I will always be grateful to Zidane. In every moment he was with

Hear the words of Keylor Navas, spoken not only as a warrior of the field but as a humble man of heart: “I will always be grateful to Zidane. In every moment he was with me, in the good times we enjoyed together, he gave me advice and he always welcomed me with a smile.” These words, though gentle, carry the weight of an eternal truth: that greatness is not measured only in victories, but in the generosity of spirit with which one treats others. In the halls of power and the arenas of fame, it is rare to find a leader whose strength shines equally in counsel and in kindness. Yet Navas, in his testimony, shows that Zidane was such a leader.

The smile in his remembrance is no small thing. It was not the smile of politeness, nor the mask of a public figure. It was the smile that says, You are welcome here, you belong, I see you. For Navas, who bore the weight of scrutiny as goalkeeper of one of the world’s greatest clubs, that smile was more than comfort—it was a shield against doubt, a reminder that even under the fiercest pressure, he was not alone. This is the heart of leadership: to offer strength not only through words, but through the radiance of presence.

The ancients knew this lesson well. Alexander the Great was revered not only for his conquests but for the way he remembered the names of his soldiers, greeting them with warmth even as he led them into peril. Marcus Aurelius, emperor and philosopher, wrote of how small gestures of respect and kindness by his teachers shaped him more deeply than armies or titles. So too does Zidane’s advice and his open welcome embody the timeless principle: that a leader must lift others, not by force alone, but by the steady hand of encouragement and the light of a smile.

History gives us yet another mirror in Abraham Lincoln, who in the midst of civil war bore the weight of a fractured nation. His cabinet often described how he tempered harsh meetings with humor and a kindly tone, softening conflict with humanity. His advice and presence, much like Zidane’s for Navas, reminded those who served under him that leadership could coexist with humility, and that greatness could walk hand in hand with compassion.

Navas’s gratitude is also a teaching for us all. For it is easy to remember the victories of life, but far harder to remember the faces who stood beside us with kindness during those victories. Gratitude elevates memory—it turns a fleeting smile into a lasting legacy. By speaking thus of Zidane, Navas honors not only his coach, but the bond between men who shared triumphs not as individuals, but as companions bound by trust.

And yet, the story is not only about them. It is a call for all of us, in whatever fields we walk. To be like Zidane is to be more than skilled, more than wise; it is to be present with others in such a way that they leave strengthened, carrying with them the warmth of your counsel and the reassurance of your smile. In homes, in schools, in workplaces, the same law holds: leadership is not titles and crowns, but the daily gift of humanity.

Therefore, O listener, take this lesson to heart: give your advice freely, not to control, but to guide. Offer your smile generously, for you know not how deeply it may heal. And when you share in the victories of life, do not claim them as your own, but as joys to be multiplied by the company of others. For in the end, as Keylor Navas reminds us, true gratitude is born not of what we achieve, but of who walked with us along the path, lifting us when the weight grew heavy.

Thus the words of Navas, honoring Zidane, become words for all ages: that greatness is not the roar of conquest, but the quiet strength of one who offers wisdom with kindness, and who welcomes others not with judgment, but with a smile. And such a legacy endures longer than trophies, for it is written not in stone, but in the hearts of men.