I never use the word 'hero' in sports. Hero is way above 'star.'

The words of Bud Grant carry the gravity of a man who lived long among warriors of the field and yet never confused the field of sport with the battlefield of life. “I never use the word hero in sports. Hero is way above star. I save star for sports. Sports is entertainment; that’s all it is.” In this utterance lies a wisdom drawn not from disdain for games, but from a deep reverence for the true weight of human struggle. For Grant, the spectacle of football was not to be dismissed, but it was never to be exalted above the sacred deeds of those who endure real peril for others.

The ancients would say: a star may shine in the sky, but a hero lights the path through darkness. Stars delight the eyes; heroes preserve the soul of the people. To call an athlete a hero is to mistake triumph in play for triumph over death. Sports are battles without blood, dances of strength where defeat brings no graves. The hero, however, is he or she who walks into danger, who sacrifices comfort, limb, or life for the good of others. Such a distinction is no insult to the athlete—it is, instead, an honoring of the sacredness of sacrifice.

Consider the men who stormed the beaches of Normandy in the Second World War. They were not playing before cheering crowds; they advanced beneath the hail of bullets, uncertain if they would ever see another sunrise. No trophy awaited them, no contract, no applause—only the hope of freeing a world shackled by tyranny. Such souls deserve the mantle of hero. To confuse their sacrifice with the game-winning shot or the last-second touchdown would be to lessen the weight of their burden.

Yet, within sports, the word star shines true. The athlete inspires, delights, and entertains. Jesse Owens, running before hostile eyes in Berlin, became more than a champion—he was a symbol of dignity rising against hatred. Though he bore the qualities of a hero in moral courage, his stage was still the arena, not the battlefield. He was a star whose brilliance uplifted a weary world. Bud Grant reminds us: let us not dishonor Owens by calling him less than what he was, nor dishonor true heroes by making the words interchangeable.

Sports are, as Grant declares, entertainment. Yet entertainment is not without value. In times of despair, a people gather around a game to remember joy. In times of peace, they test their strength in ritual combat to channel energies that might otherwise turn to war. Stars of the sporting world are not false idols; they are necessary lights that remind us of the beauty of discipline, teamwork, and skill. But their duty is different: they elevate spirits, not societies.

From this truth, a lesson arises: let us be careful with our words. The ancients taught that to name a thing wrongly is to disturb the order of the world. If we give the word hero to those who merely entertain us, then what word remains for the one who carries a wounded comrade from the flames, or for the mother who endures hardship to raise her children? Language must protect the sanctity of honor.

Therefore, remember this teaching: admire the athlete, cheer the star, be moved by the spectacle of the game. But when you speak of the hero, speak with reverence. Save that name for those whose lives are risked or given in the service of others. In your own life, seek not to be a star alone, shining briefly in the eyes of men; strive also to be a hero in small acts of courage, kindness, and sacrifice.

For in the end, when the games are forgotten and the cheers have faded, it is not the entertainment that sustains humanity, but the heroism of those who, unseen and uncelebrated, bore the weight of others. This is the wisdom Bud Grant left us: that we may enjoy our games, but never forget who the true heroes are.