Mike Tirico told me his secret. It wasn't talent. It wasn't luck. It was what he does on every flight home. A few years ago, I met him at a restaurant bar in Indianapolis during the Big Ten tournament. One of the biggest voices in sports. He didn't lead with his résumé. He introduced himself. He asked questions. He cared about every person in the room before anyone cared about him. Eventually, I asked him what made him great. He said after every game he calls, on the flight home, he pulls up the broadcast and watches it back. Listens to his own voice. Hunts for the misses. The dead air. The calls he wishes he could have over. Every game. Twenty-plus years in. He wasn't born world-class. He worked his way there one flight at a time. The best in any room are usually the ones still grading themselves the hardest. World-class isn't a personality. It's a habit.