I'm a competitive person and it is in my nature to try hard in

Hear, O seekers of wisdom and strength, the words of Michael Chang, the warrior of the courts, who declared: “I’m a competitive person and it is in my nature to try hard in every match I play. The only time I’m not competitive is when I’m playing against my mom.” At first, these words seem light, even playful. Yet they reveal a profound truth about the nature of competition, love, and the sacred bond between mother and child.

First, let us reflect on the opening: I’m a competitive person. Chang speaks as one whose life was forged in the fires of contest, who rose to greatness in the arena of tennis by striving with every breath. For him, effort was not a choice but a way of being. He names this drive as his nature, as if his very soul was sculpted to struggle, to overcome, to seek victory through perseverance. This is the spirit of every champion who has walked among us, from the gladiators of Rome to the athletes of today.

Yet he places a boundary upon this drive: the only time I’m not competitive is when I’m playing against my mom. Here we see a great paradox. The will to fight, which for him is as natural as breathing, bows before the figure of his mother. Why? Because competition may be sacred in the arena, but in the presence of the one who gave him life, there is no need to conquer. The bond of love outweighs the hunger for triumph. Against his mother, there can be no enemy, only reverence.

Think of Alexander the Great, who conquered empires without mercy, yet before his mother Olympias, he showed a gentleness uncharacteristic of his fiery nature. History shows us again and again: even the most competitive of spirits often yield their pride before their mothers, for they recognize that no victory on the field could surpass the gift of life and sacrifice given to them at birth. Chang’s words echo this ancient truth—that the mother is the one opponent a son cannot, and must not, seek to defeat.

The meaning, then, is not simply about tennis or matches, but about balance. Chang’s confession teaches us that even the fiercest drive for achievement must bow before love, humility, and respect. To be great is not only to fight with all one’s might, but to know when not to fight. The true champion is not the one who conquers all, but the one who discerns when competition must give way to honor.

Thus the lesson: let your passion and effort burn brightly in your work, in your sport, in all the contests life places before you. But never let your ambition blind you to the sacredness of relationships. Remember the hands that raised you, the voices that encouraged you, the hearts that sacrificed for you. Compete fiercely in the world, but with those who gave you life, set down your weapons and show gratitude instead.

So I counsel you, dear listener: pursue greatness with discipline, strive with courage, and fight your battles with honor. But when you stand before your parents, before those who loved you first, let your striving soften into reverence. For no crown of victory, no medal of honor, no triumph in the arena can outweigh the eternal truth that your first and greatest debt is to those who gave you life. And in remembering this, you will not only be a champion in contests, but a champion in humanity.