The most important part are the fans, that people going home are

In the luminous and humble words of Johan Cruyff, one of the greatest masters to ever grace the field of sport, there resounds a truth both simple and eternal: “The most important part are the fans, that people going home are happy. It's their time off, and you should give them something to enjoy.” Though spoken of football, these words transcend the game. They speak of duty, joy, and the sacred bond between those who create and those who receive. For Cruyff, football was not merely a contest of strength or strategy—it was a gift, a moment of beauty offered from player to people, from the few to the many. And in that exchange, he saw the very heart of what it means to live for others.

Johan Cruyff, born in Amsterdam in 1947, rose from the narrow streets near Ajax’s old stadium to become a figure of legend. He was not just a player, but a philosopher of motion, a teacher of vision. On the pitch, his movements spoke like poetry—every pass, every feint, every goal was a message of imagination. Yet, for all his brilliance, Cruyff never forgot the crowd that gathered to watch. He understood that the fans—those thousands of souls who filled the stands, who sacrificed their time and wages to witness a match—were not mere spectators, but the lifeblood of the game itself. In their cheers and silences, in their devotion and disappointment, he heard the true music of football.

To Cruyff, the player’s responsibility was not only to win but to delight. Victory without beauty was, to him, hollow. A match, he believed, should honor those who came seeking wonder, those who carried heavy burdens in their daily lives and sought in football a moment of lightness, of joy, of shared belonging. “It’s their time off,” he said, recognizing that the game was a sanctuary—a small escape from the grind of existence. The fans came not to witness machinery, but magic. And so he taught his players, and all who followed him, that football was an art, and the artist’s duty was to give happiness to the world.

This belief found its greatest form in Cruyff’s philosophy of “Total Football”, the revolutionary style he embodied and later taught. In this system, every player was connected, every pass purposeful, every movement a dance of intelligence and cooperation. It was football not as war, but as harmony—a reflection of human potential when guided by creativity and selflessness. When Cruyff’s teams—Ajax, Barcelona, and the Netherlands—played in this way, the spectators were lifted beyond the ordinary. They did not just see goals; they saw beauty, and in beauty, they saw hope. For a brief time, in the stadium’s roar and rhythm, life itself felt larger, lighter, and alive.

The ancients would have understood this truth well. In the theaters of Greece, the poets of tragedy and comedy knew that art belonged to the people. They wrote not for kings but for citizens—for the farmers, merchants, and soldiers who filled the amphitheaters seeking understanding, release, and laughter. Euripides and Sophocles, like Cruyff, believed that the measure of greatness was not the performer’s pride, but the audience’s transformation. When the curtain fell or the final whistle blew, what mattered most was whether the hearts of the people were stirred, their burdens lightened, their spirits renewed. Cruyff stood in that same lineage—the artist who remembered that creation is service.

Yet, there is also humility in his words—a reminder to all who succeed or perform in any craft. Whether one is a musician, a craftsman, a teacher, or an athlete, the purpose of skill is not self-glory but generosity. The fans, the audience, the community—these are not accessories to achievement, but its foundation. To make others happy is not a lesser goal; it is the highest. For when a person uses their talent to bring joy, they become a conduit of grace, a maker of meaning in a weary world. Cruyff’s wisdom is the same that guided the saints and philosophers: that service to others is the purest form of greatness.

So, my children of the future, take heed of this teaching from the master of the beautiful game: whatever you do, do it with love for those who watch, who listen, who depend on your craft for a moment of light. If you are a teacher, let your students leave inspired. If you are an artist, let your work awaken joy. If you are a leader, remember the people who trust you with their time and hope. For in the end, every field is a stadium, every act of creation a performance—and the greatest victory is not applause or fame, but the quiet, lasting happiness of those who return home with fuller hearts.

Thus, as Cruyff believed, the truest measure of greatness lies not in the trophies on the shelf, but in the smiles of those who witnessed your art. Give beauty to the world, and you shall never play in vain.