Luck has nothing to do with it, because I have spent many, many

Hear the words of Serena Williams, warrior of the court and emblem of perseverance: “Luck has nothing to do with it, because I have spent many, many hours, countless hours, on the court working for my one moment in time, not knowing when it would come.” These words rise not as boast, but as a testimony carved from sweat, pain, and unyielding discipline. They proclaim an eternal truth: greatness is not born of chance, but of labor—labor unseen, labor uncelebrated, labor endured when no crowd is watching.

The ancients too knew this truth well. Did not the philosopher Aristotle declare that excellence is not an act, but a habit? Fortune may give opportunities, but only discipline makes one ready to seize them. The athlete who blames or praises luck deceives himself, for the gods of chance smile only upon those who have prepared their hands, their minds, and their spirits. Serena’s words echo this wisdom: the one who works relentlessly, day upon day, hour upon hour, will be ready when the appointed time arrives, even if he knows not when that time will be.

Consider the story of Michelangelo, summoned to paint the Sistine Chapel. Many called his masterpiece a miracle of luck, as though genius had simply flowed without cost. Yet Michelangelo himself groaned under scaffolds for years, laboring in solitude, enduring exhaustion and pain. His “miracle” was nothing more than countless hours of dedication. His story, like Serena’s, reveals the truth: the world often calls it luck, but those who labor know it by its true name—discipline.

Serena Williams herself, from childhood, trained not in luxury but in hardship. On battered courts under the blazing sun, she and her sister Venus struck ball after ball, their father urging them to continue long after weariness had set in. No one saw then the trophies that would come, nor the glory that awaited. Yet those hidden hours, multiplied beyond count, became the foundation of her triumphs. She did not wait for luck to choose her; she carved her destiny with unrelenting practice.

So too must we learn: to place hope in luck is to build on sand. To place hope in preparation is to build on rock. For the moment of opportunity comes without warning. It may arrive tomorrow, or it may delay for years. But when it comes, it will only belong to those who have prepared themselves tirelessly, those who have poured their sweat into unseen hours. The one who waits idly will be unready; the one who labors silently will be victorious.

The lesson is clear: greatness is not granted, it is earned. Do not speak of luck, speak instead of your hours. If you dream of triumph, invest in the daily practice that seems small, yet builds mountains. If you long for your “moment in time,” prepare as though it could come at any hour. For opportunity is like a sudden storm: it tests the house you have already built, not the house you promise to build tomorrow.

Practical wisdom lies before you: choose a goal worthy of your strength. Dedicate yourself daily to its pursuit. Give not only the convenient hours, but also the weary ones, the painful ones, the unseen ones. Do not grow bitter if success delays, for each hour of effort is a stone laid in the fortress of your destiny. Trust that when your moment comes, you will be ready—not because of luck, but because of the labor you have poured into your craft.

Therefore, let Serena’s words burn in your heart: “Luck has nothing to do with it… I have spent countless hours for my one moment in time.” Do likewise in your own life. Cease waiting for fortune to favor you, and instead prepare yourself so that when destiny calls, you may rise without fear, already sharpened, already ready. This is the way of champions, the way of builders, the way of those who leave their mark upon the world.