For Steve.

This wasn’t the email I planned to send today.

I just found out my good friend Steve Sims passed away.

He wasn’t just a contact in my phone. He was a friend. We had countless conversations. Long calls, real talks that always ended with a challenge. He made me better every single time. He moved in rooms with people like Elon Musk and Richard Branson, but he never cared about status. He cared about substance. About making things happen. About helping people dream bigger than they thought they were allowed to.

His son Henry is also a good friend of mine. We’ve vacationed around the world together, snowboarding in Austria, eating our way through Lisbon, late nights that always turned into deeper conversations about life, business, and legacy. That’s the kind of impact Steve had. His values didn’t just live in him. They live in his family.

We met up in London not long ago. That conversation flipped a switch in me. One sentence from him changed the direction of my life. I wouldn’t be doing what I’m doing now without it.

So today, I’m putting the marketing aside. These are three lessons Steve taught me. They aren’t tactics. They’re truth. I hope they inspire you like they did me.

1. Bet on yourself. No one else will.

Steve didn’t wait for approval. He didn’t need a green light. He trusted his gut, moved with certainty, and forced the world to adjust.

When you realise no one is going to save you and you can’t outsource belief, you see you are the only cheerleader left.

Most people are waiting to be discovered. Steve just decided to be undeniable.

2. Go for stupid.

This wasn’t branding or a book title. It was how he lived. If your idea didn’t scare you or sound ridiculous to other people, he’d tell you it was too small.

He’d ask, “What’s a number you’d be scared to ask for?” Then he’d make you say it. And then he’d push you to go do it.

Steve opened impossible doors because he had the nerve to knock on them then kick them in. That’s who he was.

3. Life isn’t meant to be preserved. It’s meant to be lived.

Steve rode superbikes into his 50s. Not to prove anything. To feel alive. It was a true passion. He chased adrenaline and joy. He wasn’t afraid to take risks. He was afraid of wasting time. It’s a reminder to live every moment and not wait for the magic of someday. I remember the Tony Robbins phrase “the road to someday leads to a town called nowhere”.

He wasn’t playing for comfort. He was playing for legacy.

It still doesn’t feel real and will take some time to process.

But Steve didn’t live quietly, and he didn’t leave quietly either. He left a wake. He left a standard. He left people like me better than he found them.

He made me sharper. Bolder. Clearer. I’ll carry that.

Rest easy, brother.

You mattered.

Bo