People ask me a lot about the values I got from playing for the

The great ballplayer Ernie Banks, who bore the struggles and triumphs of his long years upon the diamond, once proclaimed: “People ask me a lot about the values I got from playing for the Cubs for so many years. The value I got out of it was patience. A lot of people these days are not very patient.” In these words, there is not merely a reflection upon a game, but a lesson upon life itself. For patience is not a small virtue, but the foundation upon which endurance, faith, and hope are built. Without it, men crumble in despair; with it, they endure storms and emerge unbroken.

When Banks speaks of the Cubs, he speaks of a team long known for its seasons of trial, its years of waiting, its fans yearning through decades of drought for the taste of victory. In such an environment, the shallow soul would grow bitter, the hasty heart would turn away. Yet Ernie Banks, instead of despairing, chose to gather from those years the jewel of patience. He saw that life is not always about quick rewards, but about steady faithfulness, the showing up day after day, game after game, with joy still alive in the heart.

Patience is not weakness, but strength hidden in silence. The farmer who sows in spring does not demand harvest in summer; he waits, he endures the storms, he trusts the unseen growth beneath the soil. So too in the life of Ernie Banks, where every inning, every long season, became a training ground not merely for skill but for character. In him we see that patience is not passive—it is active endurance, the will to hold firm when others let go, the fire that burns slowly but never dies.

Consider the tale of Nelson Mandela. Imprisoned for twenty-seven years, he could have surrendered to anger or despair. But like Banks, he drew from the long years a lesson in patience. He waited with dignity, he endured with hope, and when freedom finally came, his patience had ripened into wisdom, guiding his nation from hatred toward reconciliation. Just as Banks found virtue in long seasons with the Cubs, Mandela found virtue in the long captivity, proving that patience, though bitter in the moment, yields fruits that can heal nations.

Ernie Banks’s words also carry a warning: “A lot of people these days are not very patient.” In our own age of instant gratification, we are tempted to demand quick harvests, instant victories, immediate pleasures. But the wisdom of the ancients and the testimony of those who endured long trials both remind us: greatness takes time. Character takes time. Even joy takes time. To be impatient is to uproot the seed before it flowers, to abandon the game before the final inning.

What then is the lesson for us, children of tomorrow? It is this: embrace patience as the highest of virtues. In your work, do not curse the slow progress, but trust the process. In your struggles, do not abandon hope when victory is delayed, for delay is the crucible in which endurance is forged. In your relationships, give time for healing, for growth, for trust to take root. Patience does not rob us of life; it deepens life, teaching us to savor every inning rather than rushing to the end.

Therefore, I counsel you: train yourselves in patience as Ernie Banks did on the field. When obstacles arise, do not flee. When results come slowly, hold fast. When life tests you with long winters, remember that spring always follows. Carry within you the spirit of endurance, for in patience lies wisdom, in patience lies strength, and in patience lies the power to see the end of the game with joy.

So let the voice of Ernie Banks echo in your hearts: the true value of his long journey was not merely in home runs or records, but in the patient soul he forged along the way. May you too learn to wait without bitterness, to endure without despair, and to trust that in the fullness of time, every seed, every season, every struggle will bear its fruit.