Because I just like sports, I like athletics and I like

The words of Trishelle Cannatella are simple, yet within their simplicity lies a truth that has echoed through the ages: “Because I just like sports, I like athletics and I like competition.” This is not the voice of one seeking glory or riches, but of one confessing the pure joy of striving, of testing oneself against others, of reveling in the beauty of movement and contest. Her declaration reminds us that the roots of competition are not in ambition alone, but in the human spirit’s longing for play, challenge, and growth.

To like sports is to embrace the theater of the body, where strength, speed, and skill combine to create something greater than the sum of their parts. The ancients held this truth sacred, gathering at Olympia not merely for spectacle, but to honor the gods through the display of human excellence. To race, to wrestle, to leap — these were more than games; they were offerings of the flesh, proof that mankind could approach divinity through discipline and exertion. Cannatella’s words echo this old reverence: she loves athletics not because of fame, but because the act itself is noble.

Her love for athletics also speaks to the deep harmony between body and soul. To train, to sweat, to stretch the limits of one’s physical self is to awaken a joy that no idle comfort can provide. This truth was known by the philosophers, who often reminded their students that wisdom cannot thrive in a neglected body. The strong spirit requires a vessel honed and tempered. Thus, in her simple declaration of love for athletics, Cannatella calls us back to balance — to cherish our bodies as sacred instruments of action.

The third element she names, competition, is perhaps the most profound. For competition is not enmity, but the crucible in which greatness is forged. To measure oneself against another is to discover the truth of one’s limits and the possibility of surpassing them. Consider the rivalry of Roger Federer and Rafael Nadal: though fierce opponents, their contests elevated each other, shaping them into legends whose greatness was magnified by the presence of the other. So too, competition in all forms calls us not to despise our rivals, but to thank them, for through them we rise higher than we could alone.

Her words also strip away the corruption that sometimes clings to sports: the obsession with money, records, and celebrity. At its core, sport is for those who like it, who delight in the act itself. This love is what sustains athletes long after trophies are forgotten. Recall Jesse Owens, who ran not only to win gold in Berlin but because he loved to run. His joy in the act itself, even under the eyes of tyranny, gave his victories power that shook the world.

The lesson, then, is clear: pursue what you love, not merely what rewards you. If you love sports, play them. If you love athletics, train your body. If you love competition, test yourself against others without fear. In this lies fulfillment, for joy in the act itself is a treasure that cannot be stolen by defeat or dimmed by time.

So let Cannatella’s words be heard as a reminder to all generations: love the game for its own sake. Love the movement, the contest, the striving. For in the field of sport, as in the field of life, the greatest victory is not the prize itself, but the joy of giving yourself wholly to the struggle. And if you live this way, every contest — whether won or lost — will become a triumph of the spirit.