This column is dedicated to Americans who know peace is preserved by strength, families matter, borders matter, and leadership doesn’t magically shut off just because someone uncorks prosecco and yells, “Happy New Year.” (Or because the ball drops and suddenly everyone’s an expert on resolutions that last about as long as a snowman in Miami.)
(Best enjoyed with a properly built Col Mike Ford Old Fashioned, a Deployment Freedom Cigar, and the calm assurance that—somewhere—an adult is still in charge. If the adult’s on vacation, at least the cigar won’t let you down.)
Cold-Humor Opener — New Year, Same World
New Year’s week is supposed to be reflective. Quiet. Restorative. A “reset.”
That fantasy lasts until about 12:01 a.m., when reality clocks back in without asking permission—or even offering a courtesy call.
While half the country was promising to “eat cleaner” (translation: salads until January 3rd) and the other half was Googling “how bad is champagne reflux” (spoiler: it’s worse than your uncle’s post-dinner stories), the world stayed exactly as it is: competitive, dangerous, and unimpressed by intentions.
I rang in the New Year properly—family close, cigar lit, MB Roland bourbon without apology. A Deployment Freedom Cigar burned clean and steady. The kind of cigar that doesn’t rush you, doesn’t crack under pressure, and doesn’t pretend to be something it isn’t. Refreshing qualities these days. (Unlike politicians who flip-flop more than a fish on a dock.)
On the bar: an Old Fashioned built strong enough to survive a federal holiday—or a heated family debate over Monopoly.
Behind the scenes, the same applied nationally. While some leaders were “unavailable until Monday,” others were golfing, calling, sanctioning, planning, and—when required—executing. Quietly. Methodically. Without hashtags. (Because real power doesn’t need likes to validate it.)
That contrast—between comfort and responsibility—is your business lesson of the week. So, stretch out. Take a practice swing. Let’s tee it up. (And try not to hook it into the neighbor’s yard.)
WEEKEND LESSONS TEED UP
(December 31, 2025 – January 4, 2026)
Lesson 1 — Real Leaders Don’t Take Symbolic Holidays
(New Year’s Eve & New Year’s Day)
December 31 closed the books on one year and immediately opened the ledger on the next. While the country debated whether it was acceptable to start drinking at noon (it is, as long as you’re not operating heavy machinery—or resolutions), the administration tightened sanctions on oil traders propping up Venezuela’s narco-regime. To the casual observer, it looked like paperwork. To Caracas, it felt like oxygen getting turned down one click at a time—or like trying to inflate a balloon with a pinhole.
Trump spent New Year’s Eve at Mar-a-Lago—not hiding, not hibernating. Advisors nearby. Phones active. Family present. You don’t run anything serious by “logging off.” (That’s for social media influencers, not world leaders.)
January 1 arrived with no public events, but the press pool was live early. That’s Washington code for: something might happen—stay awake. (Or stock up on energy drinks.)
Business Translation: The owner doesn’t shut down operations because there’s a banner that says Happy New Year. (Banners don’t pay the bills.)
Golf Translation: You still count the stroke, even if it’s New Year’s Day. (No “holiday do-overs” in the rulebook.)
Leadership Takeaway: Celebration is healthy. Disengagement is expensive. (Like ordering delivery on New Year’s—convenient, but the fees add up.)
Lesson 2 — Family Is a Force Multiplier
(January 1–2)
The Trump family continues to operate less like decorative china and more like a functional toolset. (The kind that fixes problems instead of gathering dust.)
Donald Trump Jr. and Eric Trump stayed closely involved as trusted advisers—particularly on energy and national security. Lara Trump, fresh off a year-end episode of My View, kept messaging tight and morale high heading into 2026. (Because a good message is like a good putt—straight and true.)
Eric and Lara arriving early for New Year’s at Mar-a-Lago wasn’t optics—it was continuity. Strong organizations don’t scatter leadership during pressure moments. (Unless it’s a surprise party, but even then, have a backup plan.)
That hit home for me personally. Over Christmas, my own kids put in their order for the Trump T1 phone as a gift. Not because it’s gold (though that helps), but because backing American-built tech beats funding overseas supply chains that disappear the moment things get tense. (Like that one CCP built toy you ordered online that never shows up.)
Golf Translation: You don’t invite someone into your foursome if they lie about their handicap—and you definitely don’t hand them the scorecard. (That’s a recipe for “creative accounting.”)
Leadership Takeaway: Trust accelerates execution. Family done right multiplies it. (And divides the chores fairly.)
Lesson 3 — Strength Can Be Quiet… Until It Isn’t
(January 3)
January 3 ended any illusion that the holiday stretch meant hesitation. Operation Absolute Resolve was executed cleanly. U.S. forces struck Caracas. Nicolás Maduro and Cilia Flores were captured. No leaks. No “sources familiar with the matter.” Just results. (Like ordering takeout and it arrives hot—miracles do happen.)
Trump announced it later that day from Mar-a-Lago—measured, calm, unmistakable. The message was simple: consequences still exist. (And they’re not optional add-ons.)
Here’s where it got even more straightforward. In the follow-up press conference alongside Secretary of State Marco Rubio, Secretary of War Pete Hegseth, and Air Force Gen. Dan Caine (raising Cain in all the right ways), Hegseth delivered the bluntest summary possible: “Maduro had his chance… He FAFO.” (That’s “effed around and found out,” for anyone keeping score at home.) No flowery diplomacy, no hedging—just pure, unfiltered reality. The kind of line that lands harder than a driver off the tee and reminds everyone: don’t test strength unless you’re ready for the divot.
At the same time, the administration marked historic anniversaries—Emancipation, Princeton—because leaders who understand history tend to avoid repeating the dumb parts. (Like that one fashion trend from the ’80s.)
Here’s a glimpse of the moment—the team laying it out plainly, no drama, just results:
Business Translation: The biggest moves are rarely preceded by motivational posters. (Posters don’t close deals.)
Golf Translation: You don’t fist-pump until the ball drops. (Premature celebration is a hazard—unless you just dropped the “FAFO” line of the year.)
Leadership Takeaway: Competence doesn’t need applause. (But a well-timed “FAFO” gets the point across faster than any speech.)
Lesson 4 — Vision Extends Beyond the Fairway
(January 4)
Trump wrapped up the holiday stretch at his West Palm Beach golf club—where golf is less recreation and more diagnostic exam. (Revealing more truths than a polygraph.)
Golf tells you who someone is when there’s time between shots. Patience. Temperament. Honesty. You learn more over 18 holes than in 18 meetings. (And with better scenery.)
On the flight back to Washington, Trump renewed interest in Greenland—not as a cocktail-napkin joke, but as a serious security discussion. Geography still matters. Resources still matter. Adults still think long-term. (Unlike fad diets that promise eternal youth.)
Meanwhile, executive actions touched everything from federal pay adjustments for law enforcement to national security reviews of foreign acquisitions. (Because details matter, even in fine print.)
Business Translation: If your strategy ends at next quarter, someone else owns your future. (And they might not invite you to the party.)
Leadership Takeaway: Vision doesn’t take weekends off. (But it does enjoy a good view.)
Golf Sidebar — Who’s Actually in the Foursome
Golf partners tell you more than press conferences ever will. During the December 31–January 4 stretch, the scorecards weren’t public—but the pattern was familiar. When Trump plays, it’s rarely casual, and never accidental. (It’s like chess, but with carts.)
He’s recently been joined by Rory McIlroy, where discussions reportedly drifted from fairways to the PGA–LIV merger—because nothing says “relaxed round” like reshaping professional golf between tee shots. (Multitasking at its finest.)
Senator Lindsey Graham remains a regular presence as well. At this point, Graham may have more rounds logged with Trump than some cabinet members have meetings. That’s not recreation—that’s strategy with spikes. (And probably some friendly wagers.)
Golf Translation: You don’t invite someone into your group unless they can keep up—intellectually and off the tee. (Slow play is unforgivable.)
Administrative Actions — Even the Courses Get Managed
While most Americans were arguing over whose turn it was to shovel the driveway, the administration quietly reminded everyone that golf—like everything else—still involves ownership and accountability. (No free rides on the cart path.)
On December 31, the Trump administration terminated the National Links Trust lease overseeing three D.C. municipal courses. No drama. No ribbon-cutting. Just a reminder that public assets still require adult supervision. (Because neglect turns fairways into jungles.)
By late 2025, it was also confirmed that Trump properties would host major 2026 tournaments, including the Cadillac Championship at Trump National Doral. Because when you believe in something, you don’t outsource it—you host it. (And make sure the bunkers are raked.)
Golf Translation: If you’re going to put your name on the course, you’d better be willing to maintain the greens. (Or hire a really good groundskeeper.)
One-Liners from the Tee Box (Because Humor Still Counts)
“Some people golf to relax. Others golf to negotiate mergers.” (Why not both?) “If your playing partner is Rory McIlroy, it’s not a casual round—it’s a working lunch without the napkins.” (And with better views.) “Municipal golf courses, like organizations, decline fastest when no one’s keeping score.” (Scorecards don’t lie.) “Trump doesn’t just play the course—he audits it.” (With a 9-iron as his calculator.)
Bonus Lesson — Even Great Programs Can’t Outbid Chaos
(A Buckeye Reality Check)
And yes—before anyone emails me—I’m aware. My Ohio State Buckeyes took a loss to the University of Miami, and almost immediately afterward, two players hit the transfer portal. That’s not analysis. That’s timing. (Like checking your phone right after a bad date.)
As the kids say, this is the best NIL money could buy. (Or the most expensive musical chairs.)
We’ve officially reached the point where major college football resembles a minor-league NFL with marching bands. Loyalty is optional. Development is negotiable. And if things don’t go your way in the postseason, there’s always a new logo waiting—with a bigger check and fewer expectations. (And maybe a signing bonus.)
Don’t get me wrong—NIL was necessary. Long overdue. But what we have now isn’t Name, Image, and Likeness. It’s Free Agency Without Adults. (FAWA: sounds like a rejected Star Wars character.)
The irony? The only programs still preaching—and practicing—loyalty, accountability, and education first are the Service Academies. Army. Navy. Air Force. The only places left where the nation’s game still means something bigger than the stat sheet. Where your #1 NIL benefit is a degree, a commission, and a spine. (Plus, unbreakable discipline—no portal hopping there.)
That’s not nostalgia. That’s structure. (The kind that doesn’t crumble under pressure.)
This Buckeye loss—and the portal exits that followed—are just the appetizer. I’ll be digging deeper into this in an upcoming AFNN.us series on NIL, why it needs guardrails, and why college football can’t survive as a booster-funded bidding war masquerading as education. (Stay tuned—popcorn not included.)
Sports Translation: If you don’t enforce rules, don’t be shocked when everyone plays by money. (Cha-ching over team spirit.)
Leadership Takeaway: Development without loyalty is just expensive turnover. (Like a revolving door in a windstorm.)
Golf Translation — Why This Week Mattered
Cold-weather golf is honest golf. Cold hands. No galleries. No excuses. Just you, the club, and the truth. (And maybe some hand warmers.)
This New Year’s stretch wasn’t flashy. It was foundational. While some leaders vanished into comfort and commentary, real decisions were made—on energy, borders, force, technology, and alliances. (All while the rest of us were nursing hangovers.)
That’s how durable organizations operate. That’s how countries endure. (One deliberate swing at a time.)
Wrap-Up — A Proper Finish
I finished the week the same way it started: cigar lit, glass honest, family close. No gimmicks. No weak pours. No borrowed conviction. (And no regrets—unlike that extra slice of pie.)
The lesson from December 31 through January 4 is simple: America doesn’t need perfect leadership. It needs present leadership—especially when everyone else is distracted by fireworks and leftovers. (Or fantasy football recaps.)
Not in golf. Not in business. Not in national security.
So between NIL free agency, cold-weather golf, and watching Ohio State lose players faster than a hedge fund loses interns, I was reminded of one truth: systems without discipline always collapse—whether it’s a locker room, a boardroom, or a country. (Usually with a facepalm-worthy thud.)
— Chuck Cordak “Life’s too short for weak pours, weak swings, or leaders who confuse comfort with competence.” (Add weak coffee to that list—and FAFO to the list of things you don’t test.)