Creeping across the pasture land. Got dirt on
the boots and a working hand. From the milk house
home to the auction call. These are the folks
standing strong and tall. Yeah, this is... Welcome
back to the Deep Dive. Powered by the Bullvine.
So today's Deep Dive is, it's fundamentally different.
We're sort of pulling off the main highway of
financial analysis and data trends. And we're
taking a hard turn onto this back road, one that's...
paved with grit and faith and frankly just stubborn
human persistence yeah we're not breaking down
market futures today we're not analyzing the
latest genomic data no indices no arguing about
indices nope we're telling stories three of them
three distinct paths to mastery about real farms
real people and what that word excellence, what
it really costs. And a fair warning to everyone
listening, especially if you've poured your life
into a vision that sometimes feels, I don't know,
impossible. This one hit me right in the gut.
Oh, me too. We talk a lot about the metrics of
success, but today it's about the emotional currency.
We've pulled together the threads of three incredibly
powerful stories. They're so different. So different.
We're talking about a Saskatchewan farmer, Michael
Lovitch. His hands were shaking so badly at the
biggest show in the world that he couldn't even
hold his phone after preparing for years. Right.
Then we'll get into an Ontario family, the Bosdale
operation. That waited 11 years, a full decade,
and then some for their second. Excellent cow
classification. Just think about showing up to
the barn every single day for 11 years knowing
you haven't hit that target yet. And then there's
a story of a Wisconsin daughter, Michaela McGee,
who showed the kind of courage that, well, it
changes balance sheets forever. She told her
family in an industry that's just obsessed with
getting bigger. Always bigger. To milk 200 fewer
cows, all for the sake of efficiency and for
their people. Three completely different operations.
Three totally unique conflicts. But somehow they
all converge on this one single unifying truth
they all discovered. And that truth, I hope,
really lands with you, whether you milk three
cows or 3 ,000. It's a message that says what
you believe in is more valuable than what the
system, you know, currently rewards. Okay, let's
just, let's dive into that. I think we have to
start at the moment of highest possible stakes.
Just profound, almost unbearable tension. We
need to set the scene. It's the Super Bowl of
dairy cattle. World Dairy Expo in Madison, Wisconsin.
The date is October 3rd, 2025. The whole world
is watching. This is it. This is where champions
are made, where reputations are cemented, and
where a lifetime of work can either, you know,
pay off in this spectacular way or just crash
entirely. The air is, it's electric. Exactly.
And sitting there watching the senior champion
selection unfold is Michael Lovitch of Love Home
Holsteins. Now, to really get this, you need
to know where Michael operates. Yeah, this is
key. It's a 72 -cow tie stall operation in Saskatchewan,
Canada, a place that's, and I'm quoting here,
three hours from anywhere most people have heard
of. Right. So this is not some industrial giant.
This is a focused family -scale breeder. And
this man, who is literally on the verge of making
Holstein history, is trembling. Michael is so
keyed up. So anxious, so overwhelmed by this
one moment that he cannot hold his phone steady
enough to capture what's about to happen. Can
you just picture that? Think about the paradox
of that. I mean, this is a guy who already had
the nerve to pull off a World Dairy Expo grand
champion a decade earlier, back in 2015, with
another incredible cow, Catricia. He's been there
before. He has. So if anyone should be calm,
collected, and ready for this, it should be the
guy who's already done it, who has the banner
to prove it. And that's exactly what makes the
trembling so... So powerful. It's not the shaking
of a rookie. No. It's the anxiety, the hope,
the sheer weight of knowing just how rare this
moment is and how fast it can be snatched away
from you. It's the fear of hope. He knows what
the pinnacle feels like. And that climb back
up, even for a second time, is agonizing. He's
been living and breathing this for 10 years.
And those stakes, they weren't just in the ring.
They reached all the way back to their farm in
rural Saskatchewan. His wife. Jessica. She was
back home and had given up even pretending to
eat lunch. She couldn't swallow a thing. Wow.
And their three daughters, Riata, Rennell, and
Raylan, they were all huddled around phone screens
in the school parking lot. They got special permission
to skip class for this. I love that line from
the source material. It's one of those emotional
anchors that just sticks with you. Some things
matter more than algebra. Yes. That tells you
everything, right? It tells you exactly what
kind of devotion this family has. This wasn't
just a business opportunity. This was the peak
of a family mission. But what really speaks to
that, that weathered farmer's perspective, that
deep knowledge of how quickly hope can just turn
to dust, is Michael's reaction when things started
looking good. He got tapped on the shoulder.
Right. Asked if he was happy about being pulled
into the top lineup. And he didn't allow himself
that joy. Not yet. He just said, nope, not until
we're in the final lineup. There's no sitting
down until he does his reasons and we get the
nod for first place. That. That is the voice
of someone who has seen the rug pulled out from
under them. Oh, completely. That's the voice
of deep, painful experience that knows you cannot
celebrate until the final word is spoken. He
was literally holding his breath against the
possibility of just utter devastation. protecting
his heart until the absolute last second. But
the devastation never came. The judge, Aaron
Eaton, pointed to the cow, Candy Cane, and he
delivered this quote that just, it immediately
became famous. When she came in the ring. It
was game over. Game over. And with that single
moment, the Lovitches achieved something that
just defies all modern statistics. It is truly
historic. They became the first and only breeders
in Holstein history to produce two different
World Dairy Expo Holstein Grand Champions. And
they did it from a small 72 -cow tie stall barn
in Saskatchewan. Can we just sit with that size
difference for a minute? We have to. When you
look at the scale of the operations that usually
get titles like this, I mean, the massive...
facilities, the sophisticated embryo programs,
the global marketing budgets. The Lovitch achievement
is just pure validation for the small, focused
breeder. It shows conviction, and the eye can
still beat scale and budget. It's a complete
validation of their intensely focused, low -tech,
high -conviction approach to breeding. They are
all about quality over quantity, and they prioritize
that deep, intimate knowledge of their herd over
all the statistical noise out there. And this
is where the story gets really, really good.
The origin of Candy Cane. Right. She wasn't some
genomic superstar or a highly counted embryo
package they bought for six figures. She was,
as Jessica Lovitch laughed, she was always that
cow. And every single person listening to this
knows that cow. Oh, yeah. The stubborn one. The
ornery heifer that fights you every single day.
The one that makes you question your life choices
when you're trying to move her down the alley.
She tests your patience. Daily. The Lovitch's
own daughters, who had the pick of the whole
herd. They passed her over for what they thought
were more promising animals. They actually assigned
her as a 4 -H project calf to a local town kid.
How close did they come to letting history walk
right out the door? I mean, selling the future
world grand champion as a 4 -H calf to a neighbor.
That is a nightmare scenario for a breeder. Incredibly
close. And if it wasn't for an outside voice
of experience, it would have happened. The turning
point came when Jessica's dad saw Candy Cane.
Okay. She was boarding at his place in Alberta,
and he spotted her out on pasture. And even though
she was immature, he saw the deep body, the structure,
the capacity. He saw the potential that maybe
the daily aggravation in the barn had sort of
obscured. It took an external expert eye to cut
through all that frustration. Exactly. And the
way his eyes lit up when he asked Jessica about
buying the heifer, that told her everything.
He was so impressed, he tried to buy her himself.
And that immediately signaled to Jessica that
she had to bring her home. That decision, that
gut feeling from a voice of deep experience,
it forced her hand and it saved their history.
What a lesson in trusting the eye over daily
frustration. I just find it amazing that a cow
that would become the world grand champion was
nearly sold off as a routine 4 -H project calf
just because she was a little bit difficult in
the barn. It fundamentally challenges the idea
that the best animals are always the easiest
to manage. It proves that sometimes the cattle
that test your patience the most, they're the
ones destined for history. They force you to
pay attention. And that whole idea, that conviction,
it flows directly into their breeding philosophy,
which is just fiercely independent of industry
trends. Well, when Michael was asked about modern
tools, his response was famously blunt. Genomics.
What are those? Frights! That's become their
mantra, hasn't it? But we should probably unpack
the technical gravity of that stance for our
audience. It's not just a cute quote. It's a
radical, calculated position. So what does that
mean when you're looking at a pedigree? Michael's
primary focus is cow families. Number one, he
stated it very clearly. If he doesn't like the
cow family a bull comes from, they will not use
him. It doesn't matter what the index numbers
say. Specifically, he avoids bulls that are out
of three unscored dams. And that's important.
Why? Because that depth of pedigree is the only
real insurance you have when you're focusing
on type and confirmation. Precisely. If a bull's
dam and his grand dam and his great grand dam
haven't been scored, you have zero evidence that
that bull is a consistent transmitter of functional
type. You're just relying purely on a statistical
prediction. Which is... Too much risk for someone
like him. Way too much risk. For a farmer like
Michael, who is breeding for the show ring and
functional excellence, he needs proven results,
or at least a proven lineage, not just speculation.
It's a radical rejection of the dominant industry
trend. They are trusting what they see in the
barn far, far more than what they read on a screen.
But of course, there is this profound, often
heartbreaking cost to chasing this kind of excellence.
And that's the part that brings it all back down
to earth, the cost of that banner. The post -win
reality check is, it's brutal. The morning after
this historic victory, the day after the highest
high they could possibly achieve, Jessica and
the girls were back in the tie stall barn at
5 a .m., milking the same 72 cows. The world
changes outside the barn, but inside. Inside,
the routine is eternal. And here is the painful
truth about the economics of excellence. The
Lovitches bred Holstein history twice, but neither
grand champion banner hangs on their farm. Candy
Cane's banner went to the owners in New York.
The 2015 winner, Catricia's, hangs at Milk Source
Genetics. That's the deep cut for the small breeder,
isn't it? You have to sell your best just to
keep the operation solvent. It's a necessary
choice. Sometimes you sell the cow you love the
most just to keep the lights on and keep the
whole operation going to make sure that the next
generation of great cattle can even be born.
That's the part of the story the industry doesn't
always tell. That chasing excellence often means
sacrificing the physical proof of it. But Michael
and Jessica, they've clearly made their peace
with it. They know the real legacy isn't the
physical banner. It's the love home name. That's
what will endure in the pedigrees long after
any ribbon has faded or a banner is hanging in
a different state. Breeding great cattle is its
own reward. And that name in the pedigree, that's
what truly matters. It validates their conviction.
And that legacy is already being carried forward
by the next generation, which is maybe the greatest
achievement of all. Tell us about the three daughters,
Riata, Ronell, and Raylan. They've been completely
immersed in this life. Jessica said they've been
coming to shows since they were born, sleeping
on hay bales for 14, 16 years. They know the
sacrifice. You know the exhaustion. This isn't
theoretical dairy education for them. This is
real -world commitment that they're actively
choosing. Riata, she's planning to be the farm
vet, bringing that medical expertise back. Ronell's
going to handle the cropping. focusing on the
feed side and raylan i love this showing that
incredible farm kid confidence yeah has already
declared herself the future farm manager because
she knows all the cows already that certainty
that innate knowledge of the herd they are learning
dairy in the cold the manure the exhaustion and
and the occasional terrifying high of the show
ring and yet They are choosing this life. It
speaks volumes about the conviction their parents
have instilled in them. It's a legacy built on
the eye, not the index. It is. And that intense
conviction, it leads us perfectly into our second
story. A story about a completely different kind
of excellence. One built not on a dramatic lightning
strike, but on a long, persistent, almost painful
grind. So we move from the spectacular flash
of lightning, a two -time World Dairy Expo champion.
To the profound, slow burn of patience. Yes,
let's shift our energy to Bosdale Farms in Ontario.
The Lovage story took 10 years to repeat the
magic. The Bosdale story took 11 years just to
validate the idea. And the timeline here is,
it's genuinely shocking. We should just lay it
out, because this is where the psychological
cost of dairy farming really comes into focus.
The Bos family classified their first herd in
1976. They had 90 cows in the barn, 90 cows they
believed in, and they got zero. Excellent classifications.
Zero. That's the first gut punch. They keep going.
They keep going. Four years later, November 7,
1980, they finally get their first EXCAL. Huge
milestone. Huge. Validation. You feel like you've
turned the corner. You celebrate. You feel like,
okay, here we go. The program is working. But
then, the universe just went silent. They got
their second excellent classification on July
23, 1991. 11 years. I really need our listeners
to absorb that. 11 years between their first
and second excellent classification. Most businesses
measure success in quarters. Most farms are looking
for validation year to year. This family showed
up for a full decade and then some. without visible,
measurable progress toward the standard they
had set for themselves. How do you do that? How
do you show up every day for a decade without
that visible progress? You walk into the barn,
you see those cows, you keep breeding with the
same vision, you keep paying the bills, and the
classification sheets keep coming back without
that EX grade. Late at night, you have to be
wondering if you're fooling yourself. You have
to fight that urge to quit or to change direction
entirely, you know, to chase the genomic flavor
of the month or abandon type for pure volume.
That's what makes their perseverance so profound.
They didn't quit. They didn't panic and change
direction. They just called it Tuesday and Wednesday
and the 4 ,015 days that followed. And they held
on to their initial vision. What allowed them
to hold that vision so tightly for so long? It
was a simple philosophy. Disharmingly simple.
Life is too short to milk ugly cows. Now, on
the surface, that sounds like a witty joke about
confirmation standards, right? But when you look
at the commitment it takes to live by that for
11 years without a reward, what's really underneath
that saying? It's a profound commitment to functional
type and longevity. The ugly cow is often the
one who struggles with feet and legs, has less
capacity, is harder to manage, requires more
vet intervention. So their philosophy isn't just
about aesthetics. It's about choosing to work
with animals that meet a higher standard of functional
type. Cows that bring you joy in the barn because
they're efficient and healthy and durable. That
vision was their anchor. It reflected this deep
belief in the kind of animal they were building,
even when the classification sheets the industry
squabored refused to reflect it for an entire
generation. And that relentless commitment, it
paid off. Today, the statistics are just staggering,
and they're all built on that bedrock of patience.
Bosdale Farms has 415 excellent classified cows,
the most in all of Canada. And three master breeder
shields. For those who are less familiar with
the Canadian system, can you explain the significance
of that? Yeah, the Master Breeder Shield isn't
just an award. It's a testament to sustained
generational excellence in breeding. It recognizes
operations that have consistently bred cattle
of high quality, longevity, and production efficiency,
generation after generation. So getting three.
To earn three shields, you have to prove that
the excellence isn't a fluke. that it's engineered
deep into the cow families you've developed.
It's the highest honor for a breeder, and it
confirms that their 11 -year wait was the foundation
of an eventual dynasty. And their approach to
technology, it really echoes the Lovitch's conviction,
doesn't it? They acknowledge genomics, but they
prioritize proven long -term results. Absolutely.
They stressed that while genomic testing provides
a baseline, a much higher degree of reliability
comes from truly knowing and understanding your
individual cows, knowing how cow families and
bulls transmit, and using proven numbers to pinpoint
your sire selection. They're looking for reliability
and consistency, not just the fastest jump in
the index. Their advice to younger breeders is
beautiful in its simplicity. Stay current, always
using the best proven bulls. Nothing should override
good common cow sense with proven cow families.
That common cow sense is the recurring theme.
It connects the Boss family, who needed 11 years
to prove their point, with the Lovitch, who bred
two champions from a 72 -cow herd. The reward,
they say, is that when every new calf has the
opportunity to become your next star brood cow
or lifetime production cow, farming stops being
just a job. It becomes a passion. You look forward
to going to work. Now, we need to talk about
the profound personal loss that shaped their
philosophy and deepened their commitment to stewardship,
which really transcends any cattle achievements.
The Boss family experienced the tragic loss of
their son and brother, Timothy, on May 1st, 2020.
This is deeply personal, and it's a moment we
need to respect. The family lives by their faith,
and it is clear that this loss reinforced for
them how precious life is, that every day is
a gift that must be stewarded wisely. The impact
of that grief shaped how they define success
and legacy far beyond the show ring. And when
they talk about how they want Bosdale to be remembered,
it's not just about the 415 excellent cows or
the three master breeder shields. It's about
something far more meaningful, and it gives context
to that long wait. Their hope is that their achievements
reflect their commitment to hard work, the importance
of family, and their devotion to serving God
through the wise stewardship of the animals,
the land, and the people they've been given.
The achievement is just the visible proof of
that deeper commitment. And that transforms the
work. It means the 11 -year wait wasn't a punishment.
It was simply a necessary period of persistence
under a higher calling. Before we move on from
Bosdale, we have to mention one anecdote that
just perfectly illustrates that blend of faith,
eye, and conviction. Oh, the story of Counselor.
The cow named Counselor. It's a perfect illustration
of seeing opportunity where most people would
only see loss. Right. So Counselor was this exciting
young two -year -old, a cow with immense potential.
But unfortunately, she had to be called open
because of a health issue. A normal operation,
facing the expense and challenge of culling a
cow, might just write her off and send her out.
That's just standard business practice. But Ed
Boz and the family, they saw potential that was
literally walking out the door. They decided
to take one single flush before she left the
herd. Now, if you think about the calculus there,
they had already decided she was leaving. Taking
that flush involves expense, labor, and time.
For an animal that has already failed to perform
to herd standards, most people would just skip
that step and accept the loss. But that single
small decision, it changed everything. It did.
That one flush resulted in Bosdale Stardust Portrait,
which became the second dam of outside portrait.
That lineage, stemming from that one final chance
they took on a cow, destined for culling. That's
why the entire massive portrait cow family is
such a big part of Bosdale today. Without that
conviction, that belief that there might still
be value there, that entire lineage would not
exist on their farm. It wasn't luck. It was paying
attention. It was having the conviction to invest
in a cow that was walking out the door and just
sticking to that principle of common cow sense.
And what's so fascinating is that now we have
two families, the Lovitch and the Bosses, who
have achieved staggering success from entirely
different timelines. A lightning strike versus
a decade -long siege. But they share that foundational
conviction. They trust their eye over the index.
They prioritize the cow family over the hype.
And if you're listening right now, maybe in the
quiet of the milk house at 5 a .m., and you're
in year three of what might be an 11 -year wait,
or you just sold your candy cane to pay the bills,
you need to know this. The Boss family didn't
know they'd end up with 415 excellent cows when
they were staring at that single EX classification
in 1980. They just kept showing up. That is the
core lesson. Faith isn't knowing how the story
ends. It's showing up anyway, driven by a philosophy
that transcends the immediate scoreboard. And
that brings us perfectly to our third story,
one where the courage wasn't about genetics,
but about radical efficiency and the human element
in a large -scale operation. Let's head 3 ,000
miles west to John DeFarm in Wisconsin, where
courage was tested not in the show ring, but
at the kitchen table with the family balance
sheet. This is the story of Michaela McGee. Michaela
came home about 12 years ago after graduating
from River Falls with her dairy science degree.
And she came home. to a foreign landscape. The
farm she grew up on had scaled dramatically.
We're talking two large herringbone parlors running
247, over 30 employees, and 1 ,550 cows. It was
a massive corporate machine, the type of operation
that defines modern maximalist dairy farming.
And she described feeling like an outsider, even
on the farm where she grew up. That's a powerful
admission. It carries so much weight for anyone
who grew up on a family farm, went off to college,
and came back to find the scale and the culture
had changed so dramatically. She was standing
in a place she knew by heart, but the sheer size
and complexity made her feel like a stranger,
like she had to fight to find her role. It just
highlights that often overlooked struggle of
the next generation coming home. But because
she felt like an outsider, she had the necessary
distance to see what the family, who were so
immersed in the daily grind of running two parlors,
247, just couldn't see. Her key observation was
simple. They were working harder than they needed
to for the results they were getting. High inputs,
high labor, 1 ,550 cows. It was inefficient.
The profitability just wasn't matching the immense
effort. And this is where the conversation got
difficult. She had the incredible courage to
suggest a completely counterintuitive business
strategy in an industry where expansion is gospel.
She suggested they milk fewer cows. Can you just
imagine the silence at that kitchen table when
that suggestion dropped? You want us to do what?
We built this operation on the principle of get
bigger, get out, and you want to shrink it. That
flies in the face of the last 20 years of industry
dogma. It is a massive risk, emotionally and
financially, to suggest contraction to a family
that built its success on expansion. But Michaela
had a critical advantage. Her grandfather. Her
grandfather. While he was prone to wanting to
expand, he was also very analytically minded.
He valued data and proof. So she didn't just
bring an emotional appeal. She turned her vision
into a cold. hard spreadsheet precisely she and
the cfo chris van summeren they ran the numbers
meticulously they took the previous year's financials
and created a mock -up of what would happen if
they cut 200 cows they analyzed the impact on
labor feed costs maintenance milk income they
weren't just guessing they were modeling the
economic reality and when the math came together
The number was clear. 1 ,350 cows. That was the
optimal number, the most profitable and sustainable
scale, not the maximal number they could physically
push through the parlors. And the results? Within
18 months of this right -sizing, as the CFO called
it, they were staggering. Staggering is an understatement.
They were shipping nearly the same volume of
milk with 200 fewer cows. Same production, but
dramatically better margins because they eliminated
the least efficient animals and optimized the
flow. Look, break down the metrics, because this
is where the analytical depth really proves the
point. The human efficiency gains were breathtaking.
Daily milking hours dropped from 144 to 18. An
87 .5 % reduction in the constant grinding labor
required to keep two parlors running 247. When
you reduce that kind of relentless workload,
staff are happier, turnover driving. And then
the financial impact? Labor costs fell by $900
,000 annually. And when you factor in the feed
savings, the reduced vet costs, all the overall
efficiency gains, their net profit increased
by $1 .2 million annually. It just proves the
philosophical point that the small breeder intuition
quality over quantity can be translated to the
massive corporate scale. Optimal beats maximal.
Every single time. Sometimes the bravest step
forward is to take two steps back in size. But
here's where Michaela's story really transcends
the balance sheet and connects back to the human
element we keep tracing through all these stories.
Her deep motivation wasn't just profit. It was
responsibility to her team. Yeah. She articulated
this really powerful insight that a coworker
or a boss has an equal influence on a person's
day as their spouse. And she internalized that
tremendous responsibility. She didn't want the
farm's demanding scale to ruin her employees'
quality of life. Her goal was personal. She said,
I don't want to be the reason somebody has a
bad day. And she put action behind that philosophy.
She built a kitchen above their new rotary parlor
to cook lunch for her team. Every day. That's
such a deeply rooted act of service. It transforms
a corporate structure into something more familial.
It is. She laughed and said, maybe cooking is
like my love language. But the effect is clear.
It makes their meetings more family style. It
takes the edge off. And it creates this genuine
sense of community in an operation that could
easily feel sterile and corporate. In an industry
that is struggling so profoundly with labor retention,
Michaela figured out that investing in the people
matters just as much as investing in the parlor
equipment. Her father's guiding philosophy for
John DeFarm, it just sums the story up perfectly.
Be the best, whatever size you are. dairy. That
means being the best steward of your finances,
your people, and your cows. It means excellence
isn't defined by the size of the milking string,
but by the size of the margin and the quality
of the life you offer your team. And that's it.
That is the common thread we were looking for.
The Lovitch, the Boss family, and Michaela McGee.
They all prioritized conviction. A deeply held
belief in their specific functional vision over
simply chasing the industry's default calculus
of maximal expansion or genomic hype. Let's just
sit with that for a moment as we sort of synthesize
all this. We have three vastly different operations
facing different challenges. Breeding world champions
on a small scale, maintaining type standards
over a decade, and optimizing a large corporate
dairy. But they all share this fundamental truth.
Conviction over calculus. They absolutely did.
Michael Lovish trusted what he saw in the barn,
the cow family, the functional type, the depth
of the pedigree over what the screen told him
about genomic indices. He said, if I don't like
the cow family, I'm out. Didn't matter what the
TPI was. And the Bosses family, they focused
on breeding cows they believed in, cows that
were functionally beautiful. They walked that
11 -year path of faith, ignoring the speed demands
of the industry because they knew their chosen
path led to a superior, more durable cow. They
chose longevity over immediate gratification.
And Michaela McGee, she trusted her detailed
efficiency analysis. She proved that right -sizing
was more profitable than continued maximalist
expansion. She rejected the dogma that bigger
is always better, and she validated the conviction
that optimal is always best. They all focused
on functional cows. Michael Levitch wants cows
they enjoy milking, cows that can have fun at
shows and don't require high maintenance. The
Boss family wants cows that reflect a high standard
of stewardship and longevity. And Michaela wanted
a herd size that maximized profit without crushing
her employees with 144 hours of daily milking.
The cow has to function within the system, whether
that system is a 72 -cow tie stall or a 1350
-cow rotary. And this leads directly to the second
great unifying truth, the walk we all take. Excellence
required walking, from yesterday's assumptions
to tomorrow's reality. And that walk is defined
by the waiting, the doubt, and the patience required.
Bosdell walking 11 years between victories. I
mean, the breakthrough only came after they had
endured years of quiet, necessary suffering and
doubt. The Lovitch breeding a champion out of
an ornery heifer that tested their patience every
single day, nearly selling her off. And Michaela
suggesting a radical business plan that went
against the expansion dogma of the entire industry,
putting her reputation on the line at the kitchen
table. It highlights that profound human struggle.
The human element is that the breakthrough, the
moment of validation, whether it's the $1 .2
million profit increase or the second grand champion
banner, it so often arrives right after the moment
of deepest doubt. It wasn't some cosmic guarantee
of success. It was simply the reward for the
people who refused to quit, who kept doing the
work even when the evidence wasn't there. Which
brings us to perhaps the most moving point and
the real essence of these stories. Faith as a
verb, not a feeling. That's exactly right. The
Levitches didn't have a feeling that they would
breed another grand champion. They had the conviction
to keep breeding the cows they believed in, regardless
of the index scores or the current hype, knowing
that eventually the market would catch up to
their eye. The Bass family kept showing up for
a decade, driven by their faith and their commitment
to stewardship, trusting that their focus on
the durable, functional cow would eventually
justify itself. And Michaela McGee, she didn't
just feel like they should shrink. She enacted
that conviction. She did the painful work of
running the numbers and selling the cows needed
to achieve a more sustainable, profitable reality.
It wasn't about the victory, was it? The victory
was just proof that the conviction was justified.
The point was Michael Lovitch trusting his eye
in the ring, even while his hands were trembling.
The point was the Boss family showing up for
11 years when no one was watching. The point
was Michaela prioritizing her people and the
financial health of the operation over the industry's
obsession with scale. The belief itself, that
courage to hold on to that singular vision when
everyone else is chasing something shinier, that's
the real victory here. And that is the message
we want to leave with you. If you are listening
to this right now, maybe it is 5 a .m., maybe
you're sitting in the milk house and you're wondering
if what you're building really matters. Maybe
you are in year five of a struggle and you're
looking at the input costs or the classification
sheets and you're questioning your entire path.
These families who struggled with trembling hands
at the biggest show in the world, who endured
decade -long waits for validation, and who made
painful, counterintuitive financial decisions,
they would tell you the scoreboard hasn't finished
counting yet. You might be in year eight of your
11 -year wait. Keep breeding the cows you believe
in. Keep focusing on the functional cow. Keep
trusting what you see in the barn, even when
the screen tells you something different, or
when the scale demands you go bigger. Trust optimal
over maximal. Your commitment is what defines
the value long before the banner or the balance
sheet catches up. This has been The Deep Dive,
powered by The Bullvine. For the full article
that includes the complete interviews with the
Lovitch, Boss, and McGee families, and all the
specific data points we discussed, head over
to www .thebullvine .com. Subscribe wherever
you listen. We'll be back tomorrow with another
deep dive. Until then, what you're building matters
whether anyone else sees it or not.