I love movies, of course. 'Terminator 3' and 'Bad Boys II' -

The words of Sergio Garcia may seem at first casual, even playful: “I love movies, of course. ‘Terminator 3’ and ‘Bad Boys II’—lots of action. Sports movies, action movies, comedies—I’ll go to those, but not ‘las de amor.’ Not romance. It’s not that I don’t like love, but on the screen it bores me.” Yet beneath this confession lies a reflection on character, passion, and the nature of what stirs the human heart. For what one chooses to watch, to admire, to fill the mind with, often reveals what one values most in life.

Garcia declares his love for action and sport, stories of contest, struggle, and triumph. To him, these are not mere entertainments, but echoes of the life he himself leads. As an athlete forged in competition, he is drawn to films that mirror the tension of the arena, the clash of wills, the sudden turns of fortune. Such movies do not lull the spirit but awaken it, reminding the viewer of courage, resilience, and the thrill of battle. In this, Garcia shows us that our tastes often align with our lives, and that what excites the soul is often what reflects our deepest struggles.

He distances himself from romance films, not because he rejects love itself, but because their portrayal fails to capture his passion. Love, in real life, is sacred and profound—but love as scripted drama leaves him restless. He craves stories where risk is high, where sweat and struggle determine victory. Here we see the athlete’s spirit: he desires not passive sweetness, but the sharp edge of conflict and the proof of strength. To him, a tale must feel alive, unpredictable, like a match whose ending no one knows until the final blow is struck.

This preference is not unique to Garcia. Consider the ancient Greeks, who gave birth to both tragedy and comedy but honored above all the epic tales of heroes—Achilles at Troy, Odysseus at sea. These were the “action films” of their day: stories of combat, endurance, and cunning. While love had its place in the sagas, it was always interwoven with conflict, with destiny, with the tests that defined greatness. Thus Garcia stands in a long tradition of those who seek stories that stir the blood rather than lull the heart.

We may also recall Muhammad Ali, who once said he found more poetry in the ring than in the quiet arts of romance. For him, the fight itself was beauty, the movement of body and spirit locked in contest. In the same way, Garcia reveals through his movie tastes that for some souls, action itself is the highest poetry. It is not the rejection of love, but the elevation of struggle as the truest mirror of life.

The lesson is this: each of us must be attentive to the stories we choose to dwell in. They shape our thoughts, our desires, our vision of what life is about. If we fill our minds with emptiness, we drift toward emptiness. If we fill them with struggle, courage, and victory, we prepare our hearts for the battles of our own lives. Garcia reminds us that what we seek in art reflects what we seek in life.

Therefore, children of tomorrow, ask yourselves: What stories stir your soul? Do not be ashamed if they differ from the multitude, for they are the compass of your spirit. Some will find meaning in romance, others in comedy, still others in tales of war or sport. What matters is that your chosen stories awaken you, that they call you to live more fully, not sleep more soundly. For stories are not mere pastimes—they are food for the soul.

Thus Sergio Garcia’s words, light though they seem, teach us this enduring truth: honor the stories that give you strength. Seek out the tales that ignite your heart and prepare you for life’s contest. For in what you watch, what you admire, and what you cherish, there lies the seed of who you will become.