I just discovered Thomas Peterffy's story¹ and there's something you really need to know.

Here's a guy who walked into Wall Street in 1971 and felt like Alice in Wonderland. Nothing made sense. Every accepted practice seemed absurd. The manual processes, the inefficiencies, the complexity that served no purpose except tradition.

But here's what struck me most: That disorientation wasn't a weakness.

It was the signal.

Peterffy brought an engineer's mindset to finance. Through that lens, everything looked broken. And when everything looks broken, you have two choices.

Accept it. Or fix it.

He chose fix. Called his shot in 1971 – said he'd remove all human involvement from trading. People laughed. Called him mad. It took him 16 years to prove them wrong.

But watch what happened in between.

Within five years at Mocatta, his semi-automated approach transformed the commodity firm. Leadership wouldn't enter negotiations without him. They'd defer to his judgment even when traditional finance experts sat at the table.

Here's the pattern I see across sports: Your best staff have the ability to transcend their founding discipline. That data scientist you hired for performance analysis? They might reshape how you think about list management.

First-principles thinkers don't just solve problems in their domain. They reshape how organisations think about problems.

Eventually, Mocatta wanted status quo. Peterffy wanted expansion.

So he left with $200,000 and bought a seat on the American Stock Exchange.

And he innovated. Relentlessly.

He intercepted data feeds. Folded printouts into precise squares - IBM in his breast pocket, DuPont in his left trouser pocket. Swapped portable computers mid-session for fresh data. Created psychedelic light shows that flashed trading signals across 30-foot distances.

Every constraint became a catalyst.

Other traders watched with "fascination and growing unease."

For 16 years, they called him crazy. Too strange. Too different.

But in 1987, he built Wall Street's first fully automated trading system. The mad one had ushered in the new normal. Suddenly, everyone else looked outdated.

Years later, Peterffy had conquered automated trading. Made his fortune. Could've coasted.

Instead? He found a new obsession.

"I knew everything about market making. It wasn't interesting anymore."

So he pivoted. Not for money – for challenge. Built Interactive Brokers. 4 million customers. $700 billion in assets. 3,000 employees, mostly engineers. Took it public at $12 billion. Now worth $120 billion.

Still running on his original premise: Automate everything.

Been thinking about what this means for our industry.

We're drowning in manual processes. Coaching notes handwritten in black books. Game strategy planned but never reviewed. Performance data collected but not connected.

Maybe we need more engineers looking at our operations. More outsiders asking why things work this way. More people willing to look crazy for a decade while building the future.

The organisations that win next won't be those with the best traditions. They'll be the ones brave enough to question them.

Find your Peterffy. That person who sees absurdity where others see tradition. Back them. Give them room to build. Let them pull you into uncomfortable conversations.

And when they want to expand beyond their box? Let them.

Because ambitious people remove impediments to growth. If they can't grow with you, they'll grow without you.

Peterffy's secret? "Hard work and common sense."

That's it. See what's broken. Work relentlessly to fix it. Trust your judgment when others call you mad.

The mad ones aren't building the future.

The mad ones are clinging to the past.

Choose wisely.

1 The Making of a Market Maker - Colossus