I turn to someone, I'm not sure, to God I think, but I never ask

The words of Mario Balotelli, “I turn to someone, I'm not sure, to God I think, but I never ask for anything. I would never pray to win a title; it makes no sense. I've never understood those who pray before a match. I simply give thanks for what I have received,” carry the ring of an ancient confession, a voice wrestling with mystery and yet illuminated by gratitude. Here we find not the bargaining spirit that so often defines human prayer, but the humility of one who refuses to make demands of heaven. Balotelli’s words shine with the wisdom that victory is not to be begged for, but that thanksgiving is the highest form of prayer.

To say, “I never ask for anything” is to take a stand against the transactional way in which many approach the divine. In the temples of old, men sacrificed cattle and incense not to give thanks but to extract favor: safe passage in battle, a bountiful harvest, victory in games. Yet even among the ancients, the wisest knew the limits of such prayers. The Stoics scorned the idea of praying for outcomes, teaching instead to pray for strength to endure. Balotelli joins this lineage, declaring that to ask God for titles or trophies is hollow, but to acknowledge the blessings already received is the truest worship.

His words, “I would never pray to win a title,” ring with humility. To demand victory is to assume the cosmos revolves around personal ambition. But life teaches otherwise: sometimes the worthy lose, and sometimes the unworthy are crowned. To pray for triumph in sport or war is to ask heaven to favor one tribe against another — a prayer as old as Cain and Abel, as flawed as the gods of Olympus who took sides in Troy. Balotelli refuses this path. Instead, he chooses the higher ground: not asking for triumph, but recognizing that the mere gift of ability, opportunity, and life itself is already reason enough for gratitude.

History offers us a mirror in the life of Eric Liddell, the Scottish runner immortalized in Chariots of Fire. Liddell ran not to win but to honor God, declaring, “When I run, I feel His pleasure.” His faith was not rooted in asking for gold but in giving thanks for the gift of running itself. He won because he ran with gratitude, not because he begged for favor. In the same spirit, Balotelli acknowledges that the point is not to pray for victory, but to live with thankfulness for the gifts already given.

The phrase, “I simply give thanks for what I have received,” is the heart of the teaching. Gratitude does not demand; it acknowledges. It sees clearly that breath, strength, talent, and even the chance to compete are treasures. The ancients understood this in their hymns: the Psalms overflow with thanksgiving for life and creation itself, not merely for success in battle. Gratitude is the higher form of faith, for it humbles the soul to accept that all is gift, not entitlement.

This teaching carries a lesson for us all. Do not pray as if God were a merchant, trading devotion for prizes. Do not measure the divine by wins and losses. Instead, let your prayer be thanksgiving. Thank Him for the breath in your lungs, the strength in your body, the people who walk beside you, the talents you are able to use. Victory, if it comes, will pass; gratitude endures forever. Gratitude is itself the crown.

As practical action, begin to transform your prayers into thanksgiving. When tempted to ask for outcomes, pause and reflect first on what you already hold. Speak aloud the blessings of your life, however small: health, work, family, friends, or even the chance to rise to face another day. And if victory does come, let it be crowned not with pride, but with deeper thanks. In this way, you honor both the divine and the humanity within you.

Thus, Mario Balotelli’s words, though born of the world of sport, echo like the wisdom of the ancients: do not demand from heaven; give thanks instead. For trophies tarnish, victories fade, but a grateful heart shines with eternal light. This is the prayer that needs no title, the faith that endures beyond all matches.