We have to be thankful to the Czechs that they did their duty.

Ruud van Nistelrooy, the great striker, once spoke with passion and relief: “We have to be thankful to the Czechs that they did their duty. The Czech Republic won, I can’t believe it. It was a huge party with all the people here.” In this statement, we hear not only the voice of a footballer, but the cry of one who has lived through the tension of fate and witnessed how the deeds of others can shape destiny. His words are born from the world of sport, yet their meaning reaches far beyond: they teach us the eternal truth that gratitude must be given not only to our own strength, but to the allies, rivals, and companions whose victories become entwined with our own.

The origin of these words lies in a moment of tournament drama, when qualification and triumph depended not only on van Nistelrooy’s team, but on the outcome of another nation’s match. In football, as in life, one’s fate is not always in one’s own hands. The Czechs, by winning their battle, unknowingly lifted others into celebration. Van Nistelrooy’s gratitude shows the humility of a warrior who understands that victory is not always forged by one’s own blade—it is often secured by the unseen labors of others.

The ancients knew this truth well. In the wars of Greece, the Athenians at Marathon could not have triumphed without the Plataeans, who came to their side though they were few in number. In Rome, alliances often decided the fate of empires as much as the legions themselves. Just as van Nistelrooy gives thanks to the Czech Republic, so too did the generals of old give thanks to allies who turned the tide of battle. For history is not written by one hand alone, but by the convergence of many.

His words also reveal the joy of communal celebration. He recalls “a huge party with all the people here.” This is no solitary victory, no private triumph. It is a reminder that in sport, as in life, triumph gains its fullest meaning when it is shared. The roar of the crowd, the joining of voices, the dancing of strangers in the street—these are the signs that victory is not an individual possession but a collective treasure. Gratitude binds the players and the people together, and together they lift up the moment into memory.

There is also humility in his statement: “I can’t believe it.” This disbelief is not weakness, but awe. For when fortune tilts in our favor, when fate brings unexpected blessing, the wise do not boast—they marvel. They recognize that human effort and divine chance mingle in mysterious ways. Van Nistelrooy’s astonishment mirrors that of the soldier spared on the battlefield or the farmer blessed with rain after drought: it is the wonder of one who knows he has received more than he could command.

The lesson is this: never forget to give thanks to those whose labors, seen or unseen, shape your own good fortune. Be it a rival, an ally, a stranger, or even a nation far away—the victories of others often open the doors to your own. To recognize this is to walk in humility, to honor the interconnectedness of life, and to cultivate gratitude that binds us all.

Practically, this means celebrating not only your own achievements, but the contributions of others that make them possible. Thank your teammates, your colleagues, your family, even those you did not expect to help you. Share in their victories, for their triumphs may one day carry you as well. And when fortune smiles unexpectedly, let your first words be those of gratitude, not pride.

Thus, van Nistelrooy’s words remain as a teaching: that thankfulness is the soul of victory, and that no triumph is ever solitary. Just as the Czechs did their duty and lifted many into joy, so too must we recognize and honor the hands that lift us. In this way, victory becomes not fleeting glory, but eternal fellowship.