Ability is what you're capable of doing. Motivation determines

Host: The night was cool and clear, the kind of night when the world feels wide open, like a blank page waiting for the right hand to write upon it. The city lights shimmered in the distance, and a faint hum of life rose from below — cars, laughter, fragments of music from a nearby street corner.

High above it all, on the rooftop of an old warehouse turned studio, Jack and Jeeny sat on the ledge with their legs dangling over the edge, the wind brushing against their faces. Behind them, an open door led into a small room filled with canvases, brushes, and half-finished ideas — the creative aftermath of ambition meeting exhaustion.

Jack stared down at the streets below, his sharp gray eyes tracing the pulse of movement. Jeeny sat beside him, hair blowing softly in the breeze, a half-smile on her face that didn’t quite reach her eyes.

Jeeny: (quietly, as though to herself) “Lou Holtz once said, ‘Ability is what you're capable of doing. Motivation determines what you do. Attitude determines how well you do it.’”

Jack: (smirking faintly) “That’s the kind of quote they print on gym walls and corporate mugs.”

Jeeny: (glancing at him) “Maybe. But that doesn’t make it wrong.”

Jack: “No, it just makes it obvious. We all know ability matters less than effort, and effort less than mindset. But we still spend most of our lives pretending it’s the other way around.”

Host: The wind caught his words, carrying them into the night. Below, someone laughed loudly, the sound echoing off the walls before vanishing. A single plane crossed the sky, a distant light threading through darkness.

Jeeny: “That’s because attitude is invisible. You can see skill, you can measure output — but the way someone believes? That’s harder to define. It’s easier to reward performance than spirit.”

Jack: (leaning back on his hands) “You sound like one of those coaches who tell players to ‘believe in themselves’ while they’re getting crushed five-nil.”

Jeeny: (smiling) “Maybe belief doesn’t stop the loss. But it changes what you do with it.”

Host: The rooftop lights flickered, throwing their faces into momentary shadow. Jeeny turned toward him, her expression open, searching, a spark of conviction lighting her eyes.

Jack: (sighing) “You really think attitude makes the difference?”

Jeeny: “Absolutely. Look — two people with the same ability and the same chance. One sees failure as an ending, the other as information. Which one grows? Which one survives?”

Jack: (after a pause) “The one who doesn’t let pride get in the way of progress.”

Jeeny: (softly) “Exactly. That’s attitude.”

Host: The city lights flickered below, tiny universes of human struggle — a million stories of ambition, fatigue, and resilience all unfolding at once. Somewhere, a siren wailed, then faded.

Jack: “You know, Holtz was a football coach. He dealt in motivation like currency. I guess for him, attitude wasn’t philosophy — it was survival.”

Jeeny: “And isn’t that true for all of us? Ability gets you in the door, motivation gets you moving, but attitude decides if you make it through the storms.”

Jack: (smirking) “Storms. You and your metaphors.”

Jeeny: (laughing lightly) “Come on, Jack, even you know it’s true. Every time you’ve pushed through something hard, it wasn’t because of what you could do. It was because of how you chose to see it.”

Host: The wind grew stronger, pulling at their clothes, stirring the dust on the rooftop. The city seemed to breathe beneath them, alive with contradictions — noise and stillness, despair and drive, failure and fire.

Jack: (thoughtful) “I used to think talent was everything. I had ability — real ability — but I coasted. And when things didn’t go my way, I blamed circumstance, not myself. That’s the danger of ability: it gives you excuses.”

Jeeny: (softly) “And attitude takes them away.”

Jack: (smiling faintly) “You know, that’s brutal — and true.”

Jeeny: “It’s liberating, too. Once you realize attitude shapes experience, you stop waiting for conditions to be perfect. You start creating your own weather.”

Host: A pause settled, filled only by the hum of the city below and the rhythmic flap of a loose banner against the metal frame. The stars above were faint but visible — quiet witnesses to their conversation.

Jack: “So, ability’s potential, motivation’s fuel, and attitude’s… what? The steering wheel?”

Jeeny: (grinning) “Exactly. You can have the fastest car in the world, but if you’re driving toward the wrong horizon, you’ll still end up lost.”

Jack: “Or worse, wrecked.”

Jeeny: “Or wiser.”

Host: Her last word hung between them, tender and sharp. Jack looked at her then, really looked — the conviction in her gaze, the calm steadiness that made her seem immune to cynicism. For a moment, he envied her clarity.

Jack: (quietly) “You ever get tired of believing the best in people?”

Jeeny: (with a soft laugh) “All the time. But belief isn’t about comfort. It’s about choice. You choose to see potential — in others, in yourself — even when the evidence says not to.”

Host: The air shifted; a breeze lifted the corner of one of Jeeny’s sketches that lay near the rooftop door. Jack caught it before it blew away — a charcoal drawing of a runner mid-stride, face fierce, body straining forward. He looked at it, then at her.

Jack: “You drew this?”

Jeeny: (nodding) “Last month. I was thinking about momentum — about how attitude isn’t what gets you started. It’s what keeps you from stopping.”

Jack: (handing it back, quietly) “You know… for someone who talks about storms, you sure know a lot about endurance.”

Jeeny: (smiling) “Maybe because I’ve had to build mine.”

Host: The wind stilled, and for a brief, golden moment, the city seemed suspended — a breathing organism of ambition, defeat, and redemption. The world, vast and flawed, mirrored everything they had just said.

Jeeny’s voice came softly now, not as explanation but as truth, a mantra carried on the night air:

Jeeny: “Ability shows what’s possible.
Motivation begins the journey.
But attitude — attitude decides the story.”

Host: The camera of thought pulled back, showing the two of them — small figures on a rooftop, framed against an endless horizon of lights.

And in that quiet expanse, Lou Holtz’s words unfolded, not as advice, but as law:

That ability is the canvas,
motivation is the brush,
and attitude is the hand that turns effort into art.

That potential means nothing without direction,
and that what separates the great from the good
is not talent —
but temperament.

For in the end,
how you do something
is the clearest reflection
of who you are.

Host: A breeze whispered, lifting the corner of the rooftop flag again.

Jack: (quietly, with a half-smile) “Maybe attitude isn’t something you have. Maybe it’s something you choose — over and over again.”

Jeeny: (turning toward him) “Exactly, Jack. That’s what makes it powerful.”

Host: Below them, the city breathed, and somewhere in the distance, a new day began to stir —
a day waiting to be met not with ability,
nor with mere drive,
but with attitude bright enough to turn the ordinary into triumph.