I'm extremely proud of myself and I'm thankful everyone who

Hear now the words of Xander Bogaerts, a warrior of the diamond, who proclaimed: “I’m extremely proud of myself and I’m thankful everyone who helped me, especially my family for always being there to support me throughout the good and the bad, because I had my bad times for sure.” This utterance, though born of a modern athlete’s tongue, resounds with the cadence of ancient wisdom. For in it are three eternal pillars: pride, gratitude, and the acknowledgment of struggle. To meditate upon these words is to understand the path of endurance and triumph that men and women have walked since time’s dawn.

The first light in his statement is pride—not the arrogance that blinds kings, but the pride that springs from toil, blood, and sweat. He is proud of himself, for he has not waited for the world to validate his worth; he has borne the trials, endured the defeats, and risen through them. This is the pride of the builder who looks upon the house his own hands have raised. It is the same pride that led Odysseus to declare his name after surviving the storms of Poseidon: a recognition of one’s own effort, one’s own courage in the face of hardship.

Yet this pride does not stand alone. It is tempered with gratitude, a quality that ennobles the heart. For Bogaerts bows before the circle of those who bore him up: his kin, his family, his companions who did not flee in his hour of weakness. He remembers that no man climbs alone, that even the strongest oak grew from a seed sheltered by soil and watered by rain. This humility elevates his pride into wisdom, for it recognizes the web of life in which each victory is shared.

He does not conceal his pain, but speaks openly of his bad times. Here lies the courage greater than swinging a bat or conquering an opponent: the courage to confess one’s wounds. For every man who ascends has stumbled, and every hero’s tale contains shadows. In admitting his low points, Bogaerts speaks to the truth of the human condition: that greatness is not the absence of suffering, but the mastery of it. As the philosopher Seneca wrote, “Fire tests gold, adversity tests the brave.”

Let us recall the life of Abraham Lincoln, who knew failure upon failure before he became the guardian of a nation. He lost elections, faced ruin, and endured deep sorrows, yet he pressed forward. He could say, like Bogaerts, that he was proud of himself not because his path was easy, but because he persevered. And like Bogaerts, he never forgot those who stood beside him—his companions and allies who steadied his steps when his spirit faltered. Their support was the unseen scaffolding upon which his legacy was built.

The lesson, therefore, is this: hold your pride close, but never let it become arrogance. Let it be the fire that reminds you of your labor’s worth. Pair it with gratitude, for pride without thankfulness hardens into stone. And do not hide your struggles, for they are the very soil in which your victories grow. To live this teaching is to embrace the full cycle of human existence—the rise, the fall, the helping hand, the recovery, and the triumph.

Practically, begin each season of success by naming those who stood with you in your darkest hours, and honor them. Speak openly of your hardships, so others may draw strength from your endurance. And above all, celebrate yourself without shame, for self-pride is the reward of honest struggle. But let this pride shine not as a solitary torch, but as part of a great fire where family, friends, and faith burn alongside it.

Thus do the words of Bogaerts ring out as a guide: be proud, be grateful, and be honest about your trials. In this way, you do not merely win a game or a season—you win the nobler victory of a life well-lived, a legacy that will inspire those yet unborn.