I woke up nervous.

Today was the day I'd pitch Lulu on sponsoring Sponsor Games 2026. They'd supported the event last year, but that was no guarantee they'd come back. I'd almost lost a ton of money on the first year, and a lot was riding on this call.

Oh, and I'd somehow convinced them to let me record the whole thing.

No pressure.

Here's what happened when I stopped planning the perfect pitch deck and just had a real conversation about partnership.

The Pre-Call Prep That Actually Mattered

I had three things on my prep list. Not twenty. Three.

First: Review our last interaction. I pulled up our email thread from April. The photos from the event. The videos we'd created. Matt's response: "These are so good. Thank you all."

Then the post-campaign report I'd sent two weeks after the event—all the stats, my testimonial, the whole package.

Second: Research what's happening at Lulu right now. I checked their promos (nothing major). Scrolled Instagram (they're promoting Content Entrepreneur Expo). Hit Matt's LinkedIn to see what he's talking about.

Gold mine: The "10 Taco Theory" post from two months ago. Matt explaining how print-on-demand collapses three scary barriers for creators—capital, inventory risk, and logistics. Instead of betting $10K on a pallet of merch, you invest an evening and less than a 10-pack of tacos to test an idea.

Perfect. I'd reference that on the call.

Third: Review last year's post-campaign report. Refresh my memory on what we delivered. What worked. What the goals were.

One gem I'd included: a video testimonial I recorded for them. "Quite literally, Sponsor Games would not have happened were it not for your support. Or at least I would have lost a massive amount of money."

Real. Vulnerable. Grateful.

That's the kind of thing that gets shared internally at a brand. That's what gets you remembered.

The Call Started with Listening, Not Pitching

Matt mentioned he'd just gotten back from the Partner Stack affiliate conference in New York. They're planning for Content Entrepreneur Expo.

Then he dropped something interesting: Lulu's launching an affiliate program. For the first time ever.

Wait, what?

I dug in. Why now? Why not before?

Matt explained: When he joined Lulu in 2016, they focused on growth hacking, events, and tech. Affiliates didn't fit the model—they only make money when a book prints, not on registrations. So they built a partners page, let people drive traffic for free, and moved on.

But now? Creators like Leonda are immediately asking, "Do you have an affiliate program?" The answer has always been no. Lost opportunities everywhere.

So they're finally doing it.

My brain immediately went: This could tie into the event sponsorship. But I didn't pitch yet. I just listened.

What Matt Actually Valued About Last Year

I asked Matt how he thought the event went. What made him decide to sponsor in the first place?

His answer changed how I think about pitching events forever.

"It came up well after our budget was locked for the year," Matt said. "But knowing you, having worked with you already, understanding it's a first-year event—we knew there was going to be value there. You were going to do whatever it took to make sure people left with value."

He continued: "People are going to leave that event feeling charged with value, really hyped to go to the next level. They're going to tell other people about it. And Lulu's associated with that."

There it is.

He wasn't betting on my audience size or my reach. He was betting on me creating an experience people would remember. The halo effect. The positive brand association.

"For the amount of money spent, it wasn't a lot this first go-around," Matt said. "But I've had multiple conversations with people after the fact about Sponsor Games. That's the return."

This is the dream. Working with a sponsor who gets that not everything is about clicks and conversions. Sometimes it's about being associated with quality, with community, with momentum.

The Foam Sponsorship Idea That Blew My Mind

As we paged through the post-campaign report, I asked about the video assets we'd created. Clips of Matt on stage, behind-the-scenes footage, all of it.

"One of the things we liked most was getting these clips from a different perspective," Matt said. "That's not something my marketing team could create internally. And there's a higher level of trust when somebody comes across an asset—even on our channel—that was created by somebody else."

Then I asked if they'd ever done allow-listing campaigns. You know, where I post content on my platform and they boost it with ad dollars from my account.

Matt paused. "To my knowledge, we've not done any of that."

I explained how it works—I post the content, grant them advertiser access, they put paid dollars behind the post that lives on my account. When someone scrolls their feed, it shows up under my handle as promoted from Lulu.

"That sounds a lot more appealing," Matt said. "I didn't realize that was an option."

Consultant mode activated. I'm not just pitching him—I'm helping him think through how to get better ROI from partnerships.

But then Matt said something that made me scramble to rethink my entire proposal.

"One thing that's super important to me at a conference is really good coffee. You're one of the only ones that's ever done it. The only way I'm coming back is if you have that coffee cart."

He kept going: "When I'd get my lattes every morning—because you know I'm a fancy boy and I need a latte with oat milk—on top was a little logo of Creator Wizard or Sponsor Games. That was the coolest thing. I would have loved to have been able to be the foam sponsor on your lattes."

WHAT.

The foam sponsor. The exclusive foam sponsor of Sponsor Games.

My mind exploded. Obviously we'd put the Sponsor Games logo on the foam. But why not sell that as a sponsorship activation? People are going to snap photos of that. Post it on Instagram and LinkedIn. Tell their friends.

"Let me à la carte the things that I want," Matt said. "Get creative with it. That's true partnership to me."

As he's talking, I'm frantically thinking: Okay, how do I pitch this at the end? He wants the foam. Maybe the lanyard. Maybe the badge. Maybe the welcome party. What's the package?

The Sponsor Tank Was Worth More Than I Realized

We talked about the Sponsor Tank—our Shark Tank-style pitch competition where eight finalists pitched to a panel of judges (including Matt).

"To me, that was invaluable," Matt said. "That's me and my brand being able to show the value we hope to bring to the journey of that particular creator."

I hadn't fully appreciated how much sponsors valued being positioned as experts. As people who could give feedback, share wisdom, be seen as authorities in the space.

Matt loved it. Absolutely wants to do it again.

The Attendee Sponsorship Concept

I floated an idea: What if part of the sponsorship budget was earmarked for deals with attendees at the event?

"You spend $15K to sponsor, but $2,500 of that goes toward partnering with one to three creators you meet there. Maybe we do it live on stage—negotiate deliverables in real time, hash out a deal, shake hands."

Matt loved the concept but wanted clarity: "What does 'sponsor an attendee' actually mean? Is it cash? Is it a publishing package? And who decides who gets it?"

Fair questions.

I explained we'd facilitate the negotiation live. Maybe on stage. The $2,500 is the carrot. We'd help make sure the deal is fair based on audience size, platform, all of it.

"That adds value for attendees," Matt said. "But I'd need heavy facilitation on your part. I'm already there as a sponsor. I've got stuff going on. If you're somewhere in the mix helping with that so I have some part in it but not full facilitation, I'm going to feel better about adding that to my sponsorship."

Noted. Make it easy for the sponsor. Don't add work. Add opportunity.

The Moment I Went Off-Script

I'd prepared a proposal at the same investment level as last year—$7,500. Even though we're doubling attendee headcount. I wanted to acknowledge their support in year one and not gouge them.

But then Matt had said "$15,000" earlier in the call when talking about hypothetical sponsorship scenarios.

Was he signaling willingness to spend more?

I decided to test it.

"So I had this in my back pocket because I wanted to hear what you had to say first," I said. "But I would love to give you all of those things if you'd be interested in being the presenting sponsor."

"And what's the price tag there?"

Deep breath.

"$15,000. And it includes the foam sponsorship. The welcome dinner. The badge and lanyard logo. And being the presenting sponsor on the badge. Plus the $2,500 commitment to sponsor an attendee."

Silence.

"Yep."

Wait. Yep?

"Yeah, let's do it."

BOOM.

I had to cue the victory soundtrack. We're doing this.

What Actually Closed the Deal

Looking back, here's what made this work:

1. I did my homework. I referenced Matt's LinkedIn post. I knew what they were focused on. I showed I was paying attention to their business, not just mine.

2. I listened before pitching. The affiliate program revelation. The foam sponsorship idea. These came from having a conversation, not delivering a monologue.

3. I delivered absurd value last time. The video assets. The testimonial. The post-campaign report. Matt remembered all of it because I'd overdelivered.

4. I made it about him, not me. I wasn't selling him on why I'm great. I was asking what would make this partnership valuable for Lulu. What activations would excite him. What would his team actually use.

5. I offered a solution, not just a sponsorship. The à la carte approach. The attendee sponsorship with facilitation. The foam sponsor concept. I wasn't just selling logo placement—I was solving problems and creating memorable moments.

6. I wasn't afraid to upsell. I could have stayed at $7,500. But Matt signaled he saw value at a higher level. So I tested $15K with a bigger package. He said yes immediately.

The Takeaway

Most creators overthink sponsorship pitches. They build elaborate decks. They rehearse scripts. They try to anticipate every objection.

But the best pitches? They're conversations.

You listen. You ask questions. You reference past wins. You float ideas and gauge reactions. You make it collaborative instead of transactional.

Matt didn't feel like I was extracting money from him. He felt like we were building something together. Something that would benefit his brand, excite attendees, and create moments worth talking about.

That's not a pitch. That's a partnership.

And partnerships renew. They grow. They compound over time.

So before your next sponsorship call, stop writing the perfect pitch deck. Start researching the person on the other end of the Zoom. What do they care about? What's working for them? What problems can you solve?

Then just have the conversation.

The close will take care of itself.

Want to learn how to have sponsorship conversations that actually close deals? Inside Wizard's Guild, we teach the exact frameworks for pitching, negotiating, and delivering partnerships that sponsors renew year after year. No scripts. No templates. Just real conversations that build real relationships.