As all professional athletes know, Father Time is undefeated

In the words of Jason Collins, we hear the solemn truth: “Father Time is undefeated.” These words are not merely about the passing of years, but about the eternal law that governs all flesh and bone. Just as rivers carve stone and mountains are worn by the winds, so too does age bend even the strongest of athletes. No matter the strength of one’s arm, the swiftness of one’s legs, or the courage of one’s heart, there comes a day when the body whispers the final command: rest. To recognize this is not weakness, but wisdom.

Collins speaks with the humility of one who has walked the arena of battle and knows the toll it exacts. The back that aches in the morning is more than a complaint of the flesh—it is the herald of time, reminding the warrior that his season has turned. Many fight against this truth, clinging to glory as if by holding tightly, they could stop the wheel of time. But he counsels otherwise: to bow out gracefully, to yield with dignity, and to pass the torch to the young. In this act, there is honor, for true greatness lies not in how long one fights, but in knowing when to step aside.

History gives us many mirrors of this wisdom. Consider the great Roman general Scipio Africanus, who defeated Hannibal and secured Rome’s destiny. Though praised as one of the greatest commanders, he too faced the envy of men and the slow weight of years. Instead of clutching desperately at power, he withdrew to a quiet life in the countryside, leaving the stage with dignity. His legacy remained untarnished, for he knew that the laurels of victory are brightest when one does not try to wear them forever. Like Collins, Scipio heard the voice of Father Time and obeyed with grace.

The quote also speaks of transformation. When Collins says he will become a “full-time fan of the sport,” he reveals the truth that endings are not destruction, but rebirth. The warrior lays down his sword to take up the mantle of witness, the player becomes a teacher, the competitor becomes a supporter. In this way, love for the craft never dies—it only changes its form. This shift is not to be feared, but embraced, for every season has its beauty: the spring of youth, the summer of triumph, the autumn of transition, and the winter of wisdom.

We must understand that the lesson here is not only for athletes. It is for all who labor under the sun. Whether in art, business, or daily toil, there will come a time when we too must yield. Our hands may not paint with the same steadiness, our voices may not ring with the same strength, our steps may not cover the same distance. Yet if we release with honor and choose to guide the next generation, then we remain eternal in them. Our influence does not perish—it multiplies.

Therefore, let us not rage against the passing of our powers, but let us cultivate them while they last and then pass them on with grace. The practical action for all who read these words is this: know your season. Train the body when it is young, sharpen the mind as it matures, and give freely of wisdom when the years advance. Do not cling so tightly to one phase of life that you miss the beauty of the next.

To resist Father Time is to waste energy in a battle already lost. To accept him is to find peace and to live fully in each moment granted. For in truth, the measure of a life is not how long we stood upon the stage, but how we carried ourselves upon it, and how we left it for others to inherit.

And so, as the ancients would say, remember this: the body is the chariot, but time is the driver. You cannot seize the reins from him, but you can ride with dignity until he carries you to the gates. When that hour comes, step down with pride, and cheer for those who now ride where you once soared. In that cheering, you are not diminished—you are eternal.