The game is my wife. It demands loyalty and responsibility, and

Hear the words of Michael Jordan, champion among men, whose name resounds through the halls of sport: “The game is my wife. It demands loyalty and responsibility, and it gives me back fulfillment and peace.” These words are not merely about basketball, but about devotion itself. In them, Jordan reveals the sacred bond between a person and their calling. Just as a man binds himself to his spouse with love, fidelity, and sacrifice, so too did he bind himself to the game, giving it his time, his sweat, his very soul. And in return, it bestowed upon him the treasures not of gold alone, but of fulfillment and peace.

The origin of these words lies in Jordan’s life, a life of relentless discipline. From his earliest days, cut from his high school team, to the pinnacle of his career as the greatest of champions, he remained wed to the game. While others saw it as pastime or profession, he treated it as covenant. It was his sanctuary and his crucible, where loyalty was tested and greatness was forged. And like a true marriage, it required more than passion—it required responsibility, a daily devotion to the unseen hours of practice, the discipline of body and mind, and the willingness to sacrifice comfort for a greater vision.

History itself is rich with echoes of such devotion. Consider Leonardo da Vinci, who treated his art and inventions as sacred companions. Though the world often delayed in recognizing his genius, his loyalty to creation never faltered. Through endless sketches, experiments, and failures, he remained true to his craft, and in return, the world remembers him as one of its greatest minds. Like Jordan, he showed that when one commits wholly to a pursuit—treating it with the seriousness of marriage—it will return not only success but peace, the peace of a soul living in harmony with its destiny.

Jordan’s words also speak of responsibility. The game, like a spouse, is not conquered or controlled, but cared for. A player must nurture it with discipline, protect it from dishonor, and carry its weight with humility. If one approaches their calling lightly, seeking only what it can give and not what it requires, the bond collapses. But when loyalty is true, the calling gives back abundantly. For Jordan, the game returned not only championships and glory, but the deeper fulfillment of knowing he had poured out everything within himself and found peace in that sacrifice.

Yet his wisdom is not bound to courts or championships. Each of us has a “game,” a pursuit, a vocation, a sacred calling. It may be art, or teaching, or raising a family, or serving a community. To treat it as Jordan treated basketball is to live with devotion. It is to rise early when the world sleeps, to endure hardship without complaint, to remain faithful even when the rewards are not immediate. This is the marriage of spirit and purpose, and those who enter into it with loyalty will find that it gives back more than it takes.

The lesson, then, is clear: if you wish for peace in your life, find your calling and commit to it as to a beloved. Do not approach it half-heartedly, for it will not yield its treasures to the unfaithful. Give it loyalty, give it responsibility, and though it may demand sacrifice, it will also grant you the serenity of knowing you have lived fully in the path meant for you. The peace Jordan speaks of is not the absence of struggle, but the deep rest that comes when struggle itself becomes meaningful.

Therefore, remember his teaching: “The game is my wife.” Treat your calling as sacred, honor it with loyalty, carry it with responsibility. In time, it will reward you with the two things every soul longs for—fulfillment in the work of your hands, and peace in the depths of your spirit. And when your days are done, you will look back, as Jordan does, not with regret, but with gratitude that you gave yourself fully to the game entrusted to you.

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