I remember the day I met Cammi Granato, a former star on the

The words of Julie Foudy—“I remember the day I met Cammi Granato, a former star on the U.S. women's hockey team. We were at a Women's Sports Foundation dinner in 1996, and she came over to introduce herself. She had watched the U.S. women's soccer team win gold at the Atlanta Olympics and was hopeful the U.S. women's hockey team could do the same.”—are more than a memory. They are a flame passed between two champions, a sacred moment where inspiration leapt from one sport to another, from one dreamer to the next. In this recollection we see the eternal power of example, the way one victory awakens hope in another, the way triumph becomes a torch that lights the path for others yet to rise.

Here, Foudy recalls her own team’s triumph, the gold of Atlanta 1996, when the U.S. women’s soccer team stood as pioneers, shattering barriers for women in sport. That victory was not theirs alone. It was a signal, a declaration, that women could command the world’s stage with grace and power equal to any. And Granato, a warrior of the ice, looked upon that moment not with envy, but with resolve: “If they could achieve this, so too can we.” This is the root of progress—not isolated victories, but victories that echo, multiplying courage across generations and disciplines.

The ancients, too, knew this truth. One runner’s triumph at Olympia did not end in himself, but inspired his polis, his people, his brothers and sons to train harder, to believe more deeply. In Rome, when gladiators broke their chains and claimed freedom, they did not rise alone; their defiance gave courage to others to imagine liberty. So too, in this moment between Foudy and Granato, we see that the triumph of one becomes the seed of hope in another.

History confirms this wisdom again and again. When Jackie Robinson broke through the barriers of baseball, he did not lift only himself—he lifted countless others who saw in his courage the possibility of their own. When Wilma Rudolph sprinted to gold despite the scars of childhood polio, she inspired not only runners but all who doubted the strength of the human spirit. In the same way, the sight of Foudy’s soccer team raising their medals stirred Granato to believe that women’s hockey could seize its own day of glory. And indeed, in 1998, Granato and her team triumphed in Nagano, winning gold and etching their names into history.

The emotional weight of Foudy’s memory is this: greatness is never solitary. It ripples outward, touching lives unseen, building bridges across boundaries of sport, culture, and time. Granato’s hope was born from Foudy’s victory, and her own victory later became hope for others still to come. In this way, each achievement becomes part of a chain, an unbroken lineage of courage passed down through the ages.

For the seeker of wisdom, the lesson is clear: your actions, your triumphs, your resilience are not yours alone. They are torches that may ignite fire in others you do not even know. Live, therefore, with the awareness that your victories can become the soil in which another’s dreams take root. Do not think your striving is insignificant, for unseen eyes may be watching, and hearts may be stirred by your example.

What then must we do? Strive with courage not only for yourself, but for those who may come after you. Celebrate the victories of others, knowing they widen the horizon for all. When you succeed, know that you are holding a torch—lift it high so others can see. And when you behold another’s triumph, do not envy, but let it awaken in you the hunger to rise higher, to add your voice to the chorus of courage.

Thus, Julie Foudy’s words remind us: the triumph of one can awaken the triumph of many. A gold medal may be worn by an individual, but its radiance belongs to a generation. So live, strive, and achieve, not for yourself alone, but for the countless souls who may one day look upon your story and whisper, “If they could do it, so can I.”