What a Leader Can Learn from Bad Bunny’s Residency at the Choliseo

A few days ago, I stopped in front of a powerful image: Bad Bunny, alone on stage at the Choliseo, the day before one of the most significant nights of his career. Not because of the special effects or the impressive visual production, but because of what that image represented internally: someone fully present, sustained by years of intention, sacrifice, and clarity.

In a previous article,-What Business Leaders Can Learn from Bad Bunny’s Business Strategy- I talked about what leaders can learn from his authenticity and strategic rebellion. Today I want to go deeper. I want to talk about the invisible heart of performance. About what no one sees when he steps onto the stage, but without which nothing would be possible.

How does an artist like Bad Bunny, a global figure, prepare to not lose himself in the noise? What keeps him focused, connected, genuine? And what can we learn as leaders, creators, or those who sustain something on our own stages?

This isn’t just a performance analysis. It’s an invitation to look inward, as he has done. Because what sustains a show like that… also sustains a well-lived life.

None of This Was a Coincidence: What We Didn’t See Before the Choliseo

Many celebrate Bad Bunny for what they see today: his historic residency at the Coliseo of Puerto Rico, the first artist to open a residency concert series there. But what almost no one sees—and what is most underestimated—is everything that had to happen beforehand to make that moment possible.

According to Setlist.fm data, Bad Bunny has performed over 370 concerts between 2017 and 2024. That implies thousands of hours of preparation, global tours, stages of all sizes, and a deliberate accumulation of stage, emotional, and creative experience. Every night in Colombia, every set in Spain, every awards show performance... it was training. It was part of the invisible process that mentally, physically, and energetically prepared him to sustain what he is now achieving on his home soil, in his residency No Me Quiero Ir De Aquí.

In performance psychology, we know that real performance begins long before the moment of execution. As psychologist Michael Gervais says: "You don’t rise to the occasion. You fall to the level of your training." And Bad Bunny’s training hasn’t been random. It’s been consistent, focused, and progressive.

The mistake we make as spectators (and that many leaders and business owners make too) is thinking performance is only about the visible moment. But the most determining factor is the invisible: the mental structure, internal practices, emotional resilience cultivated over years. If Benito hadn’t walked that path with discipline, purpose, and focus, he probably wouldn’t be here opening a residency that, symbolically, also opens a new era for Puerto Rican culture.

Mental Preparation: What You Don’t See Also Gets Trained

In the iconic interview "73 Questions" by Vogue, Bad Bunny appears in his pre-show routine. He’s calm. Eats something light, exercises, and seems emotionally stable minutes before going on stage. When asked if he’s nervous, he just shrugs. "I’m good." That calmness isn’t disinterest—it’s focus. It’s emotional self-regulation.

Many confuse high energy with anxiety and calmness with passivity. But those of us who work in performance psychology know that top performers don’t necessarily go on stage pumped with adrenaline. They go on stage present. Grounded. Aware. Bad Bunny has found his formula: move the body, control the environment, minimize internal and external interference.

And most importantly: he has learned to filter expectations—not to isolate himself, but to stay connected to his purpose. Instead of focusing on what’s expected of him, he chooses to connect with what he wants to express. In another interview with Los40, reflecting on the magnitude of his concerts, Bad Bunny admits something powerful: “I prefer not to think about the numbers or the weight of it all. Because then I start thinking: ‘Should I feel proud? Should I be nervous? Should I act like this is totally normal for me?’”

That phrase holds a key mental practice: the art of deliberate focus. Of not letting the external narrative hijack your internal experience. In my work with founders and leaders, this is one of the most common blocks: operating from the gaze of others, from expectations, from collective ego. Benito chooses differently. He doesn’t disconnect from what he feels, but he also doesn’t drown in what’s expected.

The result is presence. And presence, under pressure, is mental gold. Confidence comes from being connected to your purpose, not from your performance. Benito doesn’t show up to please; he shows up to share something genuine. That difference isn’t just felt—it’s sustainable.

What can a leader, business owner, or founder learn here? That real preparation doesn’t start on stage, but much earlier: in the mind, in habits, in intention. Sustaining a historic residency like Bad Bunny’s isn’t about luck—it’s the result of a mental and emotional architecture cultivated consistently. And that same logic applies to any leader who wants to sustain their impact without betraying their integrity.

Authenticity as an Energy Strategy

When Vogue asks if Bad Bunny is a character, he responds: “Bad Bunny is me. I’m not playing anyone. I just am.”

That response reveals more than artistic identity—it reveals an energy strategy. Leading from a persona is draining. Performing to meet expectations fragments you. But leading from your center, from who you are, frees sustainable energy. Many leaders and founders are exhausted not by the workload, but by the masks they wear—by sustaining an idealized version of themselves that no longer fits.

Bad Bunny understood something we work on constantly in performance psychology: sustained performance doesn’t come from constant effort, but from coherence. From being who you already are—without internal makeup. His greatest act of performance isn’t the show, it’s the congruence with which he inhabits his space.

Strategic Recovery, Even If No One Sees It

Though he admits to sleeping little, his routine is highly strategic: early movement, connection with himself, and selective control over what he consumes emotionally. He doesn’t overexpose himself. He doesn’t give more than he protects first.

In performance psychology, this is advanced energy management: knowing when to push and when to pause. Designing your system not just to move forward, but to regenerate. Bad Bunny doesn’t wait for burnout to stop. He anticipates. His care isn’t reactive—it’s proactive.

As Michael Gervais would say, “Recovery is not the opposite of performance. It’s part of it.” And that’s something many leaders and founders still haven’t integrated. They rest when they collapse—not when their body asks. Benito shows another way: integrating recovery as part of the routine, not as an exception.

This isn’t self-indulgence—it’s system consciousness. Benito knows his mind, his body, and his energy are the instrument. And he protects them. Because if he falls, everything falls with him.

What a Residency at the Choliseo Can Teach Any Leader

In one of the episodes of the Echando Pa’Lante podcast titled “Dentro de la Mente de un Fundador de Alto Rendimiento”, I spoke about a mindset focused not on doing more, but on sustaining better. Bad Bunny embodies that mindset in a different language. Not the language of PowerPoint or pitches, but of the body, the rhythm, the energy felt before the music starts. His stage presence is a masterclass in embodied leadership.

What we see today—a historic residency, a cultural phenomenon—is only the visible part. The important part lies in how he sustains it: habits, mindset, energy protection systems, purpose clarity, and emotional regulation. What the business world calls soft skills are in reality core skills for any leader who wants to sustain impact without betraying their integrity.

Bad Bunny didn’t arrive at the Choliseo by accident. He did so because he practices something every leader and founder needs: internal consistency. He has learned to design routines that regulate, not just prepare. To cultivate authenticity to avoid emotional exhaustion. To filter external noise to protect clarity. And to make rest a system, not an afterthought.

And that, in a world that rewards speed and excess, is a radical statement. Because what’s at stake isn’t just what you do, but where you do it from. And Bad Bunny, whether he means to or not, reminds us of something essential:

The stage doesn’t lie. And your energy is felt before you even speak.