American Magazine: November 2013

storytellers to sell products and elevate the
brand,” he says, sounding very much like
a man who paid attention in class—and at
home. Kuehl’s father, Philip, was a business
professor at the University of Maryland.
“He felt football was a great get-in-thedoor
thing, but when people are looking to
hire somebody, they’re looking to see your
value,” Kuehl says. “There are 1,800 active NFL
players, and we’ve got 8,000 to 9,000 retired
players around the country. That’s a pretty
select group, but you want real select? Get your
degree, show people outside of the sport that
this guy is serious about being a contributor.
Education is a long-term investment that
shows people you’re committed to learning,
you’re committed to applying yourself, you’re
committed to improving yourself. Those
are things that, in my opinion, leaders of
companies are interested in.”
Growing up, Kuehl wasn’t a Tiger- or
LeBron-like prodigy, but he did possess
two attributes that can’t be coached: size
and desire. As a high school freshman, the
205-pound Kuehl began playing running back,
and by the time he graduated, he was a 6-foot-
4-inch, 225-pound defensive lineman.
It wasn’t until after his junior year at
the University of Virginia that Kuehl began
thinking about the NFL. Although he went
undrafted, he clawed his way onto the San
Francisco 49ers practice squad following
an impressive training camp. Kuehl was no
dummy; he knew his spot on a NFL roster
always would be precarious at
best. Somehow he had to set
himself apart. Long snapping,
which he picked up in college,
was his differentiator.
“You realize quickly that
in football there’s a reason
the average career is three
years long,” he says. “They’re
constantly bringing in players that are younger
and healthier. As my skills on defense started
to deteriorate—I wasn’t that good to begin with
from a professional perspective—snapping kept
me in the league. I probably would have had a
five-year career instead of 12.”
After five surgeries and a string of sixfigure
minimum contracts (and at least one
significantly meatier one), Kuehl retired in
2008. Armed with his MBA, he was prepared.
“A lot of guys will open a bar with their
name on it, or they’ll do camps,” Kuehl says of
20- and 30-something NFL retirees. “That’s all
fleeting. At the end of the day, unless you’re a
Hall of Fame-level player, when you retire no
one cares. That’s not a negative statement—
that’s reality. Education is the thing that’s going
to pay off in the long run. Yeah, you may not
have a bar that you can take your friends to.
That’s fine—most bars fail.”
During the spring and summer, Kuehl
would supplement his studies and workouts by
shadowing business leaders.
“I made it my mission to make sure I was
constantly building relationships in the offseason,”
he says. “Everyone thinks athletes get
their asses kissed all the time, so I’d flip that. I’d
say, ‘I’d love to come down to your office and
take you to lunch.’ I picked five or six people
and developed deep relationships with them.”
One was Kevin Plank, Under Armour’s
founder and CEO, whom he met at a sports
business symposium in 2003.
“The ability to project beyond one’s playing
career can be a rare trait among athletes.
Beginning with our earliest conversations,
Ryan displayed a genuine curiosity in
understanding the business side of sports
marketing and athlete management,” Plank
says. “He continued to follow our company’s
progress and to educate himself about our
newest products and innovations. There
was an authentic thirst for knowledge and
information that really struck me. The
underlying implication was that Ryan was
deeply committed to building a successful life
for himself after football, and he was starting to
outline that road map for
his next career.”
“AT THE END OF
THE DAY, UNLESS
YOU’RE A HALL OF
FAME–LEVEL PLAYER,
WHEN YOU RETIRE
NO ONE CARES.”
Gary Ford, one of
his professors at Kogod,
also isn’t surprised by
Kuehl’s success in the
corporate world.
“Any athlete has to
be committed to their
sport and spend a lot of time practicing and
suffering,” he says. “I think that discipline,
and the experience of working with others for
a common good, helps in business. Once he
started [at Kogod], he wasn’t going to give up,
because he doesn’t quit.”
Kuehl’s office, located near Plank’s in the
restored former Proctor and Gamble complex
on the south Baltimore waterfront, is sparsely
decorated. Pictures of Baltimore Ravens’ greats
Ray Lewis and Terrell Suggs hang above a
dry-erase board. A pink cleat autographed by
members of the Kansas City Royals, for whom
Under Armour designed the special Mother’s
Day shoe, and a photo from the Michael Phelps
Foundation Golf Classic sit on a cabinet, along
with other mementos. In a corner stands a
life-sized cardboard cutout of him in his Giants
uniform that his Under Armour team had made
as a gag gift for his 40th birthday.
It’s one of the only reminders of his old life
that he keeps around. Even his Super Bowl ring
sits in the T-shirt drawer of his dresser at home,
its 1.5 carats of sparkly, white diamonds rarely
seeing the light of day. To Kuehl it represents
the past, not the future, and that’s a direction in
which he doesn’t waste time looking.
“I’m proud of my career, but I don’t think
about playing anymore,” he says. “We’re
chasing some very aggressive goals at Under
Armour. There’s no time to think about
anything but the present.”
LET’S TALK #AMERICANMAG 33