Only those who have the courage to take a penalty miss them.

“Only those who have the courage to take a penalty miss them.” Thus spoke Roberto Baggio, the Italian maestro of football, whose words were forged not in victory, but in the agony of defeat. He uttered them not from the summit of triumph, but from the valley of heartbreak, after missing the decisive penalty in the 1994 World Cup Final. Yet in that moment of despair, Baggio revealed a truth that transcends sport—a truth that speaks to the very nature of courage, failure, and human greatness. For in this world, it is only those who dare to act, who risk themselves before the eyes of the world, who may stumble. The coward never fails—but neither does he ever rise.

Baggio’s words are born of experience and humility. He was not excusing his mistake; he was illuminating its meaning. The penalty he missed, watched by millions, became more than a kick—it became a symbol of the human struggle between fear and bravery, perfection and fallibility. When he said, “Only those who have the courage to take a penalty miss them,” he was teaching that failure is not proof of weakness, but the inevitable companion of those who dare to step forward when others shrink back. To act is to risk, and to risk is to live.

In ancient times, the philosophers understood this truth. Aristotle taught that courage is the balance between fear and recklessness—the virtue that makes all others possible. The hero does not lack fear; he walks through it. So too, in Baggio’s words, the penalty taker stands as the image of every soul who faces a test before the world. The crowd watches; the heart trembles; the outcome is uncertain. Yet to step up is to declare, “I will bear the weight of destiny.” Whether the ball finds the net or not, the act itself is sacred. For those who never dare, who never risk missing, will never taste the fire of the moment, nor the glory of having tried.

Consider the story of Thomas Edison, who was told he had failed a thousand times before inventing the light bulb. To this, he replied, “I have not failed—I have found a thousand ways that do not work.” Like Baggio, Edison understood that failure is not the end but the passage to creation. Only those who have the courage to experiment, to strive, to stand before uncertainty, can achieve something enduring. Each “miss” is not a defeat but a testament to one’s will to try. The one who never risks darkness will never bring light to the world.

And so it is in every arena of life. The artist who fears criticism never paints; the lover who fears heartbreak never loves; the leader who fears loss never leads. To live fully is to risk being wounded. The timid soul builds walls, but the brave heart builds bridges. And though the brave may fall, they rise again, their scars shining as proof that they once dared. Courage, therefore, is not the absence of error, but the strength to act knowing that error is possible. The missed penalty, the failed project, the broken heart—these are not signs of weakness, but marks of participation in the great human endeavor of becoming.

Baggio’s wisdom also carries an echo of redemption. In the years after his miss, he continued to play with grace, dignity, and skill, transforming pain into perseverance. He showed the world that one moment of failure does not define a life of passion and integrity. The hero is not the one who never stumbles, but the one who rises after falling. His words remind us that forgiveness, resilience, and courage are intertwined. The one who dares must also learn to forgive himself, to keep stepping forward even when the crowd remembers his fall.

Therefore, let this be the lesson passed to all who live with trembling hearts: do not fear the penalty. Step forward. Take the shot. The outcome matters less than the act itself, for the act is the seed of growth. The only true failure is never to have tried. In the field of sport, of art, of love, of life itself, the same truth endures: only those who have the courage to act may fail, and only those who fail may one day succeed. For as Roberto Baggio teaches us through his sorrow and strength, happiness and greatness are born not from safety, but from the brave willingness to risk being “completely cut open” before the eyes of the world—and to stand again, unbroken, beneath the weight of our humanity.