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Many people contributed to the three days of showbiz and hugging and deal-making that was the 2022 NFL Draft in Las Vegas. One was Ryan Henderson ’08, executive vice president of marketing and partnerships at Radegen, the burgeoning sports and entertainment agency.

You may have seen him. He was welded to three red-hot NFL prospects: Aidan Hutchinson, Ikem Ekwonu and Treylon Burks. Jet-lagged and coordinating a blitz of requests, Henderson would crash at 1 a.m. and arise at 4 a.m. to repeat the process. It was all an eye-burning blur until …

Day 1. Showtime. NFL Commissioner Roger Goodell steps to the podium. Hutchinson goes to the Detroit Lions second overall. The draft’s green room erupts. Hugs from the former University of Michigan star’s parents. (Their two daughters call Henderson Aidan’s big brother.) Four spots later, Ekwonu is drafted by his hometown Carolina Panthers. Ekwonu’s mom, Amaka, locks Henderson in a massive embrace. “God is good! God is God!” she proclaims.

“My boy is coming home! My boy is coming home!” When Burks, staying with his great-grandmother in Arkansas, gets drafted 18th by the Tennessee Titans, Henderson celebrates alongside Hutchinson in the back of their trans-port vehicle en route to Hutchinson and Ekwonu’s post-draft celebrations.

There is nowhere else Henderson would rather be.

***

Henderson describes himself as “an amalgamation” of lessons from key people in his life. One of them is ��ñ��’s Kimberly Jaussi, his mentor and an associate professor in the School of Management. Not every lesson came from the classroom. Once, before attending a show, Jaussi dropped by the now-closed Mad Moose Saloon, where Henderson was stoically bartending.

Jaussi waved her beloved student to the bar. “Smile more,” she told him.

Henderson had tenacity and discipline. Those were requirements when he was on ���s swim team and had to wake up at 6 a.m. to hop into a frigid pool. In class, he always had questions and always wanted recommendations, Jaussi recalls.

“She kept pushing me, whether it was in class or office hours,” Henderson says. “’You need to smile more. You need to put yourself out there in a different way and show that you can be approachable.’”

It was a revelation. How would Henderson get a C-suite job if he looked intense and closed-off?

Sports were always part of Henderson’s life. His summers were spent pounding golf balls and chicken fingers with honey mustard at Storm King Golf Club, a short walk from his parents’ house in Cornwall, N.Y. Henderson took up swimming in high school to stay in shape and continued at ��ñ��. But as a junior, Lyme disease — originally misdiagnosed as a rotator cuff injury — ended his swimming career. The setbacks continued. He graduated into the Great Recession with zero connections in his desired field. He applied nonstop to jobs in entertainment and sports.

Nothing. So he settled into a career in health insurance.

In 2015, Henderson and his father, Mark, and older brother, Kyle, a ��ñ�� alumnus, attended The Masters, professional golf’s signature event. Standing at the 16th green, Henderson chatted with the patrons next to him. One was Justine Reed, wife of professional golfer Patrick Reed. A friendship developed. He was with the Reeds when they rang the bell at the New York Stock Exchange. He rode in Justin Rose’s cart at the FedEx Cup and high-fived Rickie Fowler during the Ryder Cup, where he met Michael Jordan and Tiger Woods.

Yet Henderson’s reality remained corporate inertia. Jaussi advised that his “power of thought” had to be stronger. So, every morning, Henderson repeated the same mantra. You’re meant to do more. Say “yes” more. You’re meant to make more of an impact. He read and journaled to forge the reality he craved. In late 2016, Henderson was set to move to Seattle for UnitedHealth Group and eventually attend medical school.

Then Patrick Reed called. There was an opening on his management team at CAA, the mammoth talent agency. Was Henderson interested?

Henderson met with Lowell Taub, then-head of sports endorsements at CAA. For 90 minutes, he explained the realities of the job. I heard you met Tiger at the Ryder Cup, Taub said. What’s he like? Any golf fan would have swooned in Woods’ presence, but Henderson knew Woods wanted to be treated like one of the guys.

So he did. That’s what he told Taub.

Henderson never made it to Seattle.

***

A golf course provided another life-changing moment. At Long Island’s Glen Oaks Club in 2017, a scorching drive somehow found the back of Henderson’s head. The ball then ricocheted 45 degrees and traveled another 40 yards.

Henderson stayed conscious and worked the next two days. Neurologists were stunned. With a grade 3 concussion, he should have been knocked out, not driving himself to the hospital. Another neurologist laughed. “You should be dead,” he told Henderson. That doctor recommended a six- to eight-month recovery featuring steroid injections to reduce swelling in the occipital lobe.

Unable to find a happy medium between work and his health, Henderson made the difficult choice to leave CAA. He wasn’t down for long. After two months, he signed a couple of Olympians and landed consultant work with some brands. After six months, he joined Radegen.

Henderson compiled a five-year sustainability plan; he achieved those goals at Radegen two-and-a-half years ahead of schedule. Now he’s focused on creating a culture that’s attractive to clients and employees — and the possibilities that entails.

“There’s ever-growing opportunity and evolution in sports,” he says. “The ability for athletes to be viewed as more than athletes gets me ex-cited. How do you find ways to incorporate the athlete mentality into an agency?”

That includes promoting social issues. Radegen, Henderson says, has been active in promoting mental health — especially in men — and narrowing the gap between men’s and women’s sports. Radegen worked with EA Sports to include International Ice Hockey Federation women’s hockey players in EA SPORTS NHL 22, a first for any female league in a male sports video game.

These deals start with Jaussi’s long-ago counsel. Connecting with athletes, he says, starts with vulnerability.

“It’s really just sitting down and trying to show him: Hey, I’m here with you,” Henderson says. “It doesn’t matter my age. It doesn’t matter that I am not the expert of your respective sport. You’re the expert there. I need to be the expert in my own world, which is to help you see what you can create and really just connect the dots.”

Henderson admits to caring too much, but guiding an athlete toward an impactful life is a long-term, immersive responsibility. The games end. Life continues.

“We don’t want to be ancillary to this; we want to be in it,” he says of Radegen’s personal approach and low employee-to-client ratio. “We want to be partners in your endeavors. We don’t want to work for you; we want to work with you.”

People, he says, make the industry run. Henderson tabulates what he’s donated to charity, not his career earnings. The former has more impact. So does helping ��ñ�� students and alumni looking for career advice. Teaching sports management at the University appeals to him. It would work, and not because he’s succeeded in that arena. As a student, Jaussi says, Henderson was “incredibly committed” to personal development and character building.

She believes those qualities provide the foundation of Henderson’s success. They could influence the next generation of behind-the-scenes sports managers.

“He’s doing it all for the right reasons and making the world a better place by helping these young athletes develop character, the right kind of character, in an environment that doesn’t necessarily reward that,” Jaussi says.