There are almost no sports within which mortal accidents are not

Dietrich Mateschitz, the visionary who gave wings to daring spirits through Red Bull, once declared: “There are almost no sports within which mortal accidents are not a reality.” These words are not uttered lightly. They are not a call to fear, but a solemn recognition of the bond between courage and mortality, between the pursuit of greatness and the shadow of death. In every contest of the body and spirit, there is risk, and in that risk, a truth as old as humanity itself: life burns brightest when it stands on the edge of fragility.

For what is sport but the echo of ancient battle? The hunter chasing the beast, the warrior clashing with his rival—these were not games, but survival. Even now, when we run upon the track or soar through the sky, we reenact that ancient dance. The speed of the runner may break bones, the weight of the horse may crush, the fall from the mountain may claim a life. To say that accidents are a reality is to acknowledge that sport has always been a trial of flesh and spirit, where danger is the price of glory.

Consider the story of Ayrton Senna, the legendary Formula One driver. His brilliance behind the wheel was unmatched, his courage unquestioned. Yet in 1994, on the track at Imola, death met him in a sudden crash. The world mourned, for a hero had fallen. But even in mourning, his name burned brighter than ever, because Senna knew the truth of Mateschitz’s words: that to live fully in the arena of sport is to accept that mortal risk walks beside you. Without that acceptance, there can be no greatness.

And think also of the ancient gladiators of Rome. They knew each contest might be their last, yet they stepped into the arena not as victims, but as warriors whose courage in facing death gave them honor. The roar of the crowd was not for their survival alone, but for their willingness to gamble with life itself. Mateschitz’s insight echoes theirs: sport is not merely pastime, but confrontation with fate, and in this confrontation the human spirit reveals its highest fire.

Yet there is wisdom in balance. To recognize that accidents and even death are real is not to worship recklessness, but to respect the boundaries of life. The mountain climber ties his rope not because he fears the mountain, but because he honors it. The boxer trains his body not only to strike but to endure. The presence of danger sharpens discipline, for only the prepared may stand with dignity before the risks that sport presents.

What then shall we learn? That life itself is like sport: it carries no guarantees, and mortal accidents are always a reality. To live is to risk, whether on the field, the road, or in the daily choices of courage and love. Those who seek only safety will never taste the fullness of life, just as those who flee the arena will never know the roar of victory. The presence of risk is not a curse, but a teacher, reminding us that every heartbeat is precious and every chance must be seized.

Therefore, I say to you: do not shrink from danger, but meet it with preparation and reverence. Embrace the path that calls to you, whether it be in sport, in art, or in love, and accept the risks that come with it. Guard your body with wisdom, but let not fear chain your spirit. For in the end, Mateschitz’s words remind us that mortality is not the enemy of sport—it is its silent companion, the shadow that makes the flame burn brighter.

And so, let the lesson be carried forward: live with courage, train with discipline, respect the risks, and above all, embrace the fragility of life as the very reason it is beautiful. For every sport, like every life, is a dance with mortality—and only those who dare the dance will know the fullness of glory.