the Fireworks Tournament, one of the two Colorado events that wouldn’t let the TC Stars play in 2002. e Fireworks will celebrate its 50th anniversary in 2018.

190.

TC Stars are a key part of the conversation about how, what, and why Triple Crown builds its events.

TCS Fastpitch Park City, Utah

TCS Fastpitch World Series

ummer 2018 marks the 22nd year for the Triple Crown Fastpitch World Series.

√ e 10u and 12u event takes place in the historic mountain town of Park City, Utah. Opening ceremonies include a costume parade in downtown Park City. √ e 14u teams head to San Diego’s beaches for a week of sunshine and soball. Before “real” competition begins, players cheer on head coaches during the coaches’ slow-pitch game. √ Look for high intensity play from the 16u and 18u teams in Reno, Nevada—the “Biggest Little City in the World.” Competition begins with an opening night team bowling party.

Batter Up!

Boys’ Baseball obody knows when the first boy picked up the first baseball bat. But in 1938, Carl Stotz organized the first boys’ baseball league in Williamsport, Pennsylvania and coined the name “Little League.”

e next year Lundy Lumber defeated Lycoming Dairy 23-8 during the first ever Little League game, and boys’ baseball was literally oﬀ and running. Today more than 2,000,000 boys, representing 200,000 teams, from all 50 states and 80 foreign countries live for the moment the umpire roars, “Batter up!” Most likely Triple Crown fell in love with boys’ baseball back in 1963 when budding tournament organizer, sevenyear-old Dave King, picked up his first baseball bat. It was formalized 29 years later when Triple Crown Sports rolled out its first boys’ baseball program. Dave’s first true sports event was hosting the OTA Summer Baseball League and District Championships in Meeker while he was coaching in 1975 and onward. In 1980, he hosted the Babe Ruth thirteen-year-old State Championships. His tournament mind was heavily shaped by those experiences. By the late 1990s, the TCS Baseball Division became its largest team and event producer and led the company in revenue and profits for nearly twenty years.

Most likely Triple Crown fell in love with boys’ baseball back in 1963 when budding tournament organizer, seven-year-old Dave King, picked up his first baseball bat. 194.

Rollout

Sean says . . .

n 1992, Triple Crown ran a pilot boys’ baseball tournament in Steamboat Springs. at event kicked oﬀ our boys’ baseball program as we know it today.

Two years later, in 1994, Dave and Roland Riviera rolled out a series of boys’ baseball tournaments. ey tackled seven or eight events with a very limited budget. Based on what they did in the past, they ran most tournaments in Colorado. en there was the long-shot: ey teamed up with the Mickey Owen Baseball School and ran a tournament outside Springfield, Missouri.

Innovative and Revolutionary

uring the ’90s boys could throw an unlimited number of pitches during a single game or over a weekend. So the rules Dave and Roland established to protect young pitchers’ arms were innovative and revolutionary. But the real revolution was tournament baseball, which had been the domain of season-ending governing body championships only. In addition, they picked up on what they’d learned from soball and established rules about scheduling and providing game balls. We transported game balls to soball games, but they disappeared quickly. So when we started boys’ baseball, Dave and Roland decided teams had to bring their own balls. is all increased teams’ costs and changed traditions. So everybody told us teams wouldn’t pay our entry fees, or they wouldn’t play by our new rules. Even though this was Dave and Roland’s first crack at boys’ baseball they were confident and believed we could sustain a long-term business model. And they were correct—teams were pleased with our wellorganized events; they were impressed by our good umpires; they enjoyed the atmosphere we created.

Expansion

ith a successful 1994 behind us, I started working full-time in boys’ baseball in 1995. We decided to keep events regional so I set up baseball tournaments in in places like Rock Springs, Wyoming, Cheyenne, Nebraska, and Dodge City, Kansas. Dave coached Keri’s fieen-to-eighteen-year-old’s baseball team, so he brought his team to play in the Rock Springs tournament. at was great on two levels. One, our own team subsidized the event. Two, Rock Springs teams liked the fact that a team from Colorado played in the tournament. Word spread. Before long we ran between three and eighteen tournaments, per age group, in surrounding communities. Our model included promoting our tournaments through spokespersons. Dante Bichette, who played for the Colorado Rockies, was the spokesperson for the baseball division. Dante recorded a radio ad for us, then we went into the markets, teamed up with the local radio stations, and they sold sponsorships and promoted our events. So we ended up with no-cost ads and local teams that participated in our events. From there we kept expanding.

196.

Rock-star athletes promoted TCS events.

Mickey Owen Baseball

197.

School

e were familiar with the Mickey Owen Baseball School model—kids spent two weeks in cabins, ate dorm food, and immersed themselves in baseball 24/7. So we flew Mickey Owen staff to Colorado. Along with our staff, we ran a Mickey Owen baseball camp in Steamboat Springs and Craig under the name Triple CrownMickey Owen Baseball School. Our camps were successful for two or three years. But as time passed, we recognized that our setup was very different from Mickey Owen’s setup. On their Louisville campus, kids were contained. But we had to put them in community college dorms. So along with having baseball knowledge, coaches had to supervise kids at night, and that added another level of responsibility. In 2000, we closed down our Mickey Owen camps, but they were the forerunner to a similar Steamboat fastpitch camp we started in 1999.

Tournament Baseball

uring the mid-1990s, tournament baseball didn’t exist. Instead, kids played local league baseball with other neighborhood kids. at meant they played a dozen games locally, and winners went on to regionals, then state, and finally championship games. So some kids and coaches only played between 16 and 20 games a year. True to Triple Crown’s mission, we decided to go beyond league baseball to tournament baseball and create an opportunity for kids to travel and play year-round with All-star type kids. When teams were oﬀered more than weekend-type opportunities the dynamics of the sport changed, and that’s when our baseball division really started to grow. Texas was, and still is, a hotbed for boys’ baseball. As more and more Texas teams traveled to Colorado to play tournament ball, we followed them home and looked into markets and facilities. I especially remember setting up events in a little place called Cowtown Park, in Burleson, Texas. Dave continued to use his team to travel to our various events and help us attract teams from local areas. Every time he went on the road he learned something new, and we used it to our advantage. at made our events innovative in two ways. One, we ran unique tournaments. Two, a club team helped our process.

By the time 1996 rolled around, we realized we had a decent baseball model. So we continued to expand and ended up selling baseball franchises. rough our franchises and internal staﬃng TCS ended up running baseball tournaments in Colorado every weekend between April 1 and season’s end and expanding into states pocketed in the South, West, and all up and down the East Coast.

Every time Dave went on the road he learned something new, and we used it to our advantage. 199.

Flattened Out

n the beginning, we were the only company that ran boys’ baseball tournaments. en USSSA—company huge into soball—got into baseball. Before long, other tournament providers followed. So between 2000 and 2011 opportunities lessened, and the entire industry flattened out. We flattened right along with it. By then, Dave’s boys were in college, so we didn’t maintain a club team or go out into the marketplace, play other teams, and gain market knowledge. We became a company focused on youth and destination baseball and didn’t maintain authentic fieen-to-eighteen-year-old baseball. As happens, other companies filled that niche.

Roots

hen, in 2014, while Keri was transitioning to CEO, TCS returned to networking and getting us back into the fieen-to-eighteen-year-old market.

Triple Crown is known for our premium “must attend” events. We pride ourselves on innovating and exceeding market expectations. Essentially, we’re returning to our roots.

TCS at Bat

he 2018 season marks the 25th year of Triple Crown baseball—a grassroots dream come to life. TCS baseball reaches across the nation to deliver competitive, memorable events that inspire and elevate athletes, teams, and families who join the fun.

√ Spring Championships, Arizona √ Summer Nationals, Myrtle Beach, South Carolina √ Omaha SlumpBuster, Omaha, Nebraska √ World Series, Steamboat Springs, Colorado and Park City, Utah √ Pathway Baseball, Richmond, Virginia; Omaha, Nebraska; Atlanta, Georgia √ US Club Nationals, Atlanta, Georgia √ Fall Championships, Las Vegas, Nevada and Saint Augustine, Florida 200.

Omaha SlumpBuster, 2017

Professional. Predictable. Consistent. â€”TCS

Mantra

Professional. Predictable. Consistent. Dave says . . .

Cornerstone

ack in the ’90s, event directing was, in many cases, an on-the-side job aimed at raising money for directors’ teams or favorite charities. We needed something to pull our part- and full-time staﬀ together—something that would make us stand out to our customers, sponsors, and partner communities. We put out heads together and came up with a slogan: Professional. Predictable. Consistent. To this day, our slogan is a cornerstone of how we operate. It’s our mantra.

John says . . .

Passionate

e’re NOT bankers by day and tournament directors by night. We ARE professionals who are passionate about our careers. We take pride in producing predictable events from planning through execution.

Drill down: Our customers expect and receive the same high-quality experiences in Massachusetts, Montana, or Mexico.

204.

No Problem Bill says . . .

Make It Work

riple Crown’s tournament directors are on top of everything:

√ e hotel oversells its rooms—where will the staff stay? √ Sprinklers wet the field minutes before game time— where’s the turnoff valve? √ e facility misplaces the bases—where do we find bases? √ Head coach So-and-So is stuck in traffic—should his team forfeit, or can we schedule them into a later time slot?

Problem Solvers

he worst—absolute worst—challenge a director deals with is weather. Game day dawns sunny, but at 8 a.m. a torrential rainstorm dumps buckets of water on your field. Even aer the rain stops, it will take five or six hours to get your field ready. Now what?

If the facility has lights, you try to schedule night games. If it doesn’t, you scramble to find a diﬀerent facility. Whatever the outcome, Triple Crown’s tournament directors keep problems in-house. Dave is a sharp guy. He’ll go to bat for us and help us out of really diﬃcult situations. But he expects us to stand by our value statement and be problem solvers, not problem describers—get it said, get it done!

√ An umpire gets lost—where do we locate a Johnnycome-lately oﬃcial? √ A team’s walk-up music is too loud—how do we stop players from intimidating their competition? √ A parent razzes a coach or an oﬃcial—do we politely but firmly escort them out of the facility? √ A grandpa continually and loudly corrects his granddaughter—how do we get him to shut up? No problem. Triple Crown’s tournament directors are organized people people. ey figure it out. ey make it work.

TCS Tournament directors are on top of everything. 205.

Crazy-fun John says . . .

Festivals

ur website reads, “Triple Crown will blow your mind with grandeur, enjoyment, excitement, and location.” I can’t say it better myself. Under Dave’s leadership, our events are festivals. Teams and spectators are excited, involved, energized. We hold homerun and longest-ball contests. One of our all-time favorites is Dash for Cash. Howelsen Hill is a steep ski hill in Steamboat. Dave set money on posts—twenty dollar bills, low level; fiy dollar bills, middle level; hundred dollar bills, top level. The starting gun fired. Contestants made a mad dash straight up the hill. Most were macho guys injected with alcohol courage. YEAH! I’m bad! Some got nowhere and gave up. Some tumbled back down the hill. Some reached the top and threw up. It was a crazy-fun concept. en there was the Rubber Ducky contest on the Yampa River. Contestants bought yellow soballs. Each ball had a number on it. e whistle blew. Balls hit the water. Owners cheered. First ball to cross the finish line won. Its proud owner collected a pot of money and claimed bragging rights.

“We’re one of a handful of sports companies in the country that owns, operates, and produces our own events.” —Patty Harsh

206.

Calling Card John says . . .

Lifetime Memories

first met Dave back in the ’80s when my slow-pitch team played against his in Triple Crown events. My fondest lifetime memories are about playing in those tournaments. Our events were social. People sat around just talking. Young kids and family dogs ran around. Staying in a hotel was “something else.” We filled coolers with ice, beer, and Coke. Families barbecued hot dogs and hamburgers. Local sports bars hosted parties. Live music blared. Summer aer summer, we bonded, had fun, and created lifelong friendships. Calcutta auctions deserve their own storyboard. Dave was an expert auctioneer, with an uncanny ability to create a wild and frenzied atmosphere. He handed out a sheet that listed all the teams in each bracket. en he jumped up on the stage and started the bidding—a hundred and fiy teams were oﬃcially up for grabs. Teams went to the highest bidder. Competition for really good teams was fierce—teammates out-bid each other—entire teams bought themselves. e “dogs” were a diﬀerent story—when nobody bid on a team, players had to throw twenty bucks in the pot. At tournament end, whoever bought the winning teams collected a percentage of the pot. Dave is an innovator extraordinaire—time aer time he outdoes himself, but Calcutta auctions were his calling card.

“Triple Crown is proud of holding professional, predictable, consistent family events at destination locations worldwide.” —Roland Rivera

207.

Patty says . . .

Let’s Pretend

Incredible

et’s pretend you’re a twelve-year-old boy. Baseball is your life. You can’t get enough. But, believe it or not, your Triple Crown tournament is NOT just about you and the ball. Your parents, who need to get away from the daily grind, your grandparents, who make a once-a-year trip to visit your family, and your eight-year-old little sister, who could care less about you or baseball, deserve to have a good time too. Okay. Ready? Your first tournament is in Aurora, and at summer’s end, your team will play in a place called “Steamboat.” You’ve heard about Steamboat’s magic. You can’t wait. It’s ALL you talk about. When you finally arrive and check into your mountainside condo, you hear the announcer call out various events. You listen closely. In between announcements you hear whinnies from Romick Arena, where rodeo mustangs are ready to perform. You take a breath, step onto your balcony, and look toward the Yampa River. A team that just finished playing is tubing. ey’re screaming and laughing—probably having as much fun as they did on the ballfield. Your turn is coming up. But for now, it’s time to head to the field. You and your teammates meet up in the dugout. High-fives all around. Coach says, “Okay, boys. Let’s GO.” Your team takes the field. e grass is greener than green. Crisp, pencil-straight chalk lines slash through raked brown dirt. White bases—first, second, third—sit tall. Crossing home plate is yet a dream, but you’re close—so close. You’re excited beyond excited. But before the game starts you look out behind right field and watch Olympic ski jumpers train on Howelsen Hill. e clock ticks 3 p.m. sharp. e umpire roars, “Play ball!” and you line up against your opponents. Players on both teams adhere to Triple Crown’s uniform rule: shirts tucked into pants, cap bills face forward. Your team is good, but so is your competition. Aer all, Triple Crown’s tournament director put together a well-thought-out and professionally orchestrated plan. Coach prepared you. He said, “Listen up, guys. We won’t get skunked, but don’t expect to whip everybody.” 209.

You look around at the officials. ey’re dressed in light blue polo shirts, tucked into navy blue pants. eir defender masks are pulled down. eir Rawlings Elite leather gloves are top drawer. ey look . . . well, they look official. ey know and enforce the rules—Coach never need question the score, but if he does he can expect a fair resolution. e game is more fun than you even imagined. Occasionally, you glance up in the stands to find your parents. ey think you hung the moon. ey also think Triple Crown’s technology is state-of-the-art. Aer all, where else can they get real-time updates on their iPhones? As the sky darkens, you glance out from the third-base dugout and see the park’s lights flicker to life. You watch the sun set over the fairgrounds and dip behind the mountain. It was a perfect day—a day that isn’t over yet. You ride the shuttle up the mountain to your rented condo. Woo-hoo! Your parents went to City Market and bought hot dogs, chips, Cokes, watermelon, and even Oreos. It’s a feast you’ll share with other families staying in your condo complex. While the dads grab a beer and fire up the grill, you and your teammates run to the pool. Hurry! You’re first “it” for Marco Polo. It’s so much fun to tag your best friend. Sure your little sister talks nonstop about Gondola Square and the Coca-Cola Adventure Zone. But that’s okay— before long it will be your turn to bungee-jump and ride the mechanical bull. Dad and Gramps look forward to their tee time, and Mom and Granny plan to stroll through the six-acre Yampa River Botanic Park. Everyone is excited about fireworks and the jam concert under the stars at Howelsen Hill Amphitheatre. Tomorrow evening the entire family will order Rodeo Burgers, monster mango fries, and chocolate malts at Johnny B. Good’s Diner. Aer you’re stuffed beyond stuffed, you’ll bowl at the Snow Bowl. Granny claims she’ll break 120. Time will tell. But, for sure, Dad promises to treat the entire family to a hot air balloon ride before you head home. But all that’s yet to come. Tonight you’re headed to the rodeo grounds where Triple Crown kicks off its World Series opening ceremonies. Each team will be recognized. A photographer will take your picture. You and your teammates will parade around the arena in front of your families. Even your little sister might be proud. At tournament end, teams will ride the gondola to the top of the mountain and watch champions receive gold medals. Sure you hope your team stands in the winner’s circle, but even if you get knocked out early, you and your family had the vacation of a lifetime—you created memories that will stay with you forever. So as you pack it all up, climb in your SUV, and drive down the dirt road out of Howelsen Park, your family agrees: at was incredible! It’s already on next year’s calendar.

Listen up, parents. Remember the “olden days” when you played sports? Now it’s your kids’ turn. Attend their Triple Crown events. The past slides into the present. Generational differences strike out.

You’ll talk. . . share. . . bond. And someday YOUR kids will say to THEIR kids, “I remember when your grandpa and grandma cheered me on. Now it’s your turn. After all, you’re just like me.” —John Casale

210.

“Technology must be fast, professional, and current.” —Dave King

Annette says . . .

The Phones

Home Phone

uring our first five years, we had three little kids all born close together, and Dave was on the road a lot. So I was the “phone answerer.” Triple Crown’s only phone was our home phone. Teams called mainly at night, right around the kids’ bath and bedtime. We didn’t have an answering machine, so I had to pick up or let the phone ring . . . and ring . . . and ring and just hope they’d call back.

e kids kept me so busy I couldn’t stay on the phone too long, but I took down names and numbers and relayed information to Dave. Four hundred teams per tournament equaled lots of phone calls, but we made it work. 214.

Desk Phones Kasey says . . .

’ll always remember scheduling Steamboat events. It was my first exposure point working the phones. We didn’t have cell phones, and computer systems were very rudimentary. Most people didn’t even own a computer—a mouse was still just a furry little creature and nobody’d even heard of Wi-Fi.

So we set black desk phones on desks in our big office. At least 25 employees, including all five Kings, sat next to a phone and called teams. We followed a script that helped us gather information and generate excitement. I was the wild child who did things differently than the rest of my family, but I felt good about working the phones. I was excited about the events. I knew their history and was familiar with different areas of the country. From the time I was just a little kid I knew and liked the players. All that contributed to me getting people involved. Involved people spend money. Money spent correlates directly to a larger bank account for Triple Crown. Some people I helped develop stayed with us more than 20 years. Today their kids participate. at makes me proud.

TCS Telephone Script 1. Hi, ____________, I’m Kasey King from Triple Crown Sports. 2. __________, are you still the manager of ______________? The reason I’m calling is to invite you to play in the Triple Crown Tournament series. 3. Tell me about your team. Do you have the same people as last year? How do you look? How’s it going this year? Have you played in any tourneys? How did you finish? What do you look for in a tournament? 4. Great! ____________, I’d like to extend a personal invitation to the tournament held in ____________ on ______________. 5. DESCRIBE BENEFITS: TCS concepts, punch card, and competition. 6. Does this sound like a tournament your team would like to enter? 7. Let’s set a time for me to get back to you to confirm your entry in this year’s Triple Crown. 8. __________, who else could you refer to me that should play in the Triple Crown? 9. EXCITEMENT: Thank you for taking time with me today! I’ll get back to you on ______________.

215.

Annette King Desktop Publishing

Risograph Annette says . . .

Desktop Publishing

er Triple Crown became a business, I handled desktop publishing. We had a machine about three foot tall and three foot wide called a Risograph—it was similar to a mimeograph. I typed the layout into a computer and the machine spit out sheets of plastic paper. I then gathered the sheets and hand-carried them to the printer. e process was slow and cumbersome, but it worked and was actually lots of fun—most days!

Cheap Labor Keri says . . .

y very first memory of Triple Crown is going to work with Mom in the Old Town Fort Collins building and “helping” with desktop publishing. My job was to trifold pieces of paper churned out by the printer. My fingers were always covered with black ink. I had to be fast because it printed thousands of documents in just a few minutes and filled the room with mounds of paper Mom managed. Mom needed cheap labor, and I was it— I didn’t get paid a nickel for that assignment.

Brand

Kelly says . . .

started kindergarten when I was five. I went to school for a half day, Mom picked me up, and we worked the other half of the day in the Old Town oﬃce. I was fascinated by the Risograph but too young to help run it. So my job was to stuﬀ mailers into envelopes.

216.

Mom’s interest in publishing rubbed oﬀ because when I was fourteen I started working in the publishing department. My first job was to create tournament programs. Over the years Suzanne Jamison taught me a lot, so when I was eighteen I dropped out of UNC and moved into our publishing department full-time. I knew that if Triple Crown was to become a professional company we had to step up publishing, so I took classes and learned even more. My boss (Mom) was more than happy to let me take the creativity reins and run with them. at improved our brand.

Computer System Kelly says . . .

Just Gone

efore computers everything was handwritten. Mom was our main data-input person. She recorded everything by hand, with a pencil, on big sheets of paper. Up until 1987, Triple Crown didn’t have paid staﬀ so, along with managing three little kids, Mom registered up to 400 teams per season and gave their information to Dad so he could complete the brackets. Over time we developed a massive bracket library that we printed, copied, and got ready for call-in days. All day ursday and a half day Friday dozens of people sat in rows of desks and answered phones. ey were mostly family members and friends who wanted to make a little money—and I mean a little. Even as a young child, I was right in there with them: Hello. Triple Crown. Kelly King speaking. Please tell me your division . . . Men’s D ? . . . ank you . . . . Please tell me your team’s name . . . Bulldogs? . . . ank you. en I’d flip through my stack of brackets, and give them their game time and other particulars. Most were happy receiving information over the phone, but there were always those who insisted on a fax. Many weekends we held multiple tournaments in multiple locations, and that was really complicated. God forbid rain caused a schedule change. In the beginning everybody answered their own line, so we needed tons of individual lines. en we moved to a receptionist who filtered calls. Eventually, we moved to an automated system, and I was tasked with figuring it out. I could never get the phone company to show up, so one Friday evening I decided to do it myself. I poked around the server, and somehow by Monday morning, I had 60 lines up and running. It was wild. But once we could just push a button and put callers on hold or even transfer calls, we thought we were big-time, high-tech sophisticates. When we finally got computers our first program was Quattro Pro. We typed teams into their brackets, and that led to mistakes. If a team showed up at 3 p.m. instead of 1 p.m., and it was your mistake, you were in BIG trouble. en, during the mid-’90s, when the Internet became available to the general public, Quattro Pro went away, and we had to transfer all our data to Excel spreadsheets and build our website. Technology is great, but it’s crazy to think back to all the work we did that’s obsolete—just gone. Nobody will ever use it again.

217.

First TCS website Click-and-Go

Website Dave says . . .

CLICK-and-GO

n 1988, I asked my buddy, who worked at Managed Business Solutions in Fort Collins, if he could design an algorithm to manage bracketing. He said he could, but when he told me the price, I said, “anks, but no thanks.” Ten years later we moved into our building on Automation Way, and employees convinced me to build a website. We created a site with a static front page that reloaded itself over and over again. Basically, we threw up a PDF and were done. Annette sat in the back corner of what we called our “publishing room” and entered as many as 100 change orders a day. I went back to my friend and said, “Will you please take a look at this mess?” He did. is time I could afford what he proposed, so we sat down and architected a site that allowed information for individual events to be posted—at the time, we ran 600 events a year, with up to 35 on any given weekend. at was better than what we had, but the site could only deal with basic information. So he gave me the names of a couple of people who might help me—one was Gear Fisher. I told Gear I didn’t want a site searched-based on unknowledgeable customers. I wanted one searched-based on people who knew what they were doing. With that, Gear designed a basic three-level, click-and-go site—parents, coaches, teams, and spectators CLICK on the sport and location; GO to the information. en we added layers—taking money through the site was a huge endeavor. Next up, Gear figured out how to load hand-drawn PDF brackets. But during tournaments somebody had to stick around the tournament desk and post, so we didn’t have live-time updates. e site worked functionally, but eventually we got tired of its look and trashed it. Today our site still has lots of old stuff that’s no longer relevant. But as we move it forward we’ll continue to commit time and dollars to clean it up and keep up with changes, while ensuring it’s user friendly. With 17,000 customers per year, a database of 40,000 teams and 400,000 parents, and proprietary soware that continues to evolve, we need a competent Web staff or we fall apart. Our guys are the best.

Bill says . . .

24/7

uring the early years, I ran tournaments with up to 600 teams, on facilities that were ten to twenty miles apart, all the while managing staﬀ, teams, and umpires. It was an intense, constant go, go, go. At times I didn’t sleep for forty-eight hours straight.

But technology changed all that. Back in the day, all we had was a fax and telephone. So when there was a rain delay, we called around until we found somebody on the team. at took hours, even days. Today we simply type changes into the computer. Wham! Sixty seconds later the change is made. Our website is up 24/7 so teams can watch schedules wherever and whenever. en our games are broadcast live. Double Wham!

John says . . .

Communication

he Web is huge. It’s how people get information. We’ve always prided ourselves on communication—that’s just one reason people enjoy our events. So it was only natural to be at the forefront of technology and have our Web platform evolve over the past decade. As the Web became more complicated, so did our site. To keep up aesthetically, we added sharper graphics, dropdowns, pop ups, and videos. We formatted desktops, smart phones, and iPads. Our bracketing and scheduling soware are the best bar none. During events, customers receive text messages that communicate real-time rain delays, scores, and updates from the dugouts and bleachers.

The Web is huge. It’s how people get information.

We’ve always prided ourselves on communication— that’s just one reason people enjoy our events.

220.

WatchESPN brings you 24/7 live programming from your favorite ESPN networks on your computer, smart phone, Tablet, Xbox 360, Xbox One, Apple TV, Google Chromecast, Amazon Fire TV and Roku.

WNIT Radio, 1997

Dave says . . .

Big Deal

ESPN & Company

uring the early ’90s, Anheuser-Bush was ESPN’s biggest advertiser and one of our national sponsors. So in 1993, it made sense for Anheuser-Bush to deliver us to ESPN, and they televised our slow-pitch championship tournament in Steamboat. It was a very big deal that made us think we were smarter than we really were. I mean, it was the perfect collision—Anheuser-Bush promoted us like mad; ESPN announced on national television that we’d made it big-time. e truth was we’d grown too large, too fast, too far. When I look back, even though most of what happened in 1993 was on us, ESPN was the setup for our fall. In 1994, ESPN dialed back and didn’t broadcast our games again until 2017 when we ran the Auburn-Oklahoma game in Puerto Vallarta, Mexico. In 2004, we started producing our own broadcasts. In 2010, we created TCTV and joined forces with CBS Sports Network to produce nationally-televised broadcasts and live webcasts. In 2017, we launched a partnership with ESPN3 and our own streaming platform. Now, we’re a legitimate big deal!

222.

In 1992, ESPN announced on national television that we'd made it big-time.

Via Facebook

Patty says . . .

Facebook & Social Media

Get With the Times

acebook became popular in 2005. I thought: Get with the times. Jump on it. So I took my brilliant idea to Dave. We butted heads.

He said, “Patty. As soon as you tell me how to monetize it, I’m happy to invest dollars in Facebook.” I said, “Dave. I can’t give you an exact figure. I’m not smart enough, nor is that my niche. I just have a sense we need to be part of it. I mean, look at what’s happening. Everybody posts on Facebook. Everybody gets noticed. Everybody generates sales.” So he let me grab a couple young people and create a Triple Crown Facebook page. At first, I was probably the only person who posted pictures, but it evolved into an entire Triple Crown division that has a well-thought-out and methodical social media plan. I still administer the site, but I don’t stomp on their eﬀorts. Aer all, they were nice enough to give me an adjunct staﬀ and alumni page. So I throw a lot of pictures on that. I pray that Facebook still exists a hundred years from now because there’s nothing like a picture to archive information.

224.

Current Dave says . .

ur core product is the ballfield. For hundreds of years, players battled it out in the dirt. But technology is a diﬀerent story—it’s an information delivery pipeline.

A necessary condition of that pipeline is to oﬀer a timely, systematic solution to information exchange. Our customers need to know—deserve to know—everything from team classifications, to money exchange, to field locations, to tournament progression. Eventually, the pipeline becomes a database marketing tool. So in today’s world, our technology needs to be as robust as our core product—it simply can’t fall behind. For instance, Facebook . . . When Patty pointed out everybody was moving to Facebook, I had two questions: What’s the commercial application? How will our brands present themselves? e problem with websites or social media platforms is they must be watched. ey’re like refrigerators: Holy Cow! Who forgot to dump the spoiled milk.

I recognized Facebook, and then Twitter and other platforms, were systematic solutions to marketing. ere were, though, two problems: We didn’t have a professional digital media team. We didn’t need a separate page for all events. But true to our values statement—we’re “problem solvers, not problem describers”—we researched, picked a choice, and acted. We invested a substantial amount of money into an outside provider. But he wasn’t the answer. So we made a second choice. Today we have a full, in-house studio that manages photos, video clips, and our Twitter feed. Fast. Professional. Current. If it’s not current, it’s not good—take my LinkedIn page: It’s not very current, so it’s not very good!

225.

“Our mission statement took us from a really nice small business to a really nice business that exploded.” —Kirk Gentry

Values Outweigh Performance Strong Rules

She stepped back, but before she could even take a breath, Dave said, “I can’t take it any longer. Go to the warehouse. Get a box. Go to your desk. Box up your shit. You’re done.”

ave doesn’t believe in an employee handbook. Instead, we built the company around our mission, purpose, values, and change statements. Our values page ends with strong rules about values and beliefs: “Key managers live them. Hire those who show them. Promote those who show them. Send home those who can’t get them.”

She said, “What? REALLY?”

Patty says . . .

We interview, hire, train, inform, plan, strategize, and fire based on our values. Even if a court asks us to show our employee handbook, we show our value’s statement. Literally, EV. REE. THING. is measured against it. And EV. REE. BODY. gets it.

Assumed

n 2006, we had an employee who nailed each objective in her job description. But her workplace behavior didn’t cut it.

e problem was we just assumed she knew what was expected. en there was the problem of who reported to whom. We didn’t develop our leaders or managers, so their roles were more figurehead than formal and accountability was loose. One aernoon, Dave happened to look out the window just as the employee rolled in from lunch way beyond the normal lunch hour. He jumped up, ran to the parking lot, and exploded. “Everybody else is back at work. I’m sick and tired of you taking advantage of us. What makes you so damn special?”

Dave’s veins popped out. He yelled, “Yeah! REALLY!” He turned on his heel, stomped into the building, and said, “Patty. I just fired so-and-so. Stand next to her desk. Make sure she gets all her stuﬀ. See her to the door.” It was hard, but I did what Dave asked and thought that was that. It wasn’t. For months aer she was called out. Staﬀ, managers, and leadership used her as an example. It went on and on and wasn’t right. I started to recognize the huge gap between people who knew and understood the company’s culture and those who needed help. ey were good people. ey’d tow the line if they knew our expectations. But we didn’t spell them out. One morning, once again, a manager said, “Gee, I’d NEVER do what so-and-so did. No wonder she got fired.” Enough was enough. I crashed my hand on the table. I stood up. I said, “STOP! Everybody at this table gets it. But it’s unfair to let somebody go if we don’t explain what we expect. She thought she was doing her job. But we’re referencing values. Dave, what are our values? What do you mean? I know you’ve got them somewhere. You run the company based on values. But you haven’t formally shared them with us, so we can’t help you manage them. People don’t get values by osmosis. We’ve been lucky so far because most people we’ve hired are friends and family. But we’re starting to grow. We’re starting to hire more outliers. We can’t just assume they know our values. We can’t just up and fire them without explaining how we treat each other.”

229.

Examine Yourself

Speech over, I sat down. Nobody said a word. e meeting ended. We returned to our desks. Dave went to his oﬃce. He shut the door. I thought: Well, it’s been a great ride.

Dave says . . .

A couple hours later, Dave called me into his oﬃce. He said, “Patty. Is this what you mean?” and showed me a values diagram he’d drawn in his spiral notebook over the last fieen years. Dave went on to explain that he started forming core values way back in the ’80s when he departed First Centennial Insurance.

’ve taught classes about values at various universities, to CEO groups and college students, and once at Harvard. I start by relating what I learned from personal experience: Don’t copy anyone else’s values. Don’t write what sounds “neat.” Take three or four years and examine yourself.

He then transferred his ideas out of his notebook to big white sheets of flipchart paper, so we had them in a form we could use and share with clarity. at’s when we really started to grow.

Start by asking a question: What do I refuse to tolerate? en turn your answer into a positive, snapshot concept statement. For instance, if you refuse to tolerate people who are late to work and waste time your positive statement might be about work ethic. Ours is this: Work Ethic: Be early, leave on time; work hard and eﬃciently.

We went over them item by item. I said, “at’s exactly what I mean. Values are every bit as important as meeting budgets and executing events Triple Crown style. Let’s use them to our advantage. Let’s make them part of our package.” Dave said, “We can do that,” and from that day forward, that’s exactly what we’ve done.

Culture

company can look up “values” in Wikipedia and copy and paste the definition into a document. But that’s an exercise in futility. Values come from the mind, heart, and very soul of a company’s founder. Values are NOT fake. ey ARE deep feelings. We walk our talk. Values are part of our culture—the most pivotal component of the entire company. We live our values at work, but there’s more: Triple Crown’s values stand up in life outside our walls.

230.

e second thing I ask my students to do is take their values statements home and have others review them to make sure they’re not misinterpreted. For instance, our “Work Ethic” statement does NOT mean we want people to stay late, work long hours like in a law firm, get noticed, and disregard their families.

“Values are every bit as

important as meetings and budgets and executing

events Triple Crown style.

Let’s use them to our advantage. Let’s make them

part of our package.”

Dave started forming Triple Crown's values in his notebook way back in the '80s when he departed First Centennial Insurance Company.

Stories Patty says . . .

Twenty-five Times a Day

ur mission, purpose, and values work together. Whether in casual conversations or talking with potential employees we refer to them at least twenty-five times a day. Even before we printed them we brought them to life through stories told and retold.

Dave says . . .

Meaning

ythology needs to be passed down through stories. Storytelling keeps us moving forward and is instrumental to who we were and what we are. For instance, our “Work Ethic” and “Family First” value statements take on meaning when one employee says to another, “Did you know Dave got a guy for coming back to the building at night and leaving his family alone? Dave values balancing family with work, so this guy almost lost his job.”

Mission: Exceed Market’s Expectations

Keri says . . . ad and Mom started out breathing, eating, drinking, and sleeping slow-pitch. ey became successful by meeting and exceeding the market’s expectations. We incorporated that into our mission statement—a statement that is, in part, their legacy. It’s a great legacy. When we stray from our mission, we find ourselves in deep trouble.

Purpose: Embed Lasting Lifetime Memories

Patty says . . he day before our annual Christmas party everything is hush-hush. Dave and “Santa’s helper” jump in his truck and shop all aernoon. Dave buys twelve of this and twelve of that, and I’m not talking little things. I’m talking big things—iPads, crystal watches, sterling silver Christmas ornaments. He also chooses a special present for each of our kids. During the aernoon, we move everything around in the workout room and set up tables. Alberta, Kelly, Annette, Audrey, Erica, and Beau know where the decorations are stashed, so they have decorating down to a science. When they’re finished, tables, decorations, and the Christmas tree are magical. First up that evening is dinner. e meal is typically catered by a local barbecue restaurant, and coolers filled with wine, beer, so drinks, and water line the walls. Aer dinner, we draw kids’ names out of a hat, they go up front, and Dave personally gives them their gis. en they disappear upstairs. We can hear the pitter patter of their little feet, but that’s it for kids. Dave kicks oﬀ the rest of the evening with his “state of the company” address. He talks about both the cool and hard things that happened during the past year, and for many of us “old-timers” it’s very emotional. Aer we sniﬄe and dry our eyes, it’s time to “Let the games begin!” Dave invents the games, so we don’t know what to expect until he grabs the mic, explains the rules, and announces teams. We play for fun money—colorful fake money printed with pictures of our longest-term employees. Teammates pool money, and Dave starts the bidding: “One thousand? . . . One thousand? . . . One thousand over there . . . Do I hear two thousand? . . . Two thousand?” If your team wins, you hand over your fake money and collect your gi. And this is SO Dave—he always warns us, “Don’t sit on your money waiting for the REALLY big item. Get in the game, NOW!”

TCS Christmas parties embed lasting lifetime memories.

Change Statement: To Innovate and Explore

Kasey says . . . rom the time we were just kids, Dad gave us liberty to come up with contest ideas—plot twists if you will. We were allowed to help determine how players gained points or come up with theories that helped teams get excited about the “small things,” such as contests for turning double plays and making diving catches. All this resulted in team and individual player awards. As scorekeepers, we were allowed to determine what was legitimate and what was faked. Players might come up aer the fact and say, “I had two diving catches.” I might say, “No. You stumbled three steps, took a knee, fell down, and caught the ball. I’m not giving you credit for that one.” So our characters came across in the sense that we could smooth the road when people didn’t put in full eﬀort.

Value: Positive Change

Patty says . . . ave follows his own rules and lives our values—they are fundamental to his very core. He also openly admits when he’s challenged. e one that drives him nuts is “positive change.” ere are days he’d figuratively rather punch somebody in the nose than sit down with them and once again describe what he’s looking for.

But he’s more of a model for positive change than he gives himself credit for. During our transition to Keri becoming CEO, we talked about HR. At the time, as HR director, I reported to Dave. HR involves constant people stuﬀ. It never takes a break. Although Dave is one of the best people people ever, this positive change thing was exhausting him, and he wasn’t happy about the fact that he frequently felt angry and negative. So he said, “I’m not modeling positive change. You guys take over. I trust you.” With that HR went under Keri.

Value: Security and Safety

Dave says . . . ad will laugh when I say that he and Mom are “democratic socialists.” ey honestly don’t understand business or capitalism. But they DO understand diversity. ey believe in equality. ey are proponents of men, women, Black people, Hispanic people, White people—all people. Drill down: My parents are from Colorado—a state that, by nature, is NOT diverse. So their beliefs say volumes about them. And they passed that on to me. From the time I was a little kid, Dad said, “David, if you want to grow up to be a good man, accept people for who they are, not who you think they should be.” 237.

Value: People Deserve Chances

Kasey says . . . started working for Dad for pay when I was about eighteen. We always butted heads, so I’d work a while, he’d get super pissed oﬀ, fire my ass, and two weeks later hire me back. at rhythm continued for about five years. True to Triple Crown’s values he always gave me one more chance.

Value: Efficiency

Kelly says . . . ad is ultra-compassionate—a big soy—one of the most sensitive people I know. But he puts up a big front, so people oen fail to recognize him for who he really is. Dad is calculated—clear on what he wants and what he expects. His work ethic is beyond work ethic. He doesn’t micromanage. Instead, he explains responsibilities. “Get it done. If you have questions, ask me. But I’m not here to shoot the shit. I’m busy. Don’t mess with my time. First tell me your solution. en I’ll tell you what I think.” It’s a sink or swim approach. And that’s diﬃcult for lots of people. e word many people use for Dad is “intimidating.” Still, he’s well respected. He understands people and what motivates them. He believes everybody is worth his time if they put in their time first. Dad’s famous saying is, “If your arrow is pointed up, there is nothing I won’t do to help you succeed.” He means this: If you’re trying to better yourself, even if you don’t fit in at Triple Crown, I will help you find a spot where you will succeed. If you work at Triple Crown, you might move around in your job or you might move to another company. But unless you truly do not want to better yourself, it’s tough to get fired—it really is!

Value: Success of the Whole

Patty says . . . o much of who, what, and where we are at Triple Crown is Annette. She’s not the face—that’s just not her. Yet, she is a very, very strong, passionate, smart, supportive woman who works quietly behind everything. Annette personifies our “Success of the Whole” value. Even though she’s an owner, she never puts herself out there as a superstar. Annette never says, “Geeze! I hope everybody is talking about me.” But this is a lady who sat outside and kept score in the baking-hot sun, freezing-cold wind, and driving rain. For eighteen hours a day, little Kelly played under her mother’s chair, next to her feet, and Annette never moved from her table. Annette attended every event, and when she wasn’t working, she was on the field playing ball. Although Dave is the front—the mastermind who puts it all in play—he listens to his wife’s wise counsel. ey sit around their dinner table and talk, and so much of what we do is just as much Annette’s idea as it is Dave’s. He doesn’t make a move until they collaborate and Annette buys in. She is a hugely important piece—always has been and always will be. Dave and Annette King are true partners in every aspect of life. 238.

Value: Daily Journey

Kelly says . . . odney Crawford was one of my dad’s good friends from Meeker. Rod worked for Triple Crown for years. en he contracted a fast-acting bone cancer. Dad did everything he could to help Rodney enjoy every day.

He found a way to pay Rodney when he could no longer work regularly. He located trial medications and paid for Rodney’s treatments. He bought Rodney a house in Meeker so he could die there. During Rodney’s last year, Dad walked down Rodney’s bucket list and checked oﬀ everything, including the World Series. All because of Dad, Rodney had a good last year on earth. Aer Rod passed Dad named one of Triple Crown’s conference rooms aer him. It was Dad’s way to keep his dear friend’s legacy alive.

Rodney Crawford His legacy lives on.

239.

Value: Develop Everyone

Kelly says . . . ad knows people will succeed if they have some support, so he always goes out of his way to help with big and small things. And they have fun along the way. Almost 100 percent of the girls who play on his team go to college, either on academic or athletic scholarships, and that’s because of Dad. Dad has many connections with many schools where his word means a lot. If he says, “I need you to take a shot at this kid,” people listen, and he always finds a spot. For instance, I have a friend who was hanging out with the wrong people. She opted out of college, and her life was going nowhere fast. Dad called her up and told her he’d found a soball scholarship, and she had one day to decide. Within the hour, she called him back and said, “I’m in.” is literally changed the trajectory of her life. Did Dad have to do this? No. She didn’t even play ball on my team.

Value: Develop Everyone

Kelly says . . . ad will do anything for his three kids and ten grandkids. He just wants us to do well—mistakes, non-mistakes, whatever it takes to get there. Sometimes he blames himself for things he shouldn’t, but that’s just a parent thing.

Recently, my ten-year-old step-daughter, Trinity, played in her first tournament. I said, “Dad, our team got massacred. We can’t play at the level of other teams.” Dad came back with, “at’s great!” The majority of Triple Crown teams were far from winners when they started, but Dad developed them. So he was delighted because he knew Trinity and her teammates need to work hard before they can stand in the winner’s circle.

Value: Family First

Kelly says . . . om is a very quiet person. It’s her natural way. She made lots of personal moves in the company, but nobody knows about them, and she doesn’t care.

She’s always been the silent support for Dad, and he respects what she has to say. He tends to get emotional and is driven by the people who surround the issue. en Mom steps in with: Let’s look at the problem itself. She has “silently” moved many things in many directions at Triple Crown just by talking with Dad. Our value of “Family First” is a big one. Mom shaped it—she insisted healthy families need to be together. In the past, staﬀ went on the road for a month or more at a time. But due to Mom’s insistence, they’re required to return home aer seven days and stay home two days before going out again. She’s a big believer in parents attending kids’ school plays, going to their Halloween parties in the middle of the aernoon, and just being present in their lives. So Dad made that a priority and added “Family First” to our value statement. I honestly believe it’s saved a few relationships. 240.

î ˘ank you, Coach Dave.

Value: Family First

Keri says . . . hen I was growing up Dad put in 80-hour-plus workweeks. He was the merchandise guy, umpire scheduler, weather man, event manager, and nighttime auctioneer. He opened the gate early in the morning and closed it late at night. He counted the money and planned for next season. When he wasn’t running events, he spent weeks away from home flying around the country courting national sponsors and moving the brand forward at trade shows. Like many teenagers I was immature. So I looked down on Triple Crown. In my mind, it was a place that stole Dad and le Mom behind to raise their kids. I didn’t respect the business nor did I understand why Dad used it to “punish” himself. I became so scornful I even refused to wear Triple Crown apparel. People who worked for Dad felt diﬀerently. ey respected him for all he did. ey were loyal beyond loyal. eir admiration was oﬀ the charts, so they modeled their boss and spent countless hours away from their families— even when they didn’t get paid.

Dave King welcomes the family of Ignacio (Nacho) Gonzalez, who provides endless energy, wisdom, and support for the Puerto Vallarta College Challenge. In 2002, Dad turned on the proverbial dime, took a stand, changed his behavior, and wrote Triple Crown’s “Family First” value statement. In looking back, Dad would tell you that so much time away from home led to unstable family relationships. It even led to good people leaving the company. Moving to a “Family First” culture ensures that employees’ families are welcome at Triple Crown, and the business as a business comes in second place. I guarantee you this value will remain a vital element under my watch. 243.

Value: Family First

Annette says . . . hen I was a child and someone asked me what I wanted to be when I grew up, I always said, “School teacher.” But by the time I got my degree in education I was on my second child, so I decided it was more important to stay home and raise the kids. I substituted a few times, but finding a babysitter was more work than it was worth. My degree wasn’t a waste. I just didn’t want to pursue it. I was put on this earth to be a mother and grandmother. So my family always comes first.

But over the years, even though Dave has the brains and is the driving force for Triple Crown, I’m a good support—even a driving force needs support. It’s been said that Dave doesn’t make a decision without talking it over with me. at’s probably true. Like any good spouse, I help with big and little decisions. I mean, when you’re an owner you need somebody other than employees to talk with about the hard stuﬀ. And that somebody is me.

Value: Work Ethic

Annette and Dave King, partners for life

Annette says . . . ave is all about work ethic and believes in rewarding employees for their hard work. Shortly aer we moved into our building on Automation Way, he set financial goals, and announced if we reached them he’d take the entire company to Mexico. We did, so he did. Dave paid for all the hotel rooms, bought dinner, and we played soball. People still talk about how much fun we had together.

244.

Reason No. 172 why TCS is such a great place to work. . . Colorado Rockies Season Tickets. Most of the staff is heading down to Coors Field today for Opening Day! #GoRox

Value: Vacation/Sick Time

Annette says . . . e are good about making sure employees take time oﬀ for anything they need. ere are so many stories— so much we do to help.

During the last weeks of Patty’s mom’s life she took time oﬀ to help her pass comfortably. Another employee, Robert Rios, contracted a mysterious illness—he deteriorated before our eyes and could hardly get out of his wheelchair. Dave paid his salary, and even paid for him to go to Mayo Clinic. en there’s Beau: One aernoon Dave walked into the bathroom and found Beau drunk. Dave said, “Beau, you’ve got thirty seconds to make a decision. You’re either going to rehab or you’re fired.” Beau chose a thirty-day rehab program, and Dave paid for everything. at was nine years ago. Beau is one of our longtime loyal employees. He, like so many of our employees, is a good person, with strong values. And that makes us proud—very proud.

TCS Family, Sally Arnold, Patty Harsh, and Ella Klaviter-Judge

Value: Respect of All

Alberta says . . . ’m eighty-one years old. Most Triple Crown employees are at least thirty years younger. ey wonder why this old lady still comes in one day a week. I’ll tell you: I like the people. I like my job. I like the atmosphere. I like the company. I like Dave. We lost track of how many times I “retired,” but it’s probably three or four. e first time Dave gave me a retirement party. I didn’t want one, but he surprised me. Everybody dropped by Roland’s house, and we had snacks, and just everything. at was so neat. Back when I first retired, I looked for another job, but could never find one I really liked, so I thought: I’ll just stay at Triple Crown. Why? Dave is kind. He makes everybody feel welcome. He is very business minded. He treats employees with respect and makes sure their families are okay. at’s why this old lady can hardly wait for ursday morning to roll around. And lucky me—Dave tells me he’ll always figure out a place for me, so I can work as long as I want to. And he never changes my pay. at says a lot about Dave and how much he respects everybody. 246.

Value: Integrity

Dave says . . . erbal integrity is harder than written integrity. Is what comes out of your mouth a verbal contract, or is it you just talking? In our world, verbal communication with teams, facilities, umpires, and sponsors is critical.

man, and told him what happened. en I said, “is guy put me out on a limb, so if you don’t take action by the end of the day we have a fundamental problem. My guess is if he did it to me he did it to others.”

Will you return that phone call? Will you send that Tshirt? Will you schedule that eight o’clock game? You said you would. Will you? Your word isn’t a contract, but it is. If you don’t stay true to your word, you’re probably not a liar, but you don’t get what Triple Crown means by integrity.

e next morning the bank president resigned. I thought: All’s well that ends well. But mid-aernoon the FBI showed up in my oﬃce asking if I was complicit. ey wanted to know if I’d made any promises—if I’d agreed to lend him back the money so he’d agree to lend it to me in the first place.

I have a pivotal story about integrity—trust—that makes my point:

Of course, I had documentation proving I was clean. Eventually, the FBI indicted him and he went before the grand jury. Come to find out he was found guilty on seven counts of leveraging lines of credit for his personal use. He never served hard time but was on probation for quite a while.

It took us until 1992 to become bankable. Prior to that we had no credit cards, no lines of credit, no bank relationships. Nothing. en in 1992, a bank president who knew soball came to Fort Collins. rough our connection, the bank gave us a $150,000 line of credit. Days later, Annette and I took a three-week trip to Japan to look at Sapporo as a potential site to repeat what we’d done in Steamboat. When we got home, I got a call from the bank president asking me to meet him at the Silver Grill for breakfast—keep in mind the loan was now oﬃcially four weeks old. I thought: Lordy! What did I do wrong?

e takeaway is life oﬀers you many choices. Most things look gray, but they’re not. My dad says, “Just do the right thing, and you will know what that is.” When my team says, “Coach, give us a list of things we can’t do,” I say, “ I’m not giving you any list. You know what they are. If you think something is wrong, don’t do it. If you do, you won’t play for me.” It’s just that simple.

I arrived, and for about twenty minutes we had a friendly conversation about our trip. en he said, “Dave, I need to ask a favor. I thought you’d be away another week, so I borrowed $150,000 out of your line of credit to buy stock options. But don’t worry. I’ll put it back by Friday. Will you sign an agreement saying it’s okay?” I said, “Holy cow! I’m just trying to get by—just trying to make my business work. Why are you doing this to me?” I just shook my head. Here was a guy I looked up to forcing me to look down at him. I thought about it all night. e next morning I called the bank’s holding company, asked to speak to the chair

If you don’t stay true to

your word, you’re probably not a liar, but you don’t get what Triple Crown means by integrity.

247.

Value: Burning Learning

Dave says . . . had a need for burning learning long before it was one of Triple Crown’s values. When I was eighteen, I traveled around India by myself but missed Nepal. So in 2014, I decided to take Annette and the kids to Kathmandu— Nepal’s capital city—to retrace my trip to India.

Dave King, India, 1974 I hired a bunch of rickshaws to take us on a tour back in time. It seemed like a great idea until we saw our drivers. ey were straight out of a hash house—bloodshot eyes, couldn’t walk a straight line, sleepy, totally stoned. We thought: What the hell? But they were our only option, so we hopped in, and they took oﬀ through what was once the old bazaar. Annette and I couldn’t quite fit our butts in the seat, so we held on for dear life. When we reached the end of the road, the first driver banked the turn and walked his rig over the hump. en it was our turn—our driver gunned it and launched me into the street. Our camera flew out of my hand and bounced into the crowd. I landed on my head and ended up with a concussion, whiplash, and bruised arms, ribs, and hips. I was totally stunned—could barely talk. But I gathered my wits and hollered, “Get the camera! Get the camera!” 248.

Don’t Wait Advice

Dave Says . . .

alues build credibility—plain and simple. During a business’s early years your banker, lawyer, accountant, advisory team, and board help you solidify a credible package. But the only way to exist for an extended period of time is to build a solid, definable value statement. It’s probably the hardest thing you will ever do, but it is the single most important thing you will ever do. Even though we didn’t formalize our values until around 2000, I built them in my mind way back in 1980 when I worked for First Centennial. en hire, promote, and fire based on lived values. at’s the hardest one, because many employees produce workrelated results but don’t manifest your values, and that’s a train wreck. Values then become your culture. A cult is values you can’t take home and share. ey stand up only in your immediate work environment. ey are good only for the people who lead that environment. ey disregard your family. But a culture is values you live by at work, take home to your family, and use to become a better person both in and outside work. So back to credibility: Credibility is the manifestation of a solid culture defined by values. We waited 20 years to formalize our culture. But you can build it during your company’s early lifespan. My advice is this: Don’t wait.

Dave says . . .

True Giver

Time

he giving back pyramid usually gets messed up between money and time. Money is a byproduct of a good business. Sure it’s important to do nice things with your money. It’s good to feel good. It’s good to fill a philanthropic need.

But if you’re a true giver, you give because you want to give. My staﬀ gets confused and wonders why I don’t believe in big, public check signing ceremonies—why I don’t tell the world what we do. Whoever we give to knows it. We help them. We know it. at’s enough for me. I have no expectations of return. It goes along with our values—I don’t want to be looked at as a superstar, with a superstar attitude. The biggest way to give back is with your time. Time is the gi that really matters. I encourage our employees to infiltrate organizations in our community. But I have to catch myself because, as a leader, it can be frustrating to see people leave at 2:30 in the aernoon to coach high school volleyball. at’s when I step back and look at our value statement. Probably half of our eight all-time top performers are no longer here because of values.

“Triple Crown is not built on a grand plan. It’s built on the determination of a team who make the plan great.” —Dave King

249.

Employee Stock Ownership Plan & 401(k) Professional Organization Patty says . . .

n 1995, Dave introduced an Employee Stock Ownership Plan (ESOP) and 401(k). ey both speak to Triple Crown’s values and culture. Instead of being “just another grassroots events’ company” Dave wants us to be a professional organization—an organization that oﬀers careers versus side jobs.

Ours is an industry where retirement plans don’t exist unless employees create them on their own. Our plans make us unique and take us to a diﬀerent level of professionalism. ey’re Dave’s way of assisting employees and their families to be comfortable during retirement. ey’re his way of bringing us into the fold and paying us at a level that’s fair for recreation positions in Northern Colorado. Elliott Finkelstein, our executive director of fastpitch, comes from the world of finance and has a deep understanding of investments. He and Dave built a retirement plan that Dave patented. Each year they sit down and teach a retirement class. Employees aren’t required to participate, but if they do they can have a very comfortable retirement. Frankly, this is how Dave planned for his personal retirement. Our plans are but one example of Dave’s visionary abilities. Compared to other businesses the same size as Triple Crown our 401(k) match is very competitive. We invest lots of time educating younger employees about participating—if they elect to get involved they’ll be at a very lucrative level before they know it.

Instead of being “just another grassroots events’ company” Dave wants us to be a professional organization—

an organization that offers careers versus side jobs. 250.

Harvard Business School’s Owner/President Management Program OPM Roland says . . .

Stopped Hemorrhaging

n 1999, Dave became a founding member of Northern Colorado TEC—a CEO membership group in Fort Collins. Execs met once a month and helped each other. at’s where he first heard about Harvard’s OPM program. I’m a Texas guy. So I think University of Texas is darn good. But it ain’t Harvard!

Dave’s involvement in the OPM program was a watershed moment that changed our company for the better. We stopped hemorrhaging and started making money. It’s interesting how Dave had to spend money to make money. But that’s Dave—he invests in his people.

Real Corporate Business John says . . .

s a result of the OPM program, Dave took us down the path of a real corporate, financially driven business. We were no longer just a bunch of good ole cowboys running soball tournaments.

î ˘e best practice for family business succession planning is single-family-line passage.

Dave says . . .

Brand-new Level

very company and every life has a storyboard. Triple Crown’s storyboard started in 1982 with a dream. It survived hard times and celebrated good times. irtysix years later it’s ready to expand to a big company. Dave King’s storyboard is based on deviation from the norm: I was the top student in my high school class, but instead of going directly to college I hitchhiked around the world. at was a watershed moment for me. It changed me. It aﬀects every part of my life. Over 40 years later, I still display pictures of that trip on my storyboard. Initially, I thought my way was to fight education. en I recognized I needed to change and become a better CEO. But I didn’t know what I needed. I tried reading business books, taking classes, and even hiring facilitators. ey were good, but they didn’t change me. ey just inched me along. en I asked: Can I find a watershed moment that will REALLY allow water to run down the other side of the hill? I looked around and found Harvard’s OPM program. at was my watershed moment. And I embraced it. I had no idea what it would be like to live in dorms for three-week periods extending over three years, or study side by side with people from around the world, or learn how to apply best practices for running successful companies. But I did it. When I finished the program, there were many things about Triple Crown I was really proud of. ere were also simple things I’d completely missed. But now I had the tools to move it forward. And that was yet another watershed moment.

Certainly it was a financial investment. As I recall tuition was about $32,000 a year. But that’s okay. It speaks to action by example—and that’s the best mentorship ever. If you want to mentor values, be an example. People will follow your example a lot quicker than they’ll follow your words. So committing time and resources to Harvard meant that education was really important to me and really important to the company. Aer all, it was worth leaving my tasks as CEO to become a better CEO. Back in 1993, when we had our near-death experience, we stopped the leak. But it was more about will and determination than knowledge. Truthfully, it was pure survival at the highest level. I’d led my employees into the jungle and a bunch of them got shot. I didn’t really know what to do to move it forward, and everybody told me we were going down. Harvard changed all that—it changed Triple Crown’s storyboard and it changed Dave King’s storyboard. We still have will and determination. But best practices take them to a brand-new level. We now have tools that allow us to fix what’s wrong and build for the future simultaneously.

I looked around and found Harvard’s OPM program.

That was my watershed moment. And I embraced it.

255.

Keri says . . .

Burning Learning

s Dad and I planned for me to become Triple Crown’s next CEO, we recognized I needed more acumen in an entire suite of topics. So in 2014, I enrolled in Harvard’s OPM program. Students are all owners, presidents, or managers of companies with revenue greater than $10 million. e program is based on Harvard Business School’s hallmark case studies. e model leads us to discover and experience new ways of thinking. OPM is a three-year course, but we’re only on campus three weeks at a time. e other 49 weeks we work inside our businesses. As an undergraduate, I didn’t care about learning and, frankly, didn’t retain much. But via the OPM program I immediately implement best practices. For instance pricing: Triple Crown’s brand is premium—not luxury or discount, but middle-of-the-road premium. at means we must implement two strategies: One, provide value. Two, charge fittingly. at’s a very simple concept yet many businesses ignore it. Why? ey aren’t willing to take the risk to charge appropriately. erefore, margins aren’t large enough to create legitimate businesses. When Triple Crown charges appropriately and creates ancillary revenue sources around our primary mix we can pay our employees well and retain them for longer durations. at, in turn, reduces training and development costs. It creates good morale. It gives our employees the ability to buy homes and cars—to keep their kids in good shoes, put food on the table, and enjoy life’s “luxuries.” Nothing excites me more than seeing an employee drive a new car into our parking lot or telling me about paying for their child’s college education. I learned this concept at Harvard. But, when I think about it, it’s nothing new for Triple Crown. Dad practiced it forever. I’ll build on his legacy by pushing it even harder. at means I’ll remove under-valued products and add premium products that warrant premium pricing. is best practice, in turn, supports both our Change Vision and Change Statement.

256.

During my three years in the program, I studied side by side with a global network of talented, diverse, business leaders. We’re still friends. We still care about learning. In May 2018, we’ll travel to China together. But it’s not just for a vacation. We’ll visit numerous businesses and even sit down with Alibaba’s CEO—Alibaba is China’s Amazon. Dad developed and modeled a culture of burning learning—never be satisfied with where you are today because there are always so many more things to learn. anks, Dad. You got us started. at spirit will flourish on my watch.

Proud

Kelly says . . .

ad gets excited about many things. His OPM program tops the list. When he returned to Fort Collins aer his first year, he was super-focused, superenergized and super-clear about what he wanted to do—create a mission statement. e only problem was us—the staﬀ. We weren’t in the same space, so it was like pulling teeth. Did Dad back down? Nope. He sat us down in front of a huge piece of chart paper he’d stuck on the wall and had at it. Dad wrote a few words. en he crossed them oﬀ. “NO! is should be the first line. at should be the second line. What do you all think?” We just sat there and hoped he’d let us get back to work. Little did we know this was the most important work we’d ever do. To our credit we eventually got caught up in Dad’s enthusiasm and contributed. Our mission statement changed Triple Crown’s direction. It was tough to weed out historical regional tournaments and start running special, more spectacular, events. But that altered our brand and ultimately led to making more money. It also changed my life: Aer we developed a mission statement and started pushing in a positive direction, people outside the company talked more and more about my dad. Well, I changed my last name when I got married, so not everybody knows who I am. But as soon as they figure it out, there’s no getting around it: You’re DAVE KING’S daughter? WOW. at makes me proud.

Family Council

Keri says . . .

Act

uring our 2017 OPM class, we learned about family enterprise systems and the governance behind them—family councils, assemblies, shareholders, and family oﬃces. Basically, best practices suggest a variety of governance mechanisms that allow family members to contribute and promote issues that concern the family. at, in turn, promotes the longevity of the family along with that of the family enterprise. For the last five or six years we’ve dabbled in all of this, but now, in alignment with our “Problem Solvers” value, it’s time to pick a choice and act. We decided to make Kelly vice-chair of our family council. at means she’ll audit board meetings and be responsible for presenting the family’s perspective. Kelly is smart, enthusiastic, and dedicated. She clearly has new ideas and opinions. Down the road she might even become a voting board member.

Next Up: Keri King

We looked at him. We looked at each other. Nobody said a word. Finally, Dad said, “I’m not saying you should be interested. But if you are, I’ll facilitate a few things and help you figure out if Triple Crown is a fit.” Kasey was focused on professional dri car racing, so he wasn’t interested. I was dating a man who had four kids, and I had a little one of my own. I knew running Triple Crown was stressful and demanded limitless amounts of time and work. So I said, “I honestly want to focus on my kids. Triple Crown isn’t for me.” But Keri said, “I want to take a stab at it.” To back that up, we took classes at Harvard and learned that a successful family-owned business should have one person in control. Multiple owners are a recipe for disaster—not for the company, but for the family. So it made sense. It was a natural progression for Keri to become the primary owner and Kasey and I to have some ownership but no voting rights. Six years aer we made the decision it still makes sense. But it seems crazy that Kasey and I aren’t in the company, and it’s Keri’s baby. We’re excited for him, support him one hundred percent, and look forward to what will happen on his watch.

Keri says . . .

Kelly says . . .

Single-family-line Passage

n 2011, OPM’s curriculum tasked the family with a single objective: Name Triple Crown’s successor. So during the course-work phase of our program, the family sat shoulder to shoulder and learned how some businesses do a poor job of naming successors and how others do it well. ose that do it well follow the best practice of single-family-line passage.

Moment

ad sees himself as a guy who converted his passion to a business and figured out how to get good enough to make money at it. at was his moment. He wants us kids to have our moment. But he doesn’t see it as a natural Triple Crown moment, unless that’s what we want it to be. at message was a very big deal when our family started talking about succession. At the time, Keri, Kasey, and I all worked for the company. Dad got us together and said, “I know I’ll retire someday. If I get Triple Crown to the point where any of you want it, I’ll pass it on. Is anyone interested?” 258.

During our evening sessions we worked with a focused facilitator who directed us to ask each other: How are you going to pass ownership? Who will your successor be? Is it someone sitting at this table? Is it a nonfamily manager? We talked. en we publically and independently went around the table and voted. It was unanimous: Next up: Keri King.

Next Up: Keri King

“One of my best attributes is my ability to coach and teach.” —Dave King

Fieen-year-old Dave King, Assistant Coach Meeker Baseball, 1973

Warriors Dave says . . .

Coach Dave

ports excite me. Sports are bigger than just one person. My dad says it best, “Sports involve a bunch of warriors who get to go to battle, but nobody is shot or killed. ey come home at night, sit around the campfire, and go at it the next day.” During high school, I didn’t feel my coaches gave me fair justice for who I was. Looking back, it was the best thing that ever happened—because I didn’t get everything I wanted I became a good coach. I watch kids closely. I know everybody has something to contribute. So I ask myself, “What does she have that nobody recognizes?”

262.

Promised Land

or as long as I can remember I loved being around the ballfield and wanted to be a coach when I grew up. My first coaching gig was when I was fieen years old and became the assistant coach in Meeker’s baseball program. For five years, with four diﬀerent rosters, we never made the playoﬀs. But when I became head coach everything changed. Why? I met a kid named Darren Brown. Darren was my first championship pitcher. He trained all day every day and was tougher than nails. Darren had ability and gobbled up whatever I taught him. He was the kid who took us to the Promised Land.

Davids

trong leaders build great teams. Great teams grow and mature based on their leader’s success formula. Some leaders find the best players, and when one great player leaves, they look for another. Some develop their own talent by teaching them the game and bringing them along.

My success formula is Triple Crown’s trademark: I look for players who have strong core characters and leadership abilities. ey are over-achievers who want to develop, so I oﬀer them the opportunity to move their skills from point A to point B and beyond. Basically, I train Davids who want to play Goliaths.

Dreamers

My sucess formula is Triple Crown’s trademark: I look for players who have strong core characters and leadership abilities.

ids fall in love with the dream of playing on a Triple Crown team. So the hardest part of coaching is cutting dreamers. In the past, I didn’t need to cut anyone. I just built another team. Today we have seven women’s teams. e problem is I can no longer develop coaches fast enough to keep up with demand—to give each kid who dreams about playing for us individual attention and a professional product. So, during tryouts, I cut. at hurts me as much as it does the kids. Why? Cutting is the antithesis of our value statement: “Develop Everyone.”

at said Triple Crown is unique—a girl who makes our roster never tries out again. She starts with us, and four years later she finishes with us. at means during tryouts we must make lifetime choices and select girls who are committed to the Triple Crown way. I’m proud to say that, in most cases, we’re spot on. In event aer event, our girls demonstrate strong characters, kind spirits, and exceptional skills. ey help us build our largest division: girls’ fastpitch soball. To date, over 200 girls have gone on to play college ball. eir teams are the cornerstone of Triple Crown’s model, and that raised our credibility. Unlike our early years, we now play in the top programs nationwide. We’re all very proud of our girls who come out of our girls’ fastpitch, and during the summer they provide a seasonal workforce that numbers 70 to 80 per year.

Stand Strong

turned sixty-two in 2018 and still coach. We selfishly create products at Triple Crown for our teams, the King family, and others who love sports. We built our ballfields in 2002, so at 3 p.m. I close my oﬃce door and head down to the fields to coach kids who want more. ey’re “just” a bunch of local kids from Northern Colorado, but they line up to win. ey’re so good they give us the credibility to create the best teams and the top tournaments in the world. e youth sports business is ruled by governing bodies. Triple Crown is a private party. As we grew, governing bodies were concerned we’d take their business, so they made it tough for kids to play for us. But we made it through the battles and stand strong in a free America that opposes monopolies, and I continue to coach great players who all have special storyboards. 263.

To Coach Dave from his girls. White tags indicate schools Coach Daveâ€™s girls selected. Orange dots indicate remaining Division 1 schools in United States.

Jenna Jordan

enna Jordan played travel ball for the Triple Crown Stars. During one trip, her dad died in a work-related accident, so I more or less adopted her. Every day Jenna pounded that little yellow ball—it was her way of dealing with pain. Jenna didn’t start out as a great player, but she got good right in front of my eyes, and during her junior year, she led us to a fih place finish in Nationals. She’s University of Louisville’s captain, and when she graduates in 2018, she wants to be a nurse.

Chelsea O’Connor King

had a number of good players who played for me on Triple Crown’s teams. But Chelsea O’Conner was especially good—one of the best ever. She wanted to hit “live” every day—not oﬀ a machine, not oﬀ a tee, but from a real pitcher. I didn’t know how to pitch fastpitch soball. So she forced me to learn to throw. We spent every night at batting practice—I pitched live, and she hit. Over time, Chelsea got better, and better, and better. We were around each other so much she literally became like an adopted daughter. Her “real” parents were always mad at me because she never made it home on time. During the summer of 2012, Annette and I went to the Olympics. When we got back Keri said, “Dad, I need to talk to you. I’m dating one of your players. You always said I could pick the good ones. is time I picked a real winner. Her name is Chelsea O’Conner. I hope you approve.” Keri was right. Chelsea was the number one recruit on our roster and the greatest hitter I ever coached. She started for the University of Tennessee as a freshman but didn’t like the coaching. en she went to Boston University, where she also started and was an impact player. While at BU, she met Keri, so she transferred back to Colorado State, right here in Fort Collins and became the NCAA RBI Champion and my daughterin-law. A total win. 265.

Canada Cup 2018 Runnerups with an 11-2 record, with wins over 5 diďŹ€erent national teams: Canada twice, Canada Elite twice, New Zealand twice, South Korea, Czech Republic twice. Teams featured 8 former TC Stars players and 4 coaches.

TC Stars with a Colorado Fireworks Runnerup Finish in the 260 team 18 under bracket. Highest Finish by a Colorado Team in over 20 years.

Keri says . . . We’re used to seeing a plethora of young, attractive girls move in and out of Triple Crown’s soball program— they walk through the halls every day. But even aer I divorced in 2012, I didn’t pay any attention. at summer I started my Harvard leadership program. School didn’t start until Sunday, but I had to arrive on Saturday. Where was I going to stay Saturday night? Well, I remembered Chelsea O’Conner, one of our full-time summer seasonal workers, went to Boston University. So I asked her if she could recommend a cheap hotel near Harvard Business School. She said, “You can crash on my couch if you want” and gave me her phone number. I was like: anks. Maybe I’ll take you up on your oﬀer, and didn’t give it a second thought. e next weekend I had six concert tickets to see e Reverend Horton Heat. I scrolled through my phone and called thirty friends. en Chelsea’s number popped up. I thought: I don’t want to date her, but I might as well invite her to tag along. at evening Chelsea was the only one to show up, and our non-date did a 360. Within a couple weeks we were in love. But I wasn’t ready for anything serious, so I called Chelsea and said, “Sorry, but this isn’t going to work.” She said, “at’s fine. Bye.” Before she could hang up on me, I said. “Wait a second! Nobody just says ‘fine.’ Hold on. Let me think about this.”

Chelsea and Keri e rest is history. We were married in 2014, had Tully in 2015 and Maybelle in 2017. For a while there we had more kids than wedding anniversaries. But, for now, we’re at least tied. Chelsea is a much better athlete that I ever was. I was the NCAA Division I RBI champion; Chelsea was the NCAA RBI champion. If there was a more legitimate professional league, she could play in it. But Chelsea wants to stay home with our family. Still, when we play slow-pitch, nobody gets her out. She catches anything and everything in the outfield. Chelsea’s a real stud! 267.

Māori Chieftain

Dave says . . . y great players hail from all walks of life—literally. Ten years ago my soball team was short a pitcher. About the same time a good buddy from New Zealand brought his national team to Fort Collins to train before the international games. As we walked oﬀ the field aer my practice, he said, “Dave, I might have just the right girl for you.” Before long he sent me a native sixteen-year-old New Zealander. I housed her with a local family, took care of her, and got to know her well. While she was in Fort Collins, her dad contracted cancer, so she went home to be with him before he died. Aer he passed, the family sent me a token with instructions saying I was selected to watch over their daughter. I wasn’t exactly sure what that meant, but okay, fine—no big deal. Eventually, Annette and I traveled 12,000 miles to Auckland, New Zealand and visited “our girl.” Come to find out she was born into one of the original Maori families— keep in mind Maori’s are indigenous aboriginal Polynesian warriors. e family’s elders told me “our girl” was in the running for tribe chieain of the Ngati Whatua Tribe. Now here’s where I came in: ey reminded me my job was to watch over her. So we flew her back to Fort Collins, worked her over on the soball field, and helped her get her CPA. e tribe still hasn’t named its next leader, but “our girl” is still in the running. Who knows: Maybe my token means something; maybe it doesn’t. But I take it seriously.

If we performed poorly as a team or treated a teammate with disrespect he challenged us to be better, and we rose to the occasion. Interestingly, that was almost to satisfy Dad—he thought we could do it, so we did it. For several years we were underdogs, yet we had winning seasons. Amazing. Challenge is intrinsic to Dad’s nature—he notices capability in everyone and implements a cycle of improvement. First he points out, “You blew it, kid.” en he says “Do it right next time.” So the expectation is set. As an athlete, your only thought is I WILL do it right. But athletes don’t perform in a perfect world. When next time rolls around, you might still suck. But Dad never gives up on you. He simply repeats the cycle.

Kelly says . . .

Triple Crown Stars

started playing soball when I was just a little kid. Before long my coach wouldn’t play me. I didn’t understand, so I got out, and for a couple years I kept score at my brothers’ baseball tournaments and was their team mascot. Aer Dad finished coaching my brothers, he asked me if I was interested in playing again. I said, “How about this: e day you decide to coach me is the day I’ll start playing.” He agreed and started a team called the Triple Crown Stars. e Stars eventually turned into a high-end soball team and became a major vehicle for college scholarships.

Ultimate Challenger

ere’s a huge diﬀerence between boys’ baseball and girls’ soball. Boys tend to respond to a harsh coach who is like: Get it together! Get it done! Dad tried that with his girls. It was fine with me because that’s what I knew. But his style wasn’t the best for some of my teammates. Before long he learned to frame things diﬀerently and ended up with excellent results.

uring my late-teenage years Dad was my coach. Whether it’s in the workplace or on the ballfield, Dad is the ultimate challenger. at’s how he takes you to a new level you oen don’t see in yourself.

Dad is a great coach. He knows how to bond with people and can rally around things that are fun. He really gets to know his players, and over the years has stayed connected with almost all of them.

Keri says . . .

D 268.

Kelly King, 1995

Master Coach Bill says . . .

elly is the reason Dave got into coaching girls’ soball. He started in the middle of the season when most teams had already formed. I worked with him, and we picked up girls here and there. Our team wasn’t very good, and neither was Kelly, but Dave developed both and ended up with a good team and a daughter who is a good player.

Coach Dave takes no guﬀ—it’s his way or the highway. Probably the worst thing in youth sports is parents who try to get involved when Little Johnny or Little Susie doesn’t get to play. Every season, aer Dave picks his teams, he calls a parents’ meeting and basically says, “is is a Triple Crown tournament. Triple Crown runs professional sporting events. You WILL act like civilized people. You will NOT get on umpires or players. If you don’t like it, take your daughter and leave—right now.” He earns the respect of both parents and kids. Dave has both knowledge and skills, and over the years has learned that girls are VERY diﬀerent than boys. He says, “I can chew out a boy anytime, anywhere, but I have to be careful with girls.” A girl who makes a bad play prefers to learn by talking through her mistake. So aer the game Dave sits with his team and says, “Susie, you did a great job at bat, but when I told you to bunt, you missed the signal. Why?” en they put everything on the table, talk it over, and they’re done. When a girl cries, Dave comforts her, but he doesn’t baby her. Basically, he says, “If they cry, they cry.” Dave’s girls—and boys—are more than lucky to work with a master coach.

September 16, 2013, FloSoftball:

After a month of research and reaching out to over 500 college and club coaches, media members, event producers, and organization administrators, we asked those in softball who they think are the most influential in the sport, from little girls just starting to play to the highest levels of pro (NPF) competition. Dave King, Founder of Triple Crown Sports, made the list of “10 Most Influential People in Softball Today.”

What others are saying: “King has brought a level of competition to help travel ball get to the next level. He puts dollars into it and does it right. Triple Crown does travel ball as well as anybody else in this space.” —Big 12 college coach 270.

Coach Dave with his Triple Crown Stars aî‚?er winning a national tournament. Star player, Chelsea O'Conner King third girl from right top row.

Dreamer Dave

Dedication to Women’s Sports Kelly says . . .

y dad is a dreamer. But he doesn’t just dream, he dreams big. en he dreams bigger. It takes Dad a long time to give up on a dream. He believes if he puts enough positive energy behind it he’ll figure it out.

Sometimes things don’t work out exactly as planned, but Dad turns “failures” upside down and they become lessons learned. Truthfully, some lessons learned were great ways to lose money. But if Dad’s having fun, they’re worth every penny. Nobody tells Colorado Chill’s story better than Dad. It all started with his dedication to women’s sports, and his dream to help them gain notoriety—as you might suspect, it was fueled by his passion for basketball.

First Colorado Chill Roster

Becky Hammon

5’6”

Allison Curtin

6’2”

Edna Campbell Ruth Riley

Katie Cronin

Helen Darling

Maren Walseth

Jill Chapman-Daily

5’9” 6’5” 6’0” 5’3” 6’2”

6’5”

Angie Gorton-Nelp

6’0”

Shannon Randles

6’1”

Jen Roulier

Teresa James

5’9” 6’1”

273.

Colorado Chill Dave says . . .

ecky Hammon grew up in Rapid City, South Dakota. When she was a high school junior, she was voted South Dakota’s Miss Basketball, and as a senior she was South Dakota’s player of the year. But her dad always told her she could never even hope to play NBA basketball. Like most people connected to Triple Crown Becky dreamed big. In 2014, Gregg Popovich, San Antonio Spurs head coach, hired Becky Hammon as the leagues’ first female, full-time assistant coach. I’m proud to say Beck has a special place on Triple Crown’s storyboard. I first met Beck in 1995 when she played basketball for the Colorado State Rams. Aer college, she played for the New York Liberty and asked me to be her agent. Before long I helped her make the roster of a pro league held during the shoulder season of the WNBA in a small town in the Smoky Mountains. Annette and I loved to watch Beck play. Before long one of us said, “is is so much fun. We should do the same thing.” Come to find out the Budweiser Center in Loveland had just opened, and administrators wanted to add a professional basketball team to their mix. So when Colorado State’s marketing guy, Jay Hardy, asked me if I was interested I said, “We’re in—IF the county puts our team’s name on the floor.” “You got it,” Jay said. So we built a roster that included Beck, Katie Cronin, Carrie Bacon, and gold medal Olympian Ruth Riley. We joined the National Women’s Basketball League (NWBL), and formed the Colorado Chill. As happens, one thing led to the next—we bought four condos to house the girls, and that’s how we got into the residential real estate business.

274.

e community and media fell in love with our girls. Fans bought season tickets. Two thousand followers filled the arena. Annette and I sat on the sidelines. Keri dressed up in a bear costume and was our mascot. Our first grandchild, Kutler, was a sideline feature. Helen Darling had triplets, so with three infants and a toddler on our “roster” we set up four sideline cribs. en there was Beck—a blonde, five-foot-five, threetime All-American who looks like your kids’ babysitter. She has big hands, and her knowledge of basketball is second to none. She’s quick, shoots the lights out, buries long threes, and hits ninety percent of her free throws. Everybody was nuts over our Beck. e NWBL was a fledgling, four-team league. When it became obvious that founders and promoters couldn’t stay afloat, Triple Crown carried the financial burden. e Chill won the third year championship, but aer the game I stood in front of a packed crowd and announced we just couldn’t do it any longer. And that was the sad ending of women’s pro basketball in Fort Collins, Colorado. But that wasn’t the end of the Chill’s storyboard: Triple Crown lost $600,000 in three years. It was the dumbest decision in our history. But day in and day out, we had fun—I’ve never had so much fun. To this day, we have fond memories of the Chill and our special gals.

Colorado Chill was the dumbest decision in our history. But day in and day out, we had fun—I’ve never had so much fun.

Becky Hammon's knowledge of basketball is second to none.

Master Himself Kirk says . . .

Legacy Partners

ust recently Dave came up with yet another way to honor people. He calls it “Legacy Partners.” I’ll start by saying Triple Crown itself is part of Dave’s legacy. He’s accomplished more things in thirty-five years than most people can even imagine accomplishing in a lifetime. And now he’s doing a great job transferring the reins of his success to Keri. at’s not easy. But David King is never about easy. Dave is acquiring companies that fit Triple Crown’s formula for “must attend” events. ey have a foothold in local marketplaces and already run good events but aren’t sure how to grow to the next level. Legacy Partners love Dave King. ey’re more than happy and, frankly, flattered that the master himself is willing to help their little babies grow up to be big, strong adults.

Patty says . . .

Hall of Fame

USSSA Hall of Fame

ur awards aren’t trinkets or dust collectors. ey tell a story. And a very big deal award story is about Dave being inducted into Colorado’s USSSA (United States Specialty Sports Association) Hall of Fame for slowpitch. Ironically, USSSA is our competitor, and we butted heads more than once over the years. Yet, because of Dave and Annette’s cutting edge, innovative work, the organization presented him with one of their highest honors.

Pioneers Dave says . . .

ur Hall of Fame inductees are TC pioneers who changed our trajectory and values permanently. If it weren’t for them, we might not still be here.

I did all the write-ups except for Annette’s and mine. And they’re dead on.

Kirk says . . .

Badge of Honor

ne of Dave’s greatest talents is surrounding himself with good people. en he recognizes them and makes them feel valued. It’s part of his marketing genius. I was inducted into the Triple Crown Hall of Fame twenty years ago, and my picture still hangs on my wall as a badge of honor.

278.

“We just couldn’t figure out how to teach creativity.” —Bill Pilcher

Dallas Cowboy System Roland says . . .

Authentic Sports Person

efore technology ramped up, Dave needed a way to expand the business outside Colorado’s borders. He and Kirk researched and discovered the franchise model. So in 1997, they went down that road and contacted Francorp. Francorp’s client list was impressive: Budget, Shell, Terminix, Popeye’s, Burger King. eir model seemed simple: We trained franchisees. ey became us. ey built product in local markets. We grew.

e Francorp guys spent a couple weeks at Triple Crown, looked through our books, and produced a 90 page Uniform Franchise Offering Circular—UFOC. Basically a UFOC is an agreement between corporate and franchisees. In the beginning, Dave tried to sell franchises to staff. But not everybody wanted one, so we lost people because we couldn’t afford to pay them regular wages. Yours truly had just started our baseball program, so, fortunately, I got to stay. Eventually, Dave asked me to sell franchises. I used our target and profile formula to identify people who had acumen and seemed to be teachable, developed a manual, and had at it. For a period of time, franchising was effective and helped develop our brand. Franchisees began by promoting and executing successful weekend tournaments. But as Triple Crown migrated toward enacting our mission statement—to create and develop PREMIUM “Must Attend” Sports Events—there was a disconnect between some franchisees and corporate—they continued weekend tournaments, while we popped out special events. Eventually, the whole thing spun out of control and in many cases didn’t work.

297.

en technology came along and changed the marketing platform. As people became more familiar with the Internet, it was less important to have people other than corporate staﬀ build relationships in a wide marketplace. We just jumped on an airplane two or three times a year, met face to face, and solidified what started with an online connection. In retrospect, we had 21 franchises. Some came and went. Today we have four le, and because they live in their marketplaces, they’re really, really good.

In watching franchises evolve over a twenty-year period, I have to say some hurt our brand and some didn’t. We still have franchisees who are really good people—people who believe in and promote the Triple Crown brand— people who maintain strong relationships with Triple Crown corporate. Technically, franchisees are owners not employees—buying a franchise is a great way to start and manage a business. ey’re mini-CEOs. ey make daily decisions worth thousands of dollars. But, at times, the distinction between owner and employee isn’t clean, and relationships become convoluted. Are they part of “us” or aren’t they? It’s hard to connect the dots. Truthfully, anytime people share revenues divisiveness is natural. I’ve lived in the Triple Crown fishbowl going on thirty years, so I get it: e sports business is strongly dependent on the point person’s leadership. And, truthfully, we couldn’t always clone personal characteristics that allowed franchisees to lead Triple Crown’s charge and make it all work. Being a Texas boy, I equate it to what I call the “Dallas Cowboy system.” Tom Landry built the Cowboys. But if he wants to win Super Bowls he can’t plug in just any ole player. e authentic sports person must be an organized planner, willing to get down in the dirt and grow the grass. ey must understand the competitive environment—teams will lose—so what keeps them coming back? en there’s consistency—do it right the first time; then do it over and over again. 298.

Creativity Bill says . . .

Awesome Concept

hen Dave discovered franchising, he rolled with it and we rolled along with him. His financial commitment was hey, but he was confident it was worth the investment. As with any project, Dave developed a budget:

Budget to convert to franchising: Merchandise consultant: Franchise consultant travel: Legal filings:

$30,000 $4,000 $17,200

TC attorney costs, audit:

$7,500

Frank Bany:

$6,000

Manuals: printing and catalog:

$2,000

Marketing pieces: √ Applications/Rejection letters:

$1,700

√ 4,000 profile cards and letters:

$2,000

√ 2,000 marketing brochures:

$4,000

√ 300 display box & posters:

$800

Total: $75,200

In the beginning, we thought franchisees should be sports people. But what we really needed was business people, who had sports knowledge. Given our misunderstanding, we ended up with some people who couldn’t handle financing or lacked customer service skills. en there was the festival piece: Dave didn’t want basic twenty-team tournaments—he wanted mega-tournaments, food courts, homerun contests, concerts—dazzle. 300.

Every year franchisees were required to come to Fort Collins to attend our franchise school. Dave tried and tried to teach them the TC Way, but it wasn’t easy to start from ground zero, so in many cases franchisees sold back to Triple Crown corporate.

As I recall the franchise fees ranged from $17,500 to $50,000, depending on the number of sports. Franchisees were required to purchase souvenirs, awards, forms, banners, and defined equipment from us. We provided facility insurance, rights to use our logo, exclusive territory rights, rights to use major sponsors, and rights to revenue from entry fees, souvenir sales, local sponsorship sales, contests, food and beverage. e franchisee paid us ten percent of their tournament revenue. In some instances, franchisees conducted illegal operations—maybe they rented ballfields but never paid the city. We got in a real tough situation in Texas when one guy stole from his partner. It got so nasty we ended up hiring an attorney who fought it out with their attorney. As it turned out, they couldn’t get along so we took it over. en there was the dentist in Minnesota: He paid his fee, but never put much eﬀort into his business, so in a couple years he wrote us a letter saying, “I’m done!” Eighty-four percent of McDonald’s restaurants are successful franchises. So, we always said, “Let’s be like McDonalds—no matter where you go, hamburgers taste the same, pickles are portioned precisely, French fries are salted just so.” In our case, we wanted our customers’ next tournament to be the same as their last tournament. Our biggest problem was we couldn’t get most franchisees to take their business to the next level. Dave’s creativity is oﬀ the chart. He’s a rare breed. He really is. His mind goes a hundred miles an hour. He never sits still. He goes to Harvard and picks everybody’s brain— probably drives ’em nuts! He’s a great learner, takes in everything, and has a photographic memory. at takes creativity. But we just couldn’t figure out how to teach creativity. at’s too bad because franchising is an awesome concept.

Dave Kingâ€™s creativity is oďŹ€ the charts.

“All our events are Must-Attend Events. Then there are the Superstars.” —John Casale

Omaha SlumpBuster World’s largest, most highly attended youth baseball spectacle in the country 600 teams from 40 states 73 fields 19 facilities 9 days 1 memorable event

How baseball is meant to be played: √ Build memories √ Bring families together √ Sharpen skills √ College World Series games √ Learn from Domingo Ayala √ Festival night √ Burning of the bats √ Pin trading √ Skills challenges √ Vendor row √ Variety of formats √ Invite-only TSCB Division I Championships √ Six-game lightning round √ Pro-Player workouts √ Visit TD Ameritrade Stadium

Weather Alert

Kasey says . . .

icture this: I’m in Fort Collins, standing in my backyard, grilling a chicken breast, wishing I was at the SlumpBuster. My phone buzzed. WEATHER ALERT: Council Bluﬀs, Iowa. DANGER! Expect severe thunderstorms, 90-mile-an-hour winds, huge hailstones, possible tornados. DANGER!

was born into a sports family. My parents took me to the fields when I was still in diapers. And it rubbed oﬀ—I always was and still am an athlete. I played ice hockey, which is something no one else in our family played, but I enjoyed it. en there was baseball . . .

Keri says . . .

Background: I started the Omaha SlumpBuster. I built it based on my love of Burning Man. Kids who want their slumps busted bring wooden bats; we throw them on a big pile and burn them. It was my baby. But my brother was running special event night. And I was stuck 500 miles away grilling chicken. Can you say, “Not happy”? I called my brother. “Kasey! You gotta evacuate everybody—NOW.” Silence. I could just feel him look up at the sky. “Nah. It’s sunny. Everything’s just fine. You worry too much. ” “Kasey! It’s not just fine. I pulled up Doppler radar. A huge storm is barreling down on 8,000 customers. It’s treacherous.” “Nah. No storm. We’re just fine. I got this one, Keri.” With that he hung up on me. I’m thinking: What the . . . But I knew Kasey wouldn’t comply with my demand to evacuate. To his credit, evacuation is a very big deal that could cost us up to fieen thousand dollars in lost merchandise sales. Still, I called a staff member and said, “Get on the PA. Make an announcement. Everybody must exit—NOW.” Customers streamed out of the park. My brother, of course, was the last one to leave. By then, a huge black cloud loomed overhead. Kasey jumped in his truck. Before he could even roll up the window a frontline wind gust sucked the hat off his head and shot it into a ditch—gone forever. Kasey drove off. I only hope he learned two things: Don’t mess with Mother Nature. Listen to your brother—at least every once in a while.

In My Blood

I started playing baseball in our backyard with our babysitter, my friends, and my brother. Keri is a good baseball player—actually, Keri is good at everything. I liked playing with him because he challenged me. I wanted to play as hard as he did, so I did my best to keep up. Keri worked me over more than once, and we usually ended up crying, screaming, and fighting, all at the same time. at made me a better person. But changing the rules halfway through the game made me a frustrated person. But I’d go to sleep every night and wake up every morning thinking about somebody to play baseball with me. And more oen than not that somebody was my brother. When I was twelve, Dad started youth baseball tournaments, and as he built the business, he used me and Keri for marketing. For six weeks straight, we played a doubleheader one day and the next day we traveled east, west, north, and south until we ended up playing in every state from Colorado to Florida and all the way up to Canada. So storm or no storm, hat or no hat, the SlumpBuster was in my blood.

I built Omaha SlumpBuster based on my love of Burning Man. Kids who want their slumps busted bring wooden bats; we throw them on a big pile and burn them.

305.

Mountain Magic

The Triple Crown tradition continues

What: Slow-pitch softball When: Three-day Fourth of July Weekend Where: MAGICAL Steamboat Springs, Colorado

Patty says . . .

Triple Crown is BACK with: √ Free beer √ Loud music √ Homerun Derby—all proceeds go to charity

Triple Crown’s Legacy

’m lucky. During our slow-pitch heydays everybody in Colorado carved out the Fourth of July weekend to play in our Steamboat event. I mean, it was THE thing to do. When we decided to wave goodbye to slow-pitch we tried to run youth baseball that weekend. Families weren’t interested. It fizzled.

√ Prizes √ Parade √ Fireworks √ Mountain shops √ Restaurants galore √ Zip line √ Hot springs √ Alpine slide √ Mountain biking √ Tubing the Yampa √ Horseback riding √ Ski jump exhibitions by Olympic athletes √ Live concerts in the park √ Family BBQs √ Dogs welcome on the fields √ USSSA-sanctioned √ Wood Bat Division: Bring what you swing! √ MVP and All-tournament awards √ Multi-team discounts √ Teams stay together with lodging specials

Four years later, Dave and I put our heads together, and he said, “Patty. Consider this: Go to Steamboat over the Fourth of July weekend. Run slow-pitch again. Bring it back. Make it special. Use the proceeds to benefit your women’s slow-pitch team.” It took me half a heartbeat to run with it. I worked upside down and sideways to partner with USSSA. Finally, I was thrilled to announce: Triple Crown’s tradition continues! Mountain Magic! Fourth of July Weekend! Steamboat Springs, Colorado! Men! Women! Coed! Electric environment! No conflict! Double-elimination format! e first year I had 12 teams. Eight years later over 90 teams signed up. So we’re back, and we’re special. My old teams from Florida, California, and Texas attend. ey bring their adult kids. Sixty-year-old dads play with their fortyyear-old sons. Old friends reunite. We added a wood-bat division, and that returns us to the integrity, purity, and spirit of slow-pitch. In explanation, bat technology stole the game’s beauty. In the old days, we gave awards for double plays and diving catches. But when everybody—old, young, fat, skinny, tall, short, men, women—started plunking down $350 for a modern bat, the game was all about homeruns. Suddenly, everybody was a homerun superstar. I’m very proud and honored to contribute to my first true love, my teams’ passion, and Triple Crown’s legacy: slow-pitch soball. As of 2018, we’ve hosted eight events in Steamboat in slow-pitch, baseball, and fastpitch. Why? It’s true Mountain Magic. 307.

Puerto Vallarta, 1994 Eighteen-year-old MLB star Alex Rodriguez and MLB star Jose Canseco with Dave, Daveâ€™s sons Keri and Kasey, and Gene Plummer, Jason Ornstein, and Kent Oldham from Triple Crown

Puerto Vallarta College Challenge

The secretâ€™s out: February baseball in Puerto Vallarta, Mexico Magic guaranteed

Back in Time Dave says . . .

riple Crown Sports welcomes you to Nancy Almaraz Stadium . . . only a homerun’s length away from the ocean:

√ Two weeks of ACTION in Puerto Vallarta, Mexico √ Invitational √ First-class event √ Fan’s ticket package √ Ranked NCAA D-1 programs √ Exceptional talent √ Youth clinics

hen we’re kids, life is magical. But we grow up and the magic goes away. en there’s Puerto Vallarta, Mexico. It’s 40 years behind America. It’s a place where I go back in time to life the way it used to be—a time when people didn’t measure success by fast-paced careers, huge mortgages, and hey payments on two cars—a time when kids rode bicycles everywhere and nobody worried. People in Puerto Vallarta are good people with good values— people who still get life’s magic. Hell. Do-gooders in America decided if you drink a beer at a community ballpark you’re likely to get drunk and cause problems. What happened to just being social and having a good time? Teams and fans were chased out of community parks by “save the world” fanatics. America has “protected” people so much nobody is trusted to drink a beer and know when to stop. Sure you can drink beer in professional parks. But God forbid you drink one in a community park.

√ Internet &Wi-Fi friendly media & press row √ Twenty-five miles of golden beaches within spectacular Banderas Bay √ Tropical breezes √ Turquois sea √ Traditional spirit and soul of Mexico √ Art walk, Watersports, Nightlife, Authentic Mexican Cuisine √ All-inclusive beach resort √ Travel packages

Our park in Puerto Vallarta is everything parks in America used to be: e ball flies over the fence. Kids, bikes, and vendors are everywhere. An occasional dog runs across the outfield. Everyone feels welcome. Everyone has a good time. When we first went to Puerto Vallarta in 1991 we played slow-pitch at a baseball facility that was in terrible disarray. e next year we came back with more teams and started to make a few repairs. By the time 1995 rolled around our tournament—the Crown Jewel—had grown so much we needed a really good facility. So we flew Nacho Gonzalez, the parks and rec director, to Fort Collins and showed him what a from-scratch stadium could look like. He liked what he saw, so we sent money for lights, sod, fences, batting cages, bleachers—just everything—and he oversaw construction of Nancy Alvarez Stadium. Nancy was an American expat who did a lot for Puerto Vallarta’s youth. e Mexican people love her, so her statue sits in the stadium. True Story: Aer we got Puerto Vallarta really rolling, we had a team named “40-40,” run by the then current MLB superstar Jose Canseco, playing not baseball but coed 309.

slow-pitch soball. e team name stood for 40 homeruns and 40 stolen bases that Jose had accomplished in a single season. On the team, was a top women’s player, Lisa Fernandez. Lisa is a four-time NFCA First Team AllAmerican and a three-time gold medal Olympian. Jose brought his coed team down to play slow-pitch with us in the mid-’90s. We were short on men’s teams, so Keri, Kasey, I, and a couple friends suited up with Jose and men from his coed team. Keri and Kasey were only fieen and thirteen, but they were darn decent soball players, and my friends and I could hold our own. Just before the game started Jose introduced me to his eighteen-year-old protégé and claimed he was baseball’s next legend. We played him at shortstop and some at first, but he struggled to hit slow-pitch. Well, the so-called protégé had to get back to the States to sign his rookie card at some big show, so he le early before we hit the bracket finish. I thought: Good luck. You’re gonna need it. BTW: e kid’s name happens to be A-Rod. I guess MLB saw something I didn’t. Today, Nancy Alvarez Stadium is the home of the Puerto Vallarta College Challenge. We still hold a slowpitch tournament but our real strength is the high-caliber college soball teams that Triple Crown brings to Mexico in February and puts on a dynamite tournament that’s a unique kickoﬀ to spring season. Our inaugural 2015 Challenge was the first time in NCAA’s history that fastpitch teams played outside the United States in regular season games. And we continue to grow. I turned over Triple Crown’s CEO position to Keri in 2017, but I love the College Challenge so much, I’ll keep it on my roster. Annette and I are happy in Puerto Vallarta, so we built a house three blocks from the field in old downtown Puerto Vallarta. We love the Mexican people, and they love us and our family. Even the mayor supports us. For ten weeks a year I walk back and forth from our home to the ballfield, work a few hours, and still am on vacation. I mean, I love the place. Puerto Vallarta, the College Challenge, and our home go hand-in-hand. 310.

Past Participants:

Auburn (SEC)

Cal State Fullerton (Big West)

Fresno State (Mountain West) Nebraska (Big Ten)

West Northern Colorado (Big Sky) Southern Illinois (Big 12) BYU (West Coast)

Florida Gulf Coast (Atlantic Sun) Mississippi State (SEC)

Nevada (Mountain West)

Texas Tech (Big 12)

Washington (Pac 12)

Northern Colorado (Big Sky) Oklahoma (Big 12)

Southern Illinois (Missouri Valley) Washington (Pac 12) Oregon (Pac 12)

Mississippi (SEC)

Long Beach State (Big West) Texas (Big 12)

Houston (American Athletic Conference) Rutgers (Big Ten)

Louisiana Tech (Conference USA)

James Madison (Colonial Athletic Association)

Kelly says . . .

Why Not?

uerto Vallarta is such a cool community. Even though it’s a big town, it still has a small town feel. To this day we have great friends in Puerto Vallarta.

e year I was a high school junior, Dad came back from Mexico and said, “I met two girls who want to come to Fort Collins and play soball with us.” I said, “You mean two Mexican locals? For real?” Dad said, “For real. What do you think?” I said, “Why not? Let’s do it!” Come to find out the girls understood English and I understood Spanish, but as far as speaking each other’s languages . . . well, that took some work. But we managed, and it was all great fun.

e King Family, Puerto Vallarta, Mexico

e girls stayed in condos we owned. I still laugh about the air conditioning: It was the dead of summer. Hot— really hot. We turned the air conditioner to low. ey hated it. I asked, “Porque?” And they managed to let me know they weren’t used to AC. I said, “I guess what’s good for the goose isn’t always good for the gander.” ey had no idea what I meant, but we turned oﬀ the air conditioner. e two girls shaped my life. And when Dad helped them get into college, he shaped theirs. 312.

Right Thing to Do

ad doesn’t need—or want—recognition for what he does. He does a million and one things just because they’re the right thing to do. Take the house he and Mom built in Puerto Vallarta . . .

Nacho Gonzalez, our friend in Puerto Vallarta, has parents who are getting up there in years. ey’ve always worked hard but have no retirement. Plus Nacho’s dad has Alzheimer’s. Dad oﬀered to buy their house for a good amount of money, fix it up, and allow them to still live there. at’s Dad for you. He’s one of those people who “get it said, get it done.” And, yep, that’s straight oﬀ Triple Crown’s value statement.

“Our trip to Puerto Vallarta was truly exceptional. Our studentathletes have commented that it was one of the best moments of their collegiate careers. Triple Crown Sports had everything taken care of from transportation, to hotel, to meals for our entire travel party. We were able to create a once in a lifetime experience for so many. We look forward to returning to the TCS Puerto Vallarta College Challenge again in the future!" —Shana Easley, Head Coach, University of Northern Colorado

313.

Crown Jewel Awards Ceremony at Le KliďŹ€ in Puerto Vallarta, 1996

Alex Rodrequez, MLB Star; Jose Conseco, MLB Star playing with Dave and sons Keri, Kasey in Puerto Vallarta; Gene Plummer, Jason Omstein, Kent Oldham, 1994

Dave says . . .

315.

Cancun Challenge

Welcome to Basketball Heaven 2017 Womenâ€™s field:

2017 Menâ€™s field:

Arizona State

Binghamton

Columbia

CSUN

Green Bay Indiana State Marquette Mississippi State Montana

Evansville Fresno State George Mason Louisiana Tech

Oklahoma State

Montana State

South Dakota

SEMO

Tennessee

Stay and play at the Hard Rock Hotel Riviera Maya in Cancun, Mexico:

√ Invitational men’s field √ Invitational women’s field √ ree-game round robin √ Two-game round robin √ MVP awards √ All-tournament team awards √ Passionate fans √ All-inclusive rock star vacation √ Games, practices, unlimited food and beverage, world-class entertainment √ Native Mayan tribal dancers √ Men's and Women's team banquet and mixer √ Take photographs; Collect autographs √ Private hydro tubs √ Expansive outdoor pools and private beach √ Private balcony with hammock √ Personal liquor dispenser √ World-class golf √ Visit Temple of Kukulcan—one of the New Seven Wonders of the World √ Visit Tulum—the archaeological site of a PreColombian walled city √ Swim, splash, and play with the dolphins

Top Five Dave says...

he Cancun Challenge began with a real challenge. In 2002, we tried to start a women’s basketball tournament in Puerto Vallarta, Mexico but couldn’t find a venue that had a ballroom ceiling high enough. Brent Amick jumped online and looked at every resort in Mexico. Come to find out Moon Palace, Cancun’s largest resort, met our needs, and we got going in 2005 with a D1 women’s college basketball tournament. We transported hoops and the floor to Mexico and ripped out and stored away all the old fixtures. e ballroom was ready to go. Days before our event, Hurricane Wilma arrived. She pounded the Cancun area with 125-mile-an-hour winds and torrential rains. She flooded streets with four feet of water and trapped thousands of tourists. Now what?

Brent hopped back online and found Moon’s sister property, Aventura Spa Palace. e property didn’t take a direct hit and damage was fairly minimal. So we pulled our floor out of Moon’s hurricane shelter and trucked it to Aventura. at was easy compared to getting our teams from the States to Mexico. e Puerto Vallarta and Cancun airports were basically shut down. So we flew them into Merida and bused them over 200 miles to play in our first Cancun Challenge. In 2009, we added a men’s Division 1 tournament in conjunction with the women’s. Fourteen years later Aventura Spa Palace is the beautifully renovated Hard Rock Riviera Maya. e resort’s convention center ballroom is converted into an arena that provides fans with a special close-up view of the games. And Sports Illustrated ranks the Cancun Challenge in the top-five preseason basketball tournaments in the nation.

“The Cancun Challenge was a great experience for our eight-toseventy-nine-year-old family. Fantastic! We’ll be back.” —TC Fan

317.

Colorado Sparkler TCâ€™s Largest Ever Event 1,000 Teams 1,000 College Coaches 32,000 People Itâ€™s time to SPARKLE

Hundreds of elite coaches Meet Thousands of future superstars

Headquarters Christopher Complex Westminster, Colorado Among the finest four-field complexes in the United States

Own it!

Bill says . . .

Economic Engine Calling all elite coaches and future superstars:

√ Students: Show oﬀ in front of actively recruiting college coaches √ Coaches: Preview your next superstars √ Possible on-site scholarships √ Organized workouts √ Homerun competition √ Fastest @ the 4th competition √ Honor our military during a special game √ On-deck camp √ All-star games √ All-American games

ack in the ’90s Aurora, Colorado held a recruiting tournament for college coaches. eir twelve-field complex and forty-year history drew elite coaches and future college superstars from all over the country. Dave’s team couldn’t get in. So we built one ourselves, at the same time, but in a diﬀerent part of Denver and called it the Sparkler.

e first year—2002—fiy-eight teams signed up. We scrambled around and eventually the Sparkler took on a life of its own. Per Triple Crown tradition, we added, well . . . we added sparkle. Later we rented the Pepsi Center in Denver and added a rock concert. As always, Dave went for the best and tried to book ZZ Top. But when their agent asked for a quarter million dollars, he dialed back and booked country singer Kellie Pickler. We lost our tail on that one, but sometimes that’s just the way it goes. Over the years, we’ve grown the Sparkler and its accompanying Fireworks and Sparkler Junior to be the premier college recruiting tournament in the country. Kids are awarded scholarships on the spot. Some even go on to play pro soball.

√ All-academic games √ Best of the best games √ Unsigned senior workout √ Festivals √ Food and fastpitch product vendors √ Celebrities sign autographs on-site √ Live ESPN3 coverage

Eventually, we bought out the guys from Aurora, so Triple Crown controls Denver’s sprawling Metroplex Fourth of July market. In 2016, 1,000 teams signed up. at equals 32,000 people who come and stay a week. at’s one heck of an economic engine.

We’ve grown the Sparkler and its accompanying Fireworks and Sparkler Junior to be the premier college recruiting tournament in the country. 319.

Dave says...

320.

321.

Women’s National Invitational Tournament Annual preseason and postseason invitation only

WNIT:

Committed to promoting women’s basketball More practices Play-oﬀ atmosphere Passionate fans Build for next season

Preseason: √ 16 of the nation’s top women’s Division I teams

Past Champions:

√ Selection based on program’s expected current season success, relevant past, conference standings, fan base, and geographics √ ree-game guarantee format

√ 2018 Indiana √ 2017 Michigan √ 2016 South Dakota √ 2015 UCLA

√ Games hosted by participating schools at home facility √ All-Tournament team highlights six players, including tournament MVP

√ 2014 Rutgers √ 2013 Drexel √ 2012 Oklahoma State √ 2011 Toledo

Postseason:

√ 2010 California

√ 64 of the nation’s top women’s Division I teams

√ 2009 South Florida

√ Single-elimination rounds

√ 2008 Marquette

√ All games, including the semifinals and championship, hosted by participating schools

√ 2007 Wyoming

√ Championship game televised live nationally √ Travel agents available late at night and on weekends to secure next-round travel

323.

Dave and Brent Amick at WNIT with National Sponsor, 1997

Dave says...

New Momentum

n 1992 we acquired Cramer and that led us to 3-on-3 basketball. e Cramer guys and our then-sponsors, Nike and Russell Athletics, were heavy into opening up Europe. So we went over and sponsored a 3-on-3 event at the Crystal Palace in London. In Europe, pro sports and club sports are the same thing: You walk your way down and play your way up. Nobody understood our event. So we put ourselves in as participants: Dan Cramer, Dave King, and board member, Mike Taylor, and it got oﬀ the ground with the men’s pros. e Brazilian and Italian women also played in the London core tournament. ey were so good I got excited about starting a women’s professional basketball tournament in the States. I hired my friend, Brent Amick, to do the due diligence. Brent concluded women’s pro basketball wasn’t a good idea, but there was an opportunity in collegiate ball. I said, “Let’s build it.” But Brent warned that we didn’t know enough and turned me on to University of Washington and Southwest Missouri. When I called and asked if they’d play in our first preseason WNIT, they said only if we discovered the crowd’s demographic makeup and the income stream. So I hired Bill Sutton, who is now the lead NBA researcher and world’s top authority on sports ticketing and profiling, to conduct initial research. My dad was a basketball coach, my mother was a good player, my wife was a great player, and I loved the game so it only made sense for me to test Bill’s findings at Colorado State. I walked into CSU’s arena, sat next to Tom Jurich, the athletic director, and said, “You’ve got a couple hundred fans here. What about letting me test out a couple things at CSU?” I was floored when Tom—one of the most famous athletic directors in the States—said, “Do whatever you want. It’s all yours. Have at it.” And that’s what led to our preseason WNIT program. It sure helped when a little miracle worker by the name of Becky Hammon and her dynamite teammate, Katie Cronin, made CSU’s roster. e place went nuts, and we ended up selling out the arena. We, then, took principles we’d learned from Colorado State during the preseason WNIT and went aer the postseason. e postseason WNIT has broken fan attendance records in ten of the finals. e event brought new momentum in women’s sports to many of America’s colleges. It has been our largest contribution to the growth of women’s basketball.

Affordable:

Triple Crown’s WNIT makes hosting affordable for all teams. Teams can host in the first round for a guarantee of $6,500 a game and in the second

round for $7,500 a game. Teams pay no more than $12,000 combined for all road games in the postseason WNIT.

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327.

328.

329.

330.

331.

“We’re as proud of our losses as we are of our wins.” —Dave King

Sticky notes are a visual organizing tool.

Management by Sticky Notes & Notebooks Easy

Notebooks

o you know why 3M designed sticky notes? Most think they’re colorful place markers. Wrong. Sticky notes are a visual organizing tool. I stole 3M’s idea, and it is a very active part of who I am.

hen there are my notebooks. I get to work by 6 a.m. and use the first hour every morning to think and write in my notebooks. I’ve kept a daily notebook for thirty-six years, so I guess they’re either famous or infamous.

Dave says . . .

During a single moment in time, my brain is in lots of different places, churning out lots of different concepts. I know what I’m thinking. I know what I want. But most people can’t stay with me. ey’re confused. I’m frustrated. We all waste time. So back in the day, I started jotting my ideas on sticky notes and posting them on a big board. My notes are color coded and easy to move around. People can look at my board and say, “I get it. You want me to build three tournaments, and lead off with a Friday night party.” End of conversation. Sticky notes have another use. I’m organized beyond organized. Like most really people, I have lots of throwaway moments. Sticky notes are a visual elimination process. I don’t stack them in a drawer. I don’t review them year to year. I don’t ask someone else to save them for me. I throw them away. No clutter. No confusion. Done. Basically, sticky notes are an effective and efficient way to create a visual presentation of core concepts and to shape that presentation day in and day out. Anybody and everybody can walk into my office and understand today’s storyboard. It’s just that easy. It’s interesting that I started using sticky notes way before I went to Harvard and learned best practices. A fundamental best practice is clarity. If you’re in charge, be clear about your vision, work expectations, collective roles, and values. People have enough confusion in their lives. ey don’t need to walk into your life and get further tangled up. Sticky notes equal clarity. So, in this case anyway, I knew what to do before I knew what I was supposed to do.

Where do my good ideas come from? √ Flipchart work √ Notebooks √ Sticky notes √ Driving on road trips √ Prayer √ Clearing my head √ But mostly from others

335.

Kirk says . . .

Mind of His Own

ven as a kid, David King had a mind of his own. He was a pioneer who’d churn out ideas and schemes faster than lightning. When—and if—his buddies caught up, we’d kind of scratch our heads and wonder: WOW. Why didn’t I think of that? Dave came out of the womb organized. He thinks, plans, and records results. I mean, do you know anybody who has thirty-six years’ worth of handwritten daily journals that detail everything from TC’s strategic goals, to how many nails he needs to build a deck, to poems he wrote to his wife? Who else organizes their life with sticky notes, breathes spreadsheets, creates self-improvement analytical cash-flow soware, and learns best practices at Harvard Business School?

Keri says . . .

Belief in People

ad is my main teacher. He taught me command and control. Part of my thematic goal is to expand my style to be less top down—to involve others in major decisions. It will take time, but my objective is to establish a culture that is right for Keri King, CEO. And that will, in some regards, be diﬀerent from David King, CEO. But some things will never change. Dad’s belief in people is at the top of the list. We have a dozen employees who have been with us for more than twenty years. We’re far from the highest base-wage industry, and they had other options. But Dad’s leadership meant more than pay, so they stayed. Even when they weren’t the best people for particular jobs, Dad had a vision for their success—he gave them a chance to go through rough patches, experience the pain, and was waiting for them at the other side. Probably 90 percent of our event directors had no experience running events. Our HR director didn’t have prior HR experience. People in the warehouse, accounting, travel, even yours truly, the CEO, didn’t have prior experience in our particular jobs. But Dad didn’t fire us. Even when we rubbed others the wrong way, he respected us. He recognized our value systems center around his and Triple Crowns. He believed we needed to stick around even when we weren’t experts. He helped us grow and develop our skills. He believed we could perform beyond our capabilities—so we do.

“Thank you to our 20-year crew: Alberta, Annette, Keri, Kelly, Beau, Roland, Sally, Debbie, Sean, Patty, John, and Brent. You lived most of this. To you short and mid-termers: Cherish your journey. The destination is always overrated.” —David King, Founder

336.

337.

Keri says . . .

Triple Crown’s Future

n November 3, 2017, the day Dad introduced me as Triple Crown’s new CEO, I stood up in front of our employees and said,

“is is to you, Dad. First and foremost I am so thankful for your service to Triple Crown. You trained almost every person in this room. You’ve infused us with a family-first culture. en you lived it. You’ve inspired me, and all of us, to do better through immense challenges. You’ve shaped our thinking and affected our values. And now, I’m ready to go. I’m ready to continue your legacy.

I want all of you to know that I’m here for the long haul to make Triple Crown better through you—our associates. During the next twenty years, I will help Triple Crown become a fiy-million-dollar company. But I can’t do it alone. e thematic goal in 2018 is associates first. It’s about giving you the tools you need to be successful. It’s about improving our customers’ experiences so they continue returning to our events. And if something is wrong, I want you to come directly to me. My door is wide open. I do have one order of business on my first day as CEO. Recall Ed Jones? He was a cigar-smoking kind of guy. In honor of Ed, our Jones room is now a cigar lounge!” ank you, Dad. Because of your wisdom, I inherited a group of experienced, eﬀective employees— employees who get it done—employees who have fun. Together we will form Triple Crown’s future. BTW: Dad, I also thank you for passing on your management by sticky note system. I really like it. It’s a powerful technique that will continue on my watch. For sure.

339.

Job Review Dave says . . .

Proprietary Software

ack in ’97 I sourced best practices for job reviews. en we developed a simple form and started reviewing employees. Before long, I said to myself: I need to sit down and do a personal review. So I did. And that that alerted me to issues I had with the business and with me as CEO. You see, 1994 was a correction year—our goal was to get out of 1993’s mess. We made some major changes during 1996 and 1997, but we weren’t where we needed to be. We still had a problem with cash. We still operated hand-to-mouth. I said to myself: You’re going into the tenth year of running Triple Crown. Is this what you want to do the rest of your life? I did. So I connected the dots: Triple Crown needs to improve . . . Dave King is Triple Crown’s leader . . . Leaders drive improvement . . . Dave King needs to improve. I, then, asked myself: HOW does Dave King need to improve? e answer was apparent: Dave King needs to master more professional skills. So I started down the path of figuring it out.

Cash Is King

ash is king is a trite saying. People repeat it over and over. It should be obvious. Cash is THE premier, fundamental source to measure business sustainability. Not ONE of the measuring sources—THE measuring source. I couldn’t wrap my arms around the company’s cash, and that kept me up at night. My improvement plan started to take shape: Dave King needs to build a tool that shows him how and what drives Triple Crown’s cash.

340.

Layman’s Tool

’m in a rather weird space. Very few people who run companies are like me: I’m a CEO with CFO habits. But I’m not a CFO. So my tool—TCfuturecashflows— is not an accounting tool. Instead, it’s a proprietary layman’s tool to manage cash flow.

I never saw a spreadsheet I don’t love, so I built a spreadsheet with drivers that tie numerous forecasting tools together. It’s similar to a pro-forma, but works in real time, using real line item ledger entries. I use history to benchmark what I know. en I play oﬀ it to trend out costs, revenues, events, teams, salaries, prices, and growth. Over time, my tool evolved to become Triple Crown’s cornerstone cash flow management tool. at tool alone helps us grow our business. It gives us the ability to calculate opportunities, without a banker’s say so; it allows us the comfort of structuring deals, paying oﬀ debts, making new investments, and handling downturns in the economy.

Legacy

rolled out my first rendition in 1998. Since then, our accounting firm’s analytical wizard, Chad Jenkins, helped me with revisions and improvements. Chad is as proud of my tool as I am. I’m confident he and Keri will continue to refine and use what I started twenty years ago. I like to think my proprietary soware tool contributes to my Triple Crown legacy.

I said to myself: You’re going into the tenth year of running Triple Crown. Is this what you want to do the rest of your life? I did.

Dave says . . .

Independent Board of Directors

Control Freaks

y nature, entrepreneurial founders are decision-making, control freaks. eir common fear is that an independent board of directors will pull back the curtain and reveal the truth: e “all-powerful wizard” is just a normal, middle-aged ventriloquist, living a prolonged illusion. Back in the day, that was me.

When I started putting together Triple Crown’s board, I didn’t understand the word “independent,” and I didn’t study best practices for family-owned businesses. So I formed an inside board, and because I was the boss, they rubberstamped whatever I said and Triple Crown maintained status quo. I appreciate what they did, but we needed more.

341.

Exceptional Talent

t took me almost twenty years to endorse and adopt a talented, qualified independent board. at was a watershed moment that moved us to heights we’d never seen.

Why? An independent board views Triple Crown differently than those who have vested-interest agendas. With an independent board, three things stand firm. One: Members don’t manage the business, so we hold board meetings, not management meetings. Two: Members don’t hold substantial ownership in the business, so they don’t make decisions about their personal financial outcome. ree: Members aren’t family, so they don’t spout similar ownership principles. How I found our independent board is an interesting storyboard in itself: First I asked myself, “What skills and talents do people who can analyze strategies and lead Triple Crown to a financially stable future need?” As I started down the path of locating them, I recognized that exceptional talent was right there in front of me at Harvard Business School. As an FYI: Most people you want and need in your life are right in front of you. But you fail to notice them and how they perform. Look up. I knew I needed to pick extremely strong, disciplined, prepared adults—effective communicators with values similar to ours. Harvard is famous for case studies, so I decided to run my own private Triple Crown case study. I had the data. It was time to use it. Without anyone knowing what I was up to I made a list of my co-students, and for three years I watched how they managed themselves. I crossed off people who closed down parties at night. I crossed off people who had values similar to those at First Centennial Insurance. I crossed off people who didn’t make good choices. When I finished, I’d selected a handful of people who, along with Kirk Gentry, my original partner, I wanted to be on our board. en, in my role as the board’s chairman, I recruited. And I’m proud to say Triple Crown now has a very balanced board of males and females, who hail from a variety of industries and countries around the world.

√ √ √ √ √ √ √ √ √ 342.

Triple Crown Sports Independent Board 2017

David King, Chairman Keri King, Triple Crown Sports, CEO Stephen VanDerWalt, South African Businessman Mairi Mickel, Scottish Female Builder Steven Marston, Jamaican Businessman Hope Johnson, Bank Holding Company Chairman and President Kirk Gentry, Montana Outdoorsman and Guest Cabin/Ranch Owner Gear Fisher, CEO Colorado Web Service, Company: Training Peaks Debbie Bing, Principal CFAR, heads up Boston Consulting Group

Shared Values

ne board member has extreme wealth. A legitimate question is, “Why does he want to serve on the board of a company with $25 million in revenue?” Truthfully, why does anyone want to serve on our board? What can they lend or learn? In the beginning we didn’t even compensate board members. Today we pay them a nominal fee—$2,000 for a live meeting and $500 for a phone call. e real hook was shared values. en they saw me in action and recognized that I’m, literally, an open book. Very seldom do I keep anything from anybody. Plus, it’s fun and, frankly, “sexy” to tackle a relatively young sports company. So, one at a time, they lined up to help us win. e process of creating and maintaining an independent board comes with almost unbelievable results. It offers opportunity for three distinct change moments. One is working through the discipline and rigor required to create the board. e second is open board meetings. e third is returning home, meeting with staff, and administering corrections. Topics at board meetings are open and robust. We share. Board members learn valuable lessons from each other. Our purpose is to discover, not rubberstamp. Most owners don’t want advice. ey simply want to move it on. But in order to create a better company, we need advice. As chairman of the board, I get it. I said to Keri, “e board will go against you. e board will make demands. If you ignore their advice and position yourself as the expert, you will chase off the best talent we ever put together. But if you ask questions—if you submit yourself to their process—this group of accomplished people will help you.” End of storyboard.

Kirk says . . .

Exploded

e have an incredible, diverse board. ey’re humble yet arguably some of the sharpest people I’ve ever met. Board members have accomplished amazing things for very large companies. ey’re willing to sit on our board because they like Dave King. It’s fun to sit in meetings with people of their caliber. We respect each other highly. During a two-hour meeting a member might only have two minutes of input, but we go “WOW! at’s worth considering.”

A few years ago the board redefined our mission statement. So instead of running lots of small events we now run premium, must-attend events. It’s like running an Easter Sunday service at church as opposed to fiy-one weeks of regular Sunday services. e mission statement moved Triple Crown from a really nice, small business to a really nice business that exploded.

The real hook was shared values. . . So, one at a time, board members lined up to help us win.

343.

Dave says . . .

Lessons Learned

Hunter’s Host 1989-1991

We’re as proud of our losses as we are of our wins. We hang them on the wall, so we never forget the lessons we learned.

n 1989, cash flow was short, so we needed a way to generate revenue. I talked with guys who worked for me, and we decided that because big game hunting was a passion spot, we’d build a hunting publication as a way to keep them employed during the fall when we weren’t running events. Hunter’s Host was profitable. But aer three years, we recognized it wasn’t in our wheelhouse and learned we couldn’t be in all spaces, doing all things.

Canada 1990

nce we became profitable in 1990, we thought we could do just about anything, so we spun oﬀ slow-pitch soball and other sports into Canada.

We had lots of fun, great partners, and a good strategy. But aer we lost $70,000 we recognized our execution was poor, and we learned what works in one marketplace might not work in a totally diﬀerent marketplace.

Cramer 1993-1997

an Cramer and Chris Carrico are the two guys who started 3-on-3 basketball and soccer tournaments and the Cereal Bowl—a football event sponsored by Kellogg. In 1993, we merged them with Triple Crown and ran a new entity called “TC-Cramer,” with eight total events. We wanted to avoid the learning curve of starting new sports. Cramer and Carrico were Ernst and Young CPAs, so I was certain they were technically sound on details, paperwork, and controls. But instead of rolling out a dozen events in each sport as they’d promised, they rolled out 65 total events, so our systems, resources, even accounting couldn’t keep up. at’s what made us certifiably bankrupt in 1993. When I recognized Cramer’s culture was very different than Triple Crown’s culture, I became really cynical. I didn’t like anything or anybody and came to work pissed off every single day. By year-end ’97, as we started to tighten up Triple Crown, I knew something had to change—we’d either clean up Cramer or they’d buy us out of 3-on-3. e outcome was Cramer exited in 1997. It was a horrible exit. ey wanted $800,000 for their half, but they would only pay us $400,000 for our half. To this day I don’t get their “logic.” But that’s just the kind of guys they were. I was worn down and frustrated, and so was our board. at’s when we got out. Within 36 months, Cramer sold the business for $3.5 million; reacquired it for ten cents on the dollar; sold it and bought it back three more times; today Dan Cramer manages it. e industry has a low opinion of them, but they’re great event promoters and continue to survive in the 3-on-3 soccer space. I guess a promoter’s life never ends. As for Triple Crown, it was a very, very difficult situation. e statement I made at the bottom of their picture is simple, but it reminds us of a solid lesson learned: We merged in 3-on-3 sports to gain a partner and skip the learning curve. When you grow too fast, systems break, and cultures clash, and at 50-50 there is no resolution.

France 1993

er we acquired Cramer, one of our first moves was to expand their 3-on-3 basketball concept. So during the winter of 1992, we toured England and France and set up a series of 3-on-3 basketball tournaments in France. One of my best friends, Tom White, and his two boys went to France and set up hoops, painted courts, and stayed with the tour all year. Come to find out it was very sponsor heavy. We didn’t have a strong sponsor mix, so we lost lots of money. It was all very complex, so we hired a local French guy named Bertrand Pinyon. Bernie was very adept at French employment law. When he told us what we had to pay employees, I recognized we couldn’t even come close. We learned we’d better know what we’re getting into before we take the leap. 346.

Port Washington Legends USA Sports Rankings 1999-2002

hen the dot-com craze hit in the ’90s, Managed Business Solutions was our technical partner. ey did most of the back work for Hewlett-Packard, so they were very high end. One thing led to another, and between the two of us and a few others we put together over $1 million and started a dot-com company.

We ran websites for teams and put together a ranking service. It was a crazy, wild time, and like other dot-coms we rode the wave of enthusiasm and were certain we were on to something bigger and faster than we could even imagine. But we soon learned Triple Crown was not invincible. Our dot-com bubble burst right along with thousands of other dot-com crazies.

The Yard 2002-2014

n 2002, we went down the path of the academy model and purchased 70 percent interest in a building and business in Denver that trained athletes. We thought the event business was very similar to the training business. So we went about assuming debt on a building that was appraised at over $2.4 million. But when we had it reappraised the number came in at $1.3 million, which le us upside down $1 million plus. e story doesn’t get any prettier: Teams trained at the Yard during the day, in our facility at night, and played in weekend events. But our business models were miles apart. We tried a million diﬀerent ways to make their mix lucrative within ours. Keri even spent a year of his life at the Yard. But we never made it work. Twelve years and a few days later we sold everything for a robust $585,408. Even though the Yard was the single worst financial decision we ever made—and we’ve made our share of poor ones—that was the happiest day of our life. We learned training academies are not for us.

“We will go after niche markets that will BLOW. YOUR. MIND.” —Keri King

New Storyboard Succession Plan Dave says . . .

eople are scared of lots of things. But me? I’m scared of myself. Why? I get myself into spots that aren’t easy to get out of. As I prepared to transition out of the role of Triple Crown’s CEO, I worried that my bold past actions might aﬀect Triple Crown negatively. People will laugh when I say that I “over planned” to combat my fear, but I did. I over planned to make sure 36 years of hard work didn’t go down the tubes and take others’ livelihoods with it. I wasn’t in this alone. My family and I developed a succession plan. A succession plan is, hands down, the single most important factor in keeping Triple Crown and the King family viable as leadership passes from me to Keri. Ours began in 2007 when the family gathered aer Harvard and talked our way through two questions: Is the business sustainable when we restructure? Is the family sustainable when we restructure the business? Over the next ten years, via our family council, we walked around transition traps and weighed our questions against a strategy. Ours is a “what” strategy: What makes sense for the family? What makes sense for Triple Crown’s employees? We thought about it, talked about it, revisited it, made changes, added new features, and improved it. 352.

Trifecta

hen, to no one’s surprise, I crystalized our documentation and transferred it to a spreadsheet. From the data we created a narrative booklet that includes literal tools. en I took a step back and said, “Wait a minute. Is this right? What is right?” With that we decided to measure our plan against a trifecta of family business best-practice experts. First up was Harvard, where we presented our plan to the world’s top professors and thirteen international, multigenerational families as a real-world case study. Our documentation stood the test of time. First checkmark. Next up was to walk it through diverse sessions presented by world-class family business advisors at Family Firm Institute’s (FFI) international conference. ey examined it from every angle and raked me over the coals. e last evening, during a seven-advisor roundtable, we discussed potential future improvements. We’ll see how that plays out. For now, FFI’s advisors give us a thumb’s up. Second checkmark. e experts taught me that transition’s number one problem is the departing CEO. If the company’s current leader doesn’t move forward to meaningful activities, they’ll hang around, mettle, and “save the day.” And that throws oﬀ new executive management. So I wrote my dream employment contract and presented it to the final leg of our trifecta, Triple Crown’s Board of Directors. is team of smart, experienced, international business owners supported it unanimously. ird checkmark.

As an adjunct to my formal contract—a contract that specifies I have no decision-making authority—I wrote Ten Rules for Dave:

The experts taught me that transition’s number one problem is the departing CEO.

1. I intend to find and be a part of ideas bigger than me. 2. I intend to relentlessly keep creating events. It is in my blood, my heart, my true soul. 3. I intend to stay coaching kids of any age and help them get more from themselves than they believe is there. 4. I intend to keep learning from you, from the Harvard’s of the world, and the everyday plumber. 5. I intend to be proud of all of you and TC and what is next for this family of people. 6. I intend to build new spreadsheets. Wow, why do I love them so? 7. I intend to grow green ballfield grass in Mexico, at TC, and at home, and cut it. 8. I intend to love my wife, my family, our employees, my friends, my players, and life. 9. I intend to pray for direction and for safety for others. 10. And I intend to challenge myself and those around me to take chances and find possibilities.

353.

Hopes

’ve had three mentors—my dad, my mom, and my wife. ey helped me through everything we’ve accomplished, including setting the stage for becoming a leader in women’s sports. But it’s time for me to write a new storyboard. When I’m no longer around, I hope we’re remembered respectfully. I hope Triple Crown’s memories are honored—not memories of Dave King, but memories of the amazing things we accomplished as a collective group of dedicated people.

Triple Crown might become larger or it might dial back and become smaller. at, honestly, doesn’t matter to me. But it does matter that Triple Crown continues to be a place where our values stick and, when need be, new values are added. I hope people continue to treat each other and their families well, enjoy the work day, and put out good products they’re proud of. People ask, “Will your grandkids eventually lead Triple Crown?” I answer, “Will three generations follow the same dream?” I don’t know. I do know I’ll never place the leadership burden on them. TC’s footprint is much larger than the one its founders formed. I hope the next generation of Triple Crown employees believes the challenges in front of them are theirs, not mine. I’m moving on to what’s next. Aer 36 years at the helm of a compelling and compassionate enterprise I look forward to supporting, cheering, and advising when you ask me to. Your growth as people is to be commended and thanked. It mattered every single day. My competency was challenged many times, but your unconditional belief and support in me made me push forward over and over. You got me back in school (swore it was over) and loving what learning means. You got me to think and rethink ideas that come from a brain that cannot stop thinking about what is next. You made me a better me most every day. You made me figure out good things about my values and how to make them the core of this company’s work day. And you helped me chase away my bad ones. And, yes, I need to patch up some friendships that being CEO may have cost me along the way. Going forward as chairman of the board, coach, event director, and owner of TCS I’m very proud to continue in this fashion and be part of what you will accomplish in the future. Finally to Keri King, Triple Crown’s new CEO: You’ll face new challenges every day. But you are ready to give Triple Crown the energy it needs to line up and win. I’m proud of you, son. It’s your turn to create a new storyboard.

Career Path Keri says . . .

Boys’ Baseball

didn’t start my career path with the intention of becoming Triple Crown’s CEO. I didn’t even want to work in the business. But when I look back, everything fits together and gets me to where I am today.

I played soccer and basketball when I was a kid. But my real love was boys’ baseball—a game I played all the way through college. I ended up attending two diﬀerent colleges: Northeastern Junior College, in Sterling, Colorado and Flagler College, in Saint Augustine, Florida, both on partial baseball scholarships. It was a very cool, really big deal for a kid from Colorado’s foothills ending up in a Florida beach community. But my path to get there was far from straight. Triple Crown started dabbling in boys’ baseball in the mid-’90s, and eventually came across the opportunity to get into college ball. Well, Dad needed a field to play on and because he had a relationship with Flagler’s coach, he set up a time for me to tryout.

356.

Keri King A kid from Coloradoâ€™s foothills

The Tryout

ryouts are brutal. No matter what time slot you draw, you wake up early and are anxious. en you’re put on a field with multiple athletes all going for the same thing. Typically there’s a supply and demand problem— thirty athletes might be vying for fieen openings. So you look around and know that half will be cut.

It’s a pressure-filled atmosphere that, frankly, set me up to perform poorly. When I was growing up, I’d be cut from teams just because I couldn’t perform in tryouts. So when I was thirteen, I spent some time in Joplin, Missouri at a boys’ baseball camp, and turned the corner around handling tryout stress. Anyway, my junior year of high school Dad arranged for me to tryout at Flagler. e coach said, even if I didn’t play right away, I was good enough to make the team and play second base. Dad was happy; I was happy . . . until I sent in my application.

Rejected

was rejected! Yep. is future Flagler Saints’ baseball superstar was turned down flat. My high school academic performance was subpar, even for Flagler’s bottom-of-the-barrel entry requirements. Accepted students had to have a 3.5 high school GPA, and mine came in lower.

My only choice was to go to junior college. I wasn’t particularly happy, but I got my GPA up to 3.6, and at the end of two years I was an even better baseball player and mature enough to take on a full four-year college program. My college “major” was baseball, with a sideline of business administration and a minor in Spanish. I didn’t care about getting an education. But I did care about baseball, so I crammed enough to avoid getting Cs in any of my classes—a C would keep me oﬀ the field. I probably learned the most in nutrition and Spanish, but other than that I retained very little.

Lived on the Edge

er I graduated college I decided to pursue my Spanish studies by immersing myself in Spain. So I moved first to Salamanca and then to Granada, where I studied at Don Quixote. My plan was to return to St. Augustine and pick up my former job as a bellman at the Casa Monica—a boutique hotel where I was paid handsomely in tips. Plus I was dating a girl back in St. Augustine and wanted to be with her. Shortly before I was due to return to the States in 2002, Mom, Dad, Kasey, and Kelly came for a visit. We were in Granada, touring an old Moroccan castle, when Dad took me aside and offered me a job as a Triple Crown event coordinator. Well, starting in 1989, I’d worked at Triple Crown performing down-in-the-trenches jobs: gate keeper, weekend event coordinator, warehouse worker, batting cage coin operator—the list went on. Unlike my brother, who was fired a dozen times, I was never fired. But, then, I was the kid who didn’t get caught. I generally did a good job at whatever I was hired to do in the workplace. But, truthfully, when I was in my 20s, I was not always an exemplary employee when it came to evening behaviors. By then, I was legal to go to the bar. And I did. And I had fun. But I still got up at 6 a.m., showed up, and worked hard. Dad always said, “If you intend to burn the candle at both ends, you better not blow it out in the morning.” I took that to heart. Back in the day, partying behind the scenes, including lots of time at the bar, was part of our culture. I have a litany of fun memories and stories about wild adventures and nights out on the town with our operations staff. at mentality has shied its way out of our culture. Today we frown on going out and partying late at night. We are a much more professional organization. Aer all, we charge high prices for our events, and our customers expect lots out of us. If we aren’t sharp and effective—if we don’t blow past their expectations—we’re not doing our jobs. The entire management team works hard to bring appreciation and acknowledgement of hard work into our 360.

workplace. Instead of doing this behind the scenes in a private ceremony, we intend to recognize our people and their achievements professionally, in the public light. I love where we are today. And, like Dad, I love coaching. Anyway, when it came to throwing parties at our house when Mom and Dad were away, I was in. e thing is I looked like the good kid. But everybody, except Mom and Dad, knew I lived on the edge. I was not the model son; I was not the model student. ere were many ways I disobeyed, but unlike my brother and sister, my disobedience was always on the periphery and hard to spot. I knew the company well and wasn’t interested in working full-time until Dad said I could work remotely from Florida.

Training and Development

riple Crown’s training and development program was far from robust. My first supervisor, Sean Hardy, handed me a stapled together, 11-by-17-inch set of papers and an 18-inch wooden ruler and said, “is is our database.” My job was to align the ruler under each customer’s name, address, and phone number and call them to communicate the twelve events I was producing in over six states in the United States. Each time I got through to someone, they got a checkmark, I wrote “LM,” for le message in the margin, and moved on to the next person on my list. My first event was in April 2003 in Euclid, Ohio. I guess Sean decided I came from a more informed background than most new hires because he le me to figure everything out on my own. I did. But it would have been very beneficial to understand at least the formatting, scheduling, and communication behaviors.

Next Thirty Years

hat job lasted until 2010. en in 2011, I shied to website manager; in 2014, I shied to COO; and on November 3, 2017 Dad appointed me CEO of Triple Crown Sports. And that’s where I intend to stay for at least the next thirty years.

Adams and King families, Spain, 2002

Core Product Keri says . . .

BLOW. YOUR. MIND.

ad, Mom, and Triple Crown employees worked their butts oﬀ to make Triple Crown what it is today. I’m proud of that heritage. I was especially proud the day Dad won the Keli McGregor Service Leadership award.

I was born to bring people together. It’s my passion. I intend to use my passion, along with my experience and credentials, to steward our employees’ hard work, and as Dad says, “Move it forward.” Sports are our core product. We do sports better than anyone. Our competition runs good events, but Triple Crown runs grand events. Our events are so sticky, people return year aer year. Certainly I will honor our 36year-old tradition. But it won’t remain static. I intend to grow our sports mix to ten . . . fieen . . . twenty diﬀerent sports. I intend to add new spin events that stay true to our innovative spirit.

Snippy

riple Crown’s future will include more than sports. It will expand to wild and radical festivals. For instance, Snippy . . .

My great-grandparents, Coley and Agnes King, along with their twelve kids and the family horse, Snippy, lived on a homestead property in Southern Colorado’s San Luis Valley. Snippy was owned by Berle and Nellie King Lewis, one of their children and her husband, but they were keeping him on the ranch. During a particularly hot, dry spell Snippy didn’t come home for water for three days. Strange. It was time to search. Hours later they found poor Snippy. His head, body, and bones were intact. But his neck had been cleanly cauterized. His flesh and organs were gone, but there was no blood anywhere. ey looked closer, but couldn’t find footprints leading to or from the crime scene. ey did see a strange green substance circulating around Skippy’s body. Naturally, they were a “tad” freaked out. Give the number of recent UFO sightings in the area, my great-aunt Nellie contacted Colorado State University’s extraterrestrial experts. Scientists, members of project Blue Book, local media and law enforcement personnel, and UFO aficionados around the world conducted the largest investigation since the Roswell incident. ey couldn’t prove a thing, but to this day, Snippy’s preserved body is on display at CSU, and his story still intrigues thousands of extraterrestrial enthusiasts. Does Snippy have anything to do with sports? No. But he has everything to do with bringing people together. UFO fans eat this up. And if they’re willing to pay, we can spark excitement with a festival centered on the King family’s very own Snippy.

362.

King family, 11th Annual Breakfast of Champions, Dave King recipient of Keli McGregor Service Leadership Award

TCS’s new CEO, Keri King, partners with Florida United Lacrosse and adds lacrosse to Triple Crown’s sports mix.

Founders’ Spirit

nippy is just a start. ere are thousands of niche markets outside of sports—niche markets that will BLOW. YOUR. MIND. And we intend to go aer them.

As Dad says, I’m responsible for creating a new storyboard. Sure it will showcase new products and services and maybe even spin oﬀ into a second company. I’ll challenge employees to go beyond what was to what can be. I’ll provide feedback. ey’ll stretch, grow, and innovate.

But I’ll never erase our founders’ spirit. We will continue to live and breathe our values. We will continue to oﬀer up excitement. Employees will continue to love coming to work every day. And we will continue to bring people together—coming together is as old as yesterday and as new as today. It’s the force that will push Triple Crown into a long-term future.

David and Annette King Life Partners Founders Triple Crown Sports

“Triple Crown’s Hall of Fame is a badge of honor.” —Kirk Gentry

Hall of Fame Bio’s-2019 Induction

Sean Hardy (1988-): Always a doer and a charger, Sean began employment with Triple Crown as a high school student making phone calls at night in the late 1980’s and evolved to our test camp producer in baseball with Mickey Owen. He was instrumental in building our initial baseball series with Roland Rivera and later took over the division and all of the sports in early 2000’s. Sean gave his heart and soul to produce and built great baseball events. In 2007 he played a key role in rolling out our lodging division. In 2015 he took over volleyball and built the most competitive event in the US in Club Girls with the NIT. Brent Amick (1992-): A student of the facts and back ground work, Brent did the initial due diligence on our first acquisition of Cramer Sports for 3v3 basketball and soccer and youth tackle football in 1992. He was asked to go back to the lab and figure out how to enter college women’s basketball. Which he quickly found a gender equity opening to build a Preseason Women’s NIT in D1 Basketball. e event is in its 25th year and has a counter part that followed in the also highly successful Post Season NIT for Women. Aer investigating destination tournaments in Mexico, he built the first Men’s and Women’s Cancun Challenge. All these events are going today. He investigated numerous other collegiate events. Debbie Evans (1996-): TC’s accounting systems had broken and were being rebuilt by outside consultants when Debbie arrived in 1996. She remained and helped build the backend accounting tools that manage the company today. All employees, both full time and season counted on her to get their checks ready and pay their bills, as we were known as the company that paid-on time if not early. She helped build the early HR models for ESOP, 401-k, health insurance and the majority of the early benefits plans for the company.

Sally Arnold (1997-): Taking over a robust travel division that was a full agency in 1997, Sally lead it into the internet future. She took over the early management of Cancun College Team Travel and then began a 10-year journey in merchandise management. Always a friendly face, a passionate TC supporter and a relentless worker, she leads a behind the scenes team of weekend warriors that branded the face of TC in America. She helped build the systems we use today to manage the North American reach of TC’s event branding and merchandise. Harold Moore (1999-): Starting his career with Triple Crown in his 70’s, Harold’s amazing work ethic and discipline at events allowed Dave King to step out of National Tournament merchandise management with Harold taking over in 2004. Harold and his son Harlan built the still going Missouri/Kansas baseball franchise and played a key role in operations of many top events. He has gone on the work into his 90’s with Triple Crown becoming a mentor and example for many of what passion, kindness and hard work mean for a company.

SCOUTING REPORT

“Teamwork allows everyday people to produce exceptional results.” —Judith Kolva

Dave King—Coach—you devote your life to helping people become better than they ever thought they could be. In turn, they joined your team and worked faithfully and tirelessly to accomplish what no other grassroots sports organization ever did. Build a Better Tournament preserves and honors that journey. ank you for trusting me to be your storyteller. Annette King, thank you for being you—a model of what it means to treasure family. Keri King, it was an honor to be present the day you were appointed CEO of Triple Crown Sports. I wish you all the best as you honor TC’s heritage alongside creating your own storyboard of new events that will Blow. Your. Mind. ank you for supporting Build a Better Tournament. Storytellers, thank you for your time and heartfelt stories that honor and showcase TC’s legacy—a unique legacy that proves how a small company that began in a tiny Colorado mountain town can thrive on a foundation of values and mature into an international organization. Marion Johnson, you are a designer and business partner extraordinaire. Your creativity and commitment are unsurpassed. ank you for bringing Build a Better Tournament to life through caring, compelling design. I’m blessed and proud to have you on my team. Jason Leidy, thank you for shooting over 400 images that preserve Triple Crown’s history. Patty Harsh and Andy Hansen, thank you for contributing photos from personal and TCS archives. Dee Moustakas, thank you for your eagle-eyed proofreading skills. Chuck Schwabe, my best friend, husband, and business partner, thank you for your endless patience. ank you for supporting my quest to be the best personal historian on the planet. I love you to the moon and back. You are my person.

CREDITS ©Triple Crown Sports-1982-2018 . . . Build a Better Tournament, assigned to David King, Triple Crown Sports, 2018 All rights reserved. No part of this document may be reproduced in any form or by any means electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise without prior written permission of David King, Triple Crown Sports. Storyteller and Producer: Judith Kolva, Ph.D. Legacies In Ink, LLC www.LegaciesInk.com Judith@LegaciesInk.com 954.856.6646 Designer: Marion Johnson e Memory Works, LLC www.memoryworksPublishing.com marion@memoryworkspublishing.com 928.284.0222 Family photos, TCS historic photos, documents, and memorabilia (images) are courtesy of David King and Triple Crown Sports. Rights to reproduce all images in Triple Crown Sports1982-2018 . . . Build a Better Tournament were granted and confirmed by David King. Historical photographs were obtained through public domain. Permission for the August 31, 1987 BusinessWeek cover, found on page 85 of Triple Crown Sports 1982-2018: Build a Better Tournament, granted by e YGS Group, located in York, PA. Ancestral data was obtained primarily from derivative (secondary) sources as opposed to original sources and approved by David King.

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