I love sports. I've played basketball, baseball, soccer, tennis

Hear the voice of Michael B. Jordan, not the actor clothed in fame, but the child who once ran across fields, courts, and tracks, saying: “I love sports. I’ve played basketball, baseball, soccer, tennis, track and field growing up.” These words seem plain at first, the memory of a boy’s games. Yet within them lies the deeper wisdom of growth, the shaping of character through many trials, and the spirit of play that prepares one for the battles of life.

When he says, “I love sports,” he speaks not of one discipline, but of all. His love was not confined to a single game, nor bound by narrowness of choice. He sought strength in the basketball court, patience on the baseball diamond, endurance on the track, agility in soccer, and focus in tennis. Each sport gave him not only skill, but lessons of the spirit: teamwork, resilience, discipline, and courage. In this way, his youth was not wasted in distraction, but sharpened by diversity, as iron sharpens iron.

This love of many games reflects the ancient truth: that the body and soul are best trained through variety. The Greeks, who first honored the Olympics, did not ask their athletes to master only one event. The pentathlete was praised above all, for he ran, wrestled, jumped, threw discus and javelin, showing not narrow strength but balance, wholeness, and versatility. So too did Jordan’s youth mirror that ideal: to grow in many ways, to be tested on many fields, to prepare not only for sport but for life itself.

Consider the tale of Jim Thorpe, the great Native American athlete, who mastered both track and field and the games of baseball and football. His greatness did not lie in one arena, but in his ability to excel wherever he stepped. Though his times were marked by injustice, his legacy remains: the proof that to love many sports is to embrace many forms of strength. Michael B. Jordan’s words carry this same echo: that the richness of play prepares a person for whatever challenges the world may throw.

The deeper meaning of his memory is this: youth is a time of exploration, and through that exploration, foundations are laid for the future. For Jordan, the lessons of the field would later serve him in the theater of acting. The discipline of training, the resilience after loss, the courage to face a crowd—these are not only the qualities of athletes but of leaders, artists, and heroes. Thus, his love for sports was more than recreation; it was initiation, the apprenticeship of his character.

The lesson for us is clear: do not narrow yourself too soon. Do not cling to one path while neglecting the others that may sharpen you. Explore, test, and try. For each skill, each discipline, each game gives you something you may not see until later in life. Like Jordan, you may one day look back and realize that the many roads of your youth were all preparing you for the great journey ahead.

The practical action is this: encourage variety in your life and in the lives of the young. If you play one game, try another. If you master one skill, step into the unknown and learn a new one. Carry forward the spirit of the track, the court, the field, the diamond, and the net. Let your days be filled with learning, your body with discipline, and your spirit with joy. For in this way, when destiny calls, you will not come unprepared—you will come carrying the strength of many worlds.

Thus, Jordan’s words, though light with the tone of memory, are heavy with truth. They remind us that greatness is rarely born from a single discipline, but from the weaving together of many. To love sports, to love variety, is to love the fullness of life itself. And in that fullness lies the making of heroes.