John
Miranda

There’s a moment, when you’re a kid, when something on a movie screen stops you cold—not because of spectacle, but because it’s true.

For John, that moment came watching The Bad News Bears. A team of foul-mouthed Little Leaguers, a coach with a drinking problem, and an eleven-year-old girl who turns out to be the best player on the field. It wasn’t sentimental, and it didn’t try to sanitize childhood. But even as a kid, John recognized something real—the way the characters struggled, the way they pushed back, the humor they used to survive a world that didn’t make space for them.

It was the first time he understood that stories could do more than entertain. They could make you feel seen. That’s how he fell in love with movies.

Growing up in a working-class suburb in the San Francisco East Bay, it never occurred to him that making films was an option. There was no film school, no clear path, no proximity to the industry. Then, a year out of college, a friend left a job working for one of the most powerful directors in the world and thought of John: “You should come. I can see you here.” He packed his car and drove to Los Angeles.

He couldn’t have known what was waiting for him.

Over the years, John worked with Steven Spielberg, Norman Jewison, and James Mangold—three generations of directors, each one a defining force in film. John’s work spanned critically acclaimed films, major franchises, independent film, and an Academy Award-winning documentary—work grounded in something he knew firsthand: story follows character. Always.

And while film consumed him, there was always one other thing pulling at him: college football.

John’s grandfather introduced him to Notre Dame football when he was just a kid, and watching the Fighting Irish play on Saturdays became a fall ritual. Even then, he recognized how much sports and movies had in common—the characters, the stakes, the drama. Every Saturday, a thrilling new episode in college football’s most storied program.

Then, in 2021, the NCAA delivered a plot twist that would merge the worlds of college sports and storytelling like never before. A new policy went into effect giving student athletes the right to benefit from their name, image, and likeness (“NIL”)—opening the door to brand and partnership deals. The athletes who would land the biggest deals weren’t necessarily the most skilled. They were the ones who knew who they were—and knew how to tell that story.

Almost overnight, athletes found themselves competing not just against each other, but against influencers, creators, and entertainers—everyone fighting for the same audience.

Student athletes were flooding the feed, but almost none of them were doing the deeper work of figuring out who they actually were. And it showed.

Student athletes were losing ground—not to better athletes, but to better stories. John saw it clearly—in the press conferences, the postgame interviews, the social media posts that performed without connecting. These athletes had stories worth telling, but nobody in that world was doing the deeper work required to find them. What was missing was character development. The same discipline that built Hollywood.

John saw the opportunity immediately. He’d spent his whole career doing exactly that.

Nail the character, and the audience takes care of itself.

That understanding became the foundation for First Person.

From a movie theater in the East Bay to the highest levels of film, sport, and leadership—the work has always been the same: find what makes someone singular, make them unforgettable, and put them into the world.