I've been very fortunate. I feel very thankful. I've been able

Roger Clemens, the fiery pitcher whose arm thundered across decades, once spoke with humility: “I’ve been very fortunate. I feel very thankful. I’ve been able to come home and do some fun things and make it exciting for people here at home.” In this reflection, we hear not the roar of the stadium nor the boasting of one who conquered, but the quiet reverence of a man who recognizes that fortune is a gift, not an entitlement. His words remind us that the true measure of success is not only what one achieves on the grand stage, but what one brings back to the place called home.

To say, “I’ve been very fortunate,” is to acknowledge that fate and blessing walk hand in hand with effort. Clemens trained his body, honed his craft, and endured the fires of competition, yet he knew well that such greatness could not be explained by will alone. Opportunity, health, mentors, and the support of family and community were threads in the fabric of his triumph. His thankfulness is an admission that no man, however great, stands alone at the summit—each is lifted by unseen hands.

The ancients themselves honored such recognition. The Greeks believed that hubris—forgetting the role of fortune and the gods—was the downfall of many heroes. Achilles, though invincible, met his end through arrogance. Odysseus, though clever, suffered when he boasted against Poseidon. In contrast, Clemens embodies the humility of one who remembers that to be fortunate is not the mark of superiority, but the blessing of circumstance. Gratitude protects the soul from hubris, just as armor shields the body in battle.

When Clemens speaks of coming home to bring joy to his people, he echoes an ancient rhythm. The warrior who fought abroad would return to his village, not only with spoils of victory but with stories and deeds that gave pride to his people. The Roman general celebrated his triumph not in solitude but in the streets of Rome, lifting the hearts of those who had waited through the long campaigns. In the same way, Clemens finds joy not only in victory itself but in the act of sharing it, of making it exciting for the people at home who had supported him from the beginning.

History offers many examples of such gratitude. Consider Jackie Robinson, who not only broke barriers in baseball but carried the pride of an entire people with him. His achievements were not his alone—they were a beacon to those who had long been denied recognition. When Clemens speaks of bringing excitement to those at home, he participates in this same spirit: the recognition that personal success becomes truly meaningful when it uplifts others.

The lesson is clear: fortune is sweetest when it is shared, and success is fullest when it returns home. To be thankful is not merely to say words, but to act—bringing joy, hope, and inspiration to those whose love and support shaped you. We must never forget our roots, for it is from them that we draw strength, and to them that we owe our gratitude.

Practical action follows: remember your beginnings and invest in them. Whatever heights you climb, do not hoard the fruits of success but let them nourish your family, your community, your people. Give back, whether through time, kindness, or inspiration. Celebrate not only in far-off places, but in the fields and neighborhoods where your journey began. In this way, like Clemens, you will not only be a champion in skill but a champion in spirit.

Thus, Roger Clemens’s words stand as a teaching for generations: to be fortunate is a blessing, to be thankful is wisdom, and to bring honor and joy home is the highest calling of success. For greatness, when returned to its roots, becomes eternal.