I watched the guy that hits a home run, and he comes across the

“I watched the guy that hits a home run, and he comes across the plate and he points skyward, like thanking for the help from the Almighty to hit the home run. And as he does that, I say to myself, ‘God screwed the pitcher.’ And I don’t know how else you look at it.” Thus spoke Bobby Knight, the fierce and fiery coach, whose wisdom was often clothed in humor and blunt honesty. Beneath the sharpness of his words lies a deep meditation on perspective, humility, and the nature of fairness. His jest cuts through the easy assumptions of triumph and faith to reveal a paradox that has haunted humanity since the dawn of belief: if divine favor blesses one, does it not also condemn another? In this one remark, half laughter and half lament, Knight speaks to the ancient struggle between grace and justice, between human victory and divine will.

In the modern spectacle of sports, as in the contests of old, we often see the victor raise his hands to heaven, claiming divine partnership in success. The home-run hitter, flush with glory, points skyward in gratitude to God, as though the hand of the Eternal had guided his swing. But Knight, with the clear eyes of a philosopher disguised as a coach, reminds us of the unseen side of that moment: the pitcher, defeated, humiliated, standing upon the same earth beneath the same heaven. If the Almighty favored one, did He not forsake the other? Thus, the coach’s jest carries a sacred skepticism—an invitation to humility. For when we claim that heaven is on our side, we forget that heaven belongs to all, not merely to the victors.

In ancient times, the same question echoed in the halls of kings and the hearts of peasants. The Greeks, in their tragedies, wrestled with this divine duality. When Achilles triumphed in battle, did the gods not abandon Hector, who fought no less bravely? When Alexander conquered nations, were the conquered less beloved by the divine? The old poets knew what Knight observed with humor: that if the gods take sides, they make mockery of justice. Therefore, the wise learned to thank the heavens not for victory, but for the strength to endure both triumph and defeat. For the true measure of faith is not found in moments of glory, but in the steadiness of the soul when fortune turns.

Consider also the story of Abraham Lincoln, a man burdened by the weight of civil war. When his advisors declared that God must surely be on the side of the Union, Lincoln replied, “My concern is not whether God is on our side; my greatest concern is to be on God’s side.” In that answer lies the same wisdom hidden in Bobby Knight’s jest. The divine is not a weapon to be claimed by the victorious, nor a charm against failure—it is a mystery that transcends the scoreboard of men. To say that God helped one to hit a home run is to forget that He also crafted the hand that threw the ball. The Eternal is not a fan of one team or another; He is the silent witness to all striving, all hope, all loss.

Knight’s humor also exposes the folly of human pride. How often do we claim that our successes are signs of divine approval, while dismissing our failures as mere misfortune? Yet, in truth, both victory and defeat are teachers sent by the same unseen hand. The pitcher learns humility and patience; the batter learns gratitude and restraint. The wise understand that neither condition is permanent, for today’s winner may be tomorrow’s loser, and both stand equal beneath the sky. Knight’s sarcasm, therefore, is not mockery of faith, but a reminder that faith without humility becomes arrogance.

This lesson, though born in the arena of sport, applies to every field of human endeavor. In the marketplace, the artist’s studio, the battlefield, and the home, men and women are tempted to claim divine favor for their victories. Yet the truth is simpler, and deeper: the divine gives not outcomes, but opportunities—the chance to act nobly, to strive courageously, to accept both success and failure with grace. What matters is not whether we win or lose, but whether we play our part with integrity, compassion, and respect for those who stand across from us.

So, my children of the striving world, take this teaching into your heart: when you triumph, do not boast that heaven has chosen you; when you fail, do not curse that heaven has abandoned you. Give thanks instead for the strength to stand and try, for the courage to compete, for the spirit that endures both praise and defeat. Remember that the same sky that shines upon the victor also shelters the fallen. True greatness lies not in the home run, but in the fairness of the game, and in the humility to honor every player—batter and pitcher alike—as a child of the same divine light.

Thus, Bobby Knight, in his humor, speaks the wisdom of the ancients: that the divine is not a trophy for the triumphant, but a mystery for the humble. The wise man sees the sacred not in his success, but in his struggle, not in his winning, but in his willingness to keep playing, with grace, honesty, and heart. For in the end, it is not the swing or the pitch that matters, but the spirit that guides them both beneath the watchful eyes of heaven.