Motivational talks are something I have been asked to do and i

In the words of George Groves, the fighter who once stood in the ring with courage blazing in his eyes, we hear a turning of spirit: “Motivational talks are something I have been asked to do and I fancy taking a crack at it.” This statement is more than a passing thought. It is the echo of a warrior who, having tasted battle and endured its lessons, feels called to speak to others, to pass down not only the scars of defeat but the wisdom of endurance. For the ancients held this truth: when a man has fought and survived, his duty is not only to himself, but also to those who walk the road behind him.

When Groves speaks of motivational talks, he reveals a profound transformation. Once, his voice was used only in the roar of combat, his body delivering blows, his will carrying him to victory. But after the battle, when the gloves are hung and the crowd’s cheer fades, what remains is the story—the journey, the discipline, the falls, and the rise again. This is what others now ask him to share. It is not his fists they seek, but his words. For words spoken by one who has lived through fire strike deeper than words read from a page.

History shows us many who walked this path. Think of Cicero, the Roman orator. He was not merely a speaker by birth, but a man shaped by strife, by political battles and personal danger. His speeches carried power not because they were polished alone, but because they carried the weight of a life lived in struggle. So too does Groves discover that the battles he fought in silence—the training, the discipline, the resilience in the face of pain—now make his words a torch for others. To give a motivational talk is to become a guide, showing others that they too may endure.

There is also humility in his phrase, “I fancy taking a crack at it.” This is no boast, but the spirit of one willing to step into a new arena. The ancients would praise this, for they taught that life is not a single calling but a series of seasons. The warrior becomes teacher, the sailor becomes storyteller, the aged king becomes wise counselor. Just as Odysseus, after long wandering, told tales that stirred the hearts of others, so Groves sees in himself the chance to give back not with punches, but with words that heal and inspire.

The meaning, then, is that we are all called, at some point, to turn our struggles into stories, our scars into lessons. To keep them hidden is to waste them, but to speak them aloud is to give others the gift of courage. Groves does not say he has mastered this art—he only says he is willing. That willingness is itself the beginning of greatness. For every act of teaching begins with the decision to share, and every legacy begins with the courage to speak.

Let us consider the lesson for ourselves. Each of us carries battles within—hardships, victories, losses, and recoveries. These are not meant to be buried. They are meant to be shared, not in arrogance but in generosity. If a boxer like George Groves can transform his trials into words of strength for others, so can you. The world thirsts not for perfection, but for honesty. It needs men and women who will rise and say: “I have fought, I have fallen, I have risen—and so can you.”

Practical action lies before you. Begin by reflecting on your own struggles. Write them down. Ask yourself what they taught you. Then, when the time comes, do not be silent. Share them with a friend, with a child, with a stranger who needs hope. You need not speak from a stage to give a motivational talk; every conversation can be a place of courage. And if ever you are called to stand before many, remember Groves’s example: take a crack at it, for your story may be the spark that lights another soul.

Thus, Groves’s words remind us of an eternal law: the warrior’s final duty is not only to fight, but to teach. And so it must be with us all—our lives are not only for ourselves, but for those who will hear our stories and find in them the strength to continue their own. Speak your truth, for silence buries wisdom, but speech multiplies it for generations to come.