The Champion Nobody Actually Calls

Everyone has a guy.

A mechanic, a plumber, someone who "knows a lot about roofs." Say the word "leak" out loud near a group of adults and at least one will say, "Oh, I have a guy."

Ask when they last called this guy.

Usually it's been years. Sometimes the guy moved. Sometimes the guy retired. Sometimes the guy wouldn't recognize their number if it called.

The guy is real. The relationship is theoretical.

I see the same thing in pitch prep. A founder tells me, with total confidence, "We have a champion in that group — he's into ed-tech, he'll get it." I ask what he said when they told him about the round.

Nothing. They haven't told him anything.

They found his name on a group website, saw "ed-tech" in his bio, and quietly decided he was now their person. He doesn't know this. He is not, currently, championing anything.

A champion isn't someone you've identified. It's someone who's said yes to something — even something small. Answered a question. Read a one-pager. Agreed to an intro.

The book has a line I still use: ask for money, receive advice; ask for advice, receive money. That's the whole mechanism. You don't walk up to a stranger and ask them to invest. You ask them one specific, well-informed question, and if they answer, you've started building the thing you were hoping already existed.

Most angel groups have someone whose entire job is knowing who's who — a Deal Flow Manager, an Executive Director, a founder of the group itself. That person can point you toward your actual champion, the one who exists in reality and not just in your pitch deck's contact list.

But only if you call.

The guy who knows about roofs can't help you from inside your phone's contacts. Neither can the investor you've decided, unilaterally, is on your side.

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More on finding your Champion (and the rest of what actually happens in the room) in The Pitch Deck Book.

Composite characters, invented companies. The mistakes are real; the people aren't.