Trust me, I play the game for the fans, my family and myself.

"Trust me, I play the game for the fans, my family and myself." Thus spoke David Ortiz, the mighty slugger known to many as “Big Papi,” whose bat thundered in the ballparks of America and whose heart thundered with loyalty and gratitude. These words are not merely about the sport of baseball—they are a creed, a testament to the forces that drive a man to greatness: devotion to the people, duty to family, and faith in oneself.

The ancients would have recognized this triad. For every hero of old fought not only for his own glory but for the honor of his kin and the joy of his people. Achilles fought for his name and his comrades; Hector for his city and his family; Odysseus for the home and hearth he longed to see again. Ortiz, in the language of the modern age, declares the same eternal truth: that the greatest strength arises when a man’s struggle is not for himself alone, but for all who share in his journey.

When Ortiz stood at the plate in the crucible of October baseball, he carried more than a bat—he carried the voices of millions. After the tragedy of the Boston Marathon bombing, it was Ortiz who stood before the people and declared, “This is our city.” His courage and his play rekindled a wounded spirit. In that moment, his words and deeds became larger than the game itself. He proved that to play for the fans is not merely to entertain, but to give hope, to be a symbol of endurance when despair threatens to overwhelm.

Yet Ortiz did not forget the hearth from which he came. He played for his family, whose sacrifices shaped his path. In the Dominican Republic, where baseball is not only a game but a lifeline, his rise carried with it the pride of his people and the dreams of his ancestors. In honoring his family, he honored also the truth that greatness is never born alone; it is nurtured by countless unseen hands, by love, by discipline, by support that the world may never witness.

And lastly, Ortiz spoke of playing for himself. For no man can fight for others unless he also possesses an inner fire. To play for oneself is not selfishness—it is the wellspring of authenticity. It is the resolve to honor the gift given, to test one’s own limits, to rise each day with determination. Ortiz knew that only by being true to himself could he be true to his fans and his family. Self-belief, balanced by love and loyalty, becomes the foundation of greatness.

This teaching reaches beyond the ballfield. Each of us, in our own labors, may ask: for whom do I strive? If we live only for ourselves, our strength is shallow. If we live only for others, we risk losing the spark of our own identity. But if we balance as Ortiz did—for the people, for our loved ones, and for our own soul—we find harmony. We live with purpose, and our efforts become part of something larger than ourselves.

Therefore, O listeners, remember this wisdom: in your work, in your battles, in your dreams, dedicate yourself to these three pillars. Honor those who believe in you, cherish those who raised and loved you, and nurture the fire within your own heart. This is the way to live not as a shadow, but as a beacon. For like Ortiz, you too may discover that the truest victories are not only recorded in the annals of history, but carried in the hearts of those you inspire.