In the early WatchMojo days, travel meant driving around la Belle Province. And when I did fly across North America — EDM serving as the soundtrack — it was usually to be rejected by VCs who didn’t quite understand the vision.
Yesterday, driving across Quebec with Paul van Dyk blaring, I felt an unexpected surge of emotion — the kind you don’t anticipate until memory catches up with you, when your body remembers something your mind had blocked for years.
Flights across North America. Pitch meetings. Lawyers. VC offices. Waiting rooms. Rejections.
Back in the early WatchMojo years (2006–2012), I was largely alone.
No institutional support. No ecosystem. No warm introductions.
Adding insult to injury, my former partners pursued a frivolous lawsuit using all of their new overlord News Corp / FOX resources. Each time I thought I saw a light at the end of the tunnel, it turned out to be another oncoming train. I remember VCs showing “interest,” picking my brain for hours, only to fund tech startups serving content companies. Some even invested in our content-producing competitors.
Even internally, there were moments of tension — not disloyalty, but human dynamics. Envy can exist even inside small teams.
It would have been easy to become bitter.
It would have been easy to become envious myself (especially when you see every other entrepreneur secure funding with their tech projects).
And if I’m being honest, there were moments where I could have given into envy myself, but I found ways to avoid it.
When other founders seemed to raise millions effortlessly. When competitors were celebrated. When we were dismissed.
It was human to manifest envy.
The real sin is not feeling envy. The real sin is letting it control you.
The virtue that counters envy is not denial. It is gratitude. And discipline.
Gratitude for the process. Discipline to stay focused.
Instead of resenting funded competitors, I championed them (for a rising tide lifts all boats). Instead of chasing validation, I built revenue. Instead of complaining, I doubled down on what we controlled.
And slowly, momentum shifted, especially when we made our four big bets. The rest, as they say, is history. The foreword to my third book was written by the ex-CEO of one of our early competitors.
Now fast forward to 2025–2026 and the Expos effort.
The paradox is striking.
Where WatchMojo once faced skepticism, the Expos project has received overwhelming support.
Exuberant fan base.
Compelling media interest.
Inbound investor interest.
Community championing.
Americans leaning in.
Canadians even in Ottawa, Toronto and Eastern provinces supporting.
Upstate New York and Vermont encouraging.
American, Australia, European, Mideast and Asian institutions engaging.
Ninety-nine percent encouragement.
Of course, there is still envy. There always will be.
Some elites will resent not being the ones leading it. Some will assume motives.
That is normal.
Success doesn’t eliminate envy. It redistributes it.
Here’s the paradox:
When you are small, people dismiss you. When you grow, some resent you.
In 2008, I was asking for capital. In 2026, capital is asking for time.
I am the exact same person I was then. But the seasons have changed.
Then, I wanted to make my team happy as I searched for non-existent viewers and clients.
Now, I am driven to make everyone who misses the Expos and wants them back happy. I loved the team, don’t get me wrong, but sport is not the primary motivation for me.
And here is something I’ve learned:
Success is not loud to the one building it. It is loud to the one observing it.
Envy is not about the object. It’s about comparison.
The real growth over these two decades isn’t financial. It’s internal.
In the early years, I needed validation. Now, I don’t.
That changes everything.
If you build long enough, if you survive long enough, if you manage envy instead of feeding it,
the paradox eventually works in your favor.
But only if you never let the sin become your compass.
Gratitude over resentment. Discipline over reaction. Long-term over noise.
The rest tends to follow.