I decided to create a sports club during the Soviet times. It

In the words of Sergei Bubka, the mighty pole vaulter who defied the earth’s pull, we hear this declaration: “I decided to create a sports club during the Soviet times. It was my dream.” This is not the shallow boast of a man who merely desired recognition, but the confession of a soul aflame with vision. In those days, when individual ambition was often bound by the iron will of the State, such a dream was not a private fancy but a quiet rebellion, a seed planted in stony soil that still dared to grow. Bubka’s words remind us that even under heavy skies, the heart of man can long for freedom, creation, and legacy.

To create a sports club in the rigid framework of the Soviet Union was to attempt more than building walls and fields. It was to carve out a sanctuary where passion might flourish, where the youth could stretch their bodies and souls beyond the dictates of politics. Bubka’s dream was not only to vault higher himself, but to open a gate for others, to give them a place where sweat and discipline could bloom into greatness. His vision was an offering to generations unborn, a way of saying: “Here, within these grounds, let strength, courage, and spirit find a home.”

Consider how many times in history a single man’s dream has ignited a movement. When Pierre de Coubertin envisioned the revival of the Olympic Games, it was dismissed by many as fanciful nostalgia. Yet from that dream, nations gathered in peace, and the world was reminded of unity through sport. Bubka’s vision echoes this same eternal truth: that the dream of one can become the strength of many. Just as Coubertin’s Olympics rose from a whisper of an idea, so Bubka’s dream of a sports club carried the potential to forge champions and inspire a people.

And yet, this was not an easy dream. In the Soviet era, where every institution was watched, where resources were rationed, and where personal initiatives often met with suspicion, to speak of creating such a club required courage. It meant facing bureaucracy, doubt, and resistance. The greatness of Bubka’s statement lies in its simplicity: “It was my dream.” A dream that might have been crushed by conformity, but instead, it endured. Like the pole vaulter himself, who hurled his body skyward over bar after bar, this dream rose against the gravity of circumstance.

We see in this story a pattern that repeats through the ages. The Roman general Scipio Africanus once dreamt not merely of defending Rome, but of carrying the war into Carthage itself. Many called him mad, yet he dared, and in daring, he broke the power of Hannibal. Dreams that seem impossible often prove the most transformative. Bubka’s desire to create a haven for sport was such a dream: audacious in its time, yet life-giving in its legacy.

From these words, the lesson is clear. Dreams are not luxuries to be entertained in moments of idleness; they are compasses, pointing the way toward what must be built, even when the road is hard. To dismiss a dream because of the times is to betray one’s spirit. To pursue it, even in adversity, is to honor the gift of vision bestowed by the soul. Bubka teaches us that to create in the midst of constraint is the highest form of freedom.

So, what must the listeners of this teaching do? First, nurture their dreams in silence and in boldness, knowing that even in hostile soil, roots can take hold. Second, act upon them, for a dream unacted upon becomes a ghost that haunts its keeper. And third, dream for others, not just for oneself. For a vision that uplifts the many will endure long after the dreamer is gone. Just as Bubka sought not only his own glory but the flourishing of others through sport, so too must we seek to create places where future generations may thrive.

Therefore, children of time, when you hear the words, “It was my dream,” let them stir you. Do not be afraid if your dream seems too vast or if the age seems against you. The ancients whisper: greatness often begins with a single heart that refuses to surrender. Be like Bubka—take your pole, plant it deep in the ground, and with all your strength, vault toward the impossible. For in so doing, you do not merely rise—you lift the world with you.