I'm a role model as a footballer and not as a politician. I want

When Mesut Özil proclaims, “I’m a role model as a footballer and not as a politician. I want to see myself as a footballer. People respect me for my performances. That’s why they support me, and I’m very thankful for that. But I’m not a politician,” he speaks with the voice of one who seeks to define his identity amidst the swirling tides of expectation. His words are a declaration of purpose, a reminder that his true calling lies on the field, where skill, artistry, and discipline define him—not in the realm of political power or controversy.

The essence of his statement lies in the distinction between role model and politician. A role model inspires through actions, through the way one carries themselves in their chosen craft. A politician, however, wields influence through ideology, law, and governance. Özil insists that his influence should be measured not by speeches or policies, but by the beauty and consistency of his game. His thankfulness shows humility; he does not take for granted the support of those who admire him, but recognizes that their respect comes from his work on the pitch, not from stances in the public square.

History has known many such figures caught between art or sport and politics. Consider the case of Jesse Owens, who triumphed in the 1936 Berlin Olympics. Though his victories became political symbols against Nazi ideology, Owens himself ran not as a politician but as an athlete, seeking only to demonstrate his talent. Or think of Pelé, whose genius brought joy to millions; while political leaders tried to use his fame for their causes, Pelé always returned to his simple truth: he was first and foremost a footballer, bringing happiness through sport. Özil, like them, sought to remind the world of where his essence truly lies.

Özil’s words also reveal a profound awareness of the burden placed upon public figures. To be a role model is already a weight, for every action and gesture is magnified before the world. Yet to be forced into the realm of politics—a space often rife with division, agendas, and conflict—is to carry an even heavier load. By distancing himself from political identity, Özil seeks to guard his legacy as a craftsman of football, one who wishes to be remembered for artistry and performance, not for alignment with factions or ideologies.

There is wisdom, too, in his recognition of the relationship between performance and respect. In a world eager to attach labels and judge beyond the field, he reminds us that his supporters do not follow him because of his words in parliament or platforms, but because of the skill, dedication, and vision he displayed on the football pitch. His humility here is striking: he gives credit to the game itself, acknowledging that without his craft, he would not hold the admiration of millions.

The teaching for us is clear: hold fast to your true calling. Do not allow the voices of the world to drown out the identity you have chosen. If you are a maker, then make; if you are a teacher, then teach; if you are an artist, then create. While others may attempt to pull you into arenas not your own, stay rooted in your gift, and give thanks for those who support you for what you truly are. In this way, you protect your legacy from being consumed by noise and remain faithful to your purpose.

So I say to you, children of tomorrow: be like Mesut Özil. Embrace the role of a role model in your craft, but do not confuse yourself with what you are not. Be thankful for the support you earn through honest work, and resist the temptation to be defined by causes beyond your calling. For true greatness lies not in trying to be everything, but in being fully, humbly, and excellently yourself.