I got a scholarship, so I was getting my independence and not

“I got a scholarship, so I was getting my independence and not paying for school. And then here comes the NFL. ‘Now you got an opportunity to get drafted? Guess we’ll do that.’ I did, all right.” Thus spoke John David Washington, a man whose journey from the shadows of legacy to the light of his own making tells the story of ambition, perseverance, and self-discovery. In his words, we hear not the boast of triumph, but the quiet pride of one who earned his freedom through discipline and resolve. This is the voice of a man who refused to live on inheritance alone — who sought, instead, to forge his own path through sweat, sacrifice, and the unrelenting pursuit of independence.

To understand the meaning of his words, one must see the life that shaped them. Born into the luminous world of Hollywood, the son of the legendary Denzel Washington, John David could easily have drifted upon the current of his father’s success. Yet within him stirred a different calling — not for the stage, but for the field. Football, with its rigor, its pain, its raw measure of effort and endurance, became his proving ground. When he earned his scholarship to Morehouse College, it was more than a financial gift; it was liberation. That scholarship was his declaration to the world and to himself that his life would not be borrowed, but built. It was the first step in his long march toward self-mastery.

And then, as he tells it, destiny knocked once more — this time, in the form of the NFL. To the untrained ear, his words might seem casual, even lighthearted: “Guess we’ll do that.” But beneath the modest tone lies a deeper truth — the confidence of a man prepared for his moment. For every athlete knows that such an opportunity is not granted lightly. It comes only to those who have endured the long grind of unseen hours, the aches of failure, the loneliness of training. The draft was not luck; it was the harvest of countless days sown in dedication. And when he says, “I did, all right,” it is the humble sigh of a man who has climbed one mountain and sees, beyond it, another still higher.

The ancients would have called such a journey the path of arete — the pursuit of excellence not for glory, but for the fulfillment of one’s potential. Like the young warrior who trains in silence, honing his craft while others sleep, Washington sought not fame, but growth. He reminds us that independence is not given by circumstance or birth, but earned through effort. The scholarship freed his wallet; the game freed his will. In the fire of challenge, he discovered the essence of freedom — not the freedom to do as one pleases, but the freedom to become what one must.

Consider the story of Marcus Aurelius, emperor and philosopher of Rome, who was born into immense privilege yet chose a life of service and self-discipline. Surrounded by luxury, he trained his mind as a soldier trains his body, saying, “Waste no more time arguing what a good man should be. Be one.” Like Washington, Aurelius knew that greatness inherited is hollow, but greatness earned — that is eternal. For both men, independence was not a gift, but a task — the ceaseless work of aligning one’s strength with one’s purpose.

Washington’s story did not end on the field. When injury forced him to leave the NFL, he faced once again the test of the self-made man: to begin anew. Many would have surrendered to bitterness or nostalgia, but he turned instead to the craft of acting, the very world from which he once sought distance. Yet this time he entered it not as a son following his father’s footsteps, but as a man with his own foundation — one built on grit, humility, and resilience. His performance in films like BlacKkKlansman and Tenet would prove that the discipline of sport had prepared him for the stage of life itself.

Thus, the lesson of his words is clear: independence is the child of responsibility. We gain freedom not by avoiding struggle, but by embracing it. Every act of perseverance — every late night of study, every early morning of labor, every silent moment of doubt overcome — builds the fortress of the self. To live freely, one must first learn to carry the weight of one’s own effort. As John David Washington shows, the true reward of success is not fame or wealth, but the knowledge that what you have, you have earned.

So, my child of ambition and promise, take heed: the world will offer you comforts, but comfort dulls the edge of greatness. Seek instead the path of discipline and self-reliance. Earn your independence one act of courage at a time. Whether your field is sport, art, study, or life itself, meet each challenge with the steady resolve of one who builds rather than borrows. For when the moment comes — when opportunity calls as it did for Washington — you will not shrink, nor boast, but smile quietly and say, “Guess we’ll do that.” And in that simple confidence lies the heart of freedom.