I love sports. Whenever I can, I always watch the Detroit Tigers

Gerald R. Ford once spoke with warmth and wit: “I love sports. Whenever I can, I always watch the Detroit Tigers on the radio.” Though the words sound playful, even humorous, within them rests a profound reflection on memory, devotion, and the power of imagination. For Ford, who would rise to the highest office in the land, sports were not merely games, but a lifelong love, and the Detroit Tigers were more than a team—they were a link to home, to youth, and to the simple joys that endure even amid the weight of power.

The heart of his saying lies in the paradox of “watching on the radio.” To modern ears, this may sound like a mistake, but in truth, it reveals the strength of the human mind to see beyond what the eyes perceive. For those who grew up before television’s reign, the radio was not merely a device of sound, but a window of the imagination. Each crack of the bat, each roar of the crowd, was painted in vivid color by the mind of the listener. To watch on the radio is to see with the inner eye, to let one’s love transform words into vision, sound into living memory.

Ford’s devotion to the Tigers also reflects the enduring power of sports to anchor identity. Born in Michigan, he carried the pride of his home with him, even into the halls of Washington. In the midst of global crises and heavy responsibilities, he returned in spirit to the ballpark, to the familiar voices of the announcers, to the rhythm of innings played beneath the summer sun. The Tigers were a reminder that beyond the struggles of politics, there are simpler truths—of effort, of competition, of joy in the game.

History gives us many examples of leaders and visionaries who drew strength from the games of their youth. Winston Churchill, amid the dark days of war, often recalled the discipline he had learned from polo and fencing. Theodore Roosevelt spoke of the rugged joy of football and boxing as training for courage in life’s battles. Likewise, Ford, who himself played college football at Michigan, found in his love of the Tigers both a refuge and a reminder: that even presidents are still fans at heart, bound to the teams and traditions that shaped them as boys.

The imagery of watching with the ear also reminds us of the power of imagination and memory in all of life. For life is not lived only by the eyes. Much of what gives us strength comes from within: from memories cherished, from dreams envisioned, from faith unseen. Ford’s phrase reminds us that what we love most does not always require our direct sight—it lives in the heart, and wherever we are, we can carry it with us.

The lesson, then, is clear: never abandon the simple loves that root your soul. Whether it is a team, a song, or a tradition, hold fast to it, for it reminds you of who you are and where you came from. In moments of trial, such loves keep us human, reminding us that even the greatest among us—presidents, generals, philosophers—still draw strength from the games, stories, and rituals of their youth.

So I say to you: let Gerald Ford’s words teach you to cherish your passions. Even if the world seems too heavy, find time to “watch on the radio”—to imagine, to return to your roots, to celebrate the simple joys that make life rich. For in the end, greatness is not found only in the offices we hold or the battles we win, but in the constancy of love, in the loyalty to our beginnings, and in the ability to see with the heart what the eye cannot behold.