I had dreams of catching the ball for the final out in the World

The words of Robin Yount, spoken with the quiet grace of a man who has known both triumph and the ache of unfulfilled dreams, echo like a bittersweet melody through the halls of human striving: “I had dreams of catching the ball for the final out in the World Series and being mobbed by my teammates. Well, I guess all my dreams didn’t come true.” In these words, there is no bitterness — only the wisdom that comes from a life lived fully, a dream pursued with devotion, and the humility to accept that not all victories wear the crowns we imagine for them. His voice carries the calm of one who has looked upon the distance between dream and reality and found, within that space, peace.

Yount, a Hall of Fame player for the Milwaukee Brewers, was a man of rare talent and quiet strength. For two decades he gave his heart to the game, enduring the grind, the triumphs, the seasons of glory, and the seasons of loss. Yet, though he reached heights that few ever touch, one dream eluded him — that moment of ultimate victory, the final out of the World Series, the joyous rush of teammates in a sea of celebration. And so he speaks, not as one defeated, but as one who has learned that life’s greatest truths often lie not in the fulfillment of dreams, but in the nobility of the pursuit itself.

In ancient times, philosophers spoke of this very truth. Homer’s Odysseus, after years of peril, returned home to Ithaca not as the same man who had left it. His dream had been simple — to return — yet when he finally achieved it, he found that the dream itself had changed him more than its fulfillment ever could. So it is with Yount’s words: the dream may not have come to pass exactly as imagined, but the journey toward it shaped a life of meaning, discipline, and mastery. The wisdom of the ancients whispers through his tone — that the worth of a dream lies not in its completion, but in the character it awakens along the way.

For every soul that dares to dream, there comes a reckoning. Some will see their visions realized in full light, while others, like Yount, will find themselves standing just short of the summit, the world below still vast and beautiful. Yet to those who reach for greatness, even an unfulfilled dream is a victory, for it lifts the heart beyond mediocrity. To dream of catching the ball in the World Series is to believe in the possible, to live with the fire that makes ordinary days sacred. It is this passion, this relentless striving, that makes a life heroic, regardless of the ending.

History offers countless such examples. Think of Vincent van Gogh, whose dream was to express the beauty of the world through color and light. In his lifetime, he sold almost nothing; his name was spoken with pity, not praise. Yet today, his art burns with eternal life, teaching generations that dreams may outlive the dreamer, and that failure, in the eyes of the world, may yet be a kind of transcendence. Like Yount, van Gogh reminds us that what matters is not whether every dream comes true, but whether we dared to dream greatly at all.

There is also a quiet heroism in Yount’s humility — the grace to say, “Well, I guess all my dreams didn’t come true,” without despair, without complaint. Such words are the mark of a mature soul, one who knows that life gives and takes in equal measure, and that the measure of a person is not how many dreams were fulfilled, but how steadfastly they pursued them. The unfulfilled dream is not a failure; it is a teacher. It shows us that happiness does not depend solely on victory, but on gratitude, effort, and the simple joy of participation in the grand game of life.

So, my children, let this be your lesson: pursue your dreams fiercely, but hold them lightly. Let them guide you, but never enslave you. For some will come to pass, and others will fade like mist in the morning sun — yet all will leave their mark upon your soul. Do not weep for the dreams that never came true; instead, give thanks that you were brave enough to dream them. For the true glory is not in the catching of the final ball, but in having played the game with heart, integrity, and love.

Thus, when your own journey nears its twilight, may you, like Robin Yount, be able to smile softly and say, with the quiet dignity of one who lived well: “Well, I guess all my dreams didn’t come true” — and in that gentle acceptance, find that the greatest dream of all did: the dream of a life fully lived.