This game is a love for me. It's like a girlfriend. And we've

The warrior of the gridiron, Darrelle Revis, once said: “This game is a love for me. It’s like a girlfriend. And we’ve been dating for a long time — many years. She’s been great to me and I appreciate it. I love my girlfriend.” At first, these words may sound like playful metaphor, the light jest of an athlete describing his craft. But within them lies something far deeper — a revelation about devotion, discipline, and the sacred bond between a person and their calling. For Revis was not speaking merely of football; he was speaking of love in its purest form — the kind that demands loyalty, patience, and sacrifice.

In calling the game his “girlfriend,” Revis reveals how passion, when true, takes on a life of its own. He does not speak as a conqueror boasting of victories, but as a lover reflecting on a long, complicated relationship. The game — the arena, the sweat, the struggle — is personified as something he cherishes, not possesses. This is the wisdom of one who has lived inside his art. To him, the field is not just a place of labor, but of communion. Every practice is a conversation, every game a test of faith, every injury a heartbreak that deepens, not diminishes, his affection. This is how true devotion looks: not fleeting infatuation, but a love that endures both triumph and pain.

The ancients, too, spoke of such sacred relationships between a person and their art. The Greek sculptor Pygmalion fell in love with the statue he carved, not because it was perfect, but because he poured his soul into its creation. When the goddess Aphrodite brought it to life, it was not merely stone that awoke — it was love made flesh. So it is with the athlete and his game, the artist and his canvas, the poet and his words. Each must labor, fail, and persevere until their creation breathes with something divine. Revis’s love for the game is not a possession, but a partnership — a living bond between man and purpose.

Yet his words carry another truth, quiet but profound: even love that gives must be nurtured with gratitude. “She’s been great to me,” Revis says, as if the game itself were a companion who could choose to give or withdraw her favor. In those few words is the humility of a man who knows that success is never fully earned; it is shared. The game has rewarded him, but he also knows it can take everything away. The wise lover does not assume permanence — he honors each day as a gift. This is the reverence every craftsman, athlete, or dreamer must learn: to thank their chosen path, even for the bruises it gives.

Consider the story of Kobe Bryant, who often spoke of basketball as his “first love.” He rose before dawn to train, long after fame had found him. His body broke under the years of devotion, yet he called it “the beautiful pain.” Like Revis, Kobe saw his sport as something sacred — a lifelong companion who demanded everything but gave back meaning. When he retired, he wrote a farewell poem titled Dear Basketball, thanking the game for the love it gave him. Such is the mark of true mastery: not skill alone, but gratitude toward the thing that shaped one’s soul.

Revis’s metaphor also reminds us that passion, when pursued deeply, mirrors the intimacy of human love. It brings joy, but also jealousy; it demands commitment, and punishes neglect. Many people begin relationships — with people, with work, with art — but few stay through the long years of struggle. Revis did. His words carry the wisdom of endurance: love is not always easy, but if it is real, it is worth it. To stay in love with something — through success, failure, and fatigue — is one of the highest virtues of the human heart.

So, my listener, take this teaching to heart: whatever your “game” may be — whether art, craft, study, or service — treat it as Revis treated his. Love it not for what it gives you, but for what it allows you to become. Tend to it as you would a cherished companion. Show up each day with respect and curiosity. When the work grows hard, remember that all deep love demands perseverance. And when you have given your all, whisper thanks — not just for victory, but for the privilege of devotion itself. For in loving your craft with patience and gratitude, you too will find what Darrelle Revis found on the field: a lifelong companion that makes you more than you were, and reminds you, always, of what it means to truly love.