Well, number one I like dancing. Number two I knew it would be

“Well, number one I like dancing. Number two I knew it would be challenging because I had never done this type of dance before. I always wanted to and I happened to have the courage to go out there and give it my best shot.” Thus spoke Evander Holyfield, the warrior of the boxing ring, a man who had already conquered fear, pain, and defeat on the grandest of stages — yet here, he speaks not of combat, but of dance. In this humble and joyful reflection, Holyfield reveals a truth that transcends the world of sports: that courage is not limited to the battlefield or the arena, but is found in every act of self-discovery. The heart that dares to try, even in unfamiliar ground, possesses the same heroism as the one that faces an opponent in the ring.

The origin of this quote lies in Holyfield’s participation in the television show Dancing with the Stars. To many, the great boxer — known for his iron discipline, his faith, and his ferocious spirit — seemed out of place on the dance floor. Yet Holyfield, ever a man of principle, did not fear appearing vulnerable. He embraced the challenge with humility, saying simply that he had always loved dancing and wanted to try. In that moment, his words became more than a comment about entertainment; they became a lesson in courage, perseverance, and the beauty of stepping beyond one’s comfort zone. For true strength, he reminds us, is not the absence of fear — it is the will to act despite it.

When Holyfield says, “I happened to have the courage to go out there and give it my best shot,” he distills the spirit of the warrior into its purest form. Courage, to him, is not confined to the boxing ring or the pursuit of glory — it lives in the decision to keep learning, to face uncertainty with a steady heart. The man who once faced giants in combat now faced his own self-doubt on the stage, not to win applause, but to honor the call of joy. This act is no small thing; for every human being must at some point confront the fear of looking foolish, of failing, of stepping into the unknown. To do so with grace, as Holyfield did, is to achieve a quiet kind of victory — one that belongs not to the body, but to the soul.

Throughout history, there have been many who, like Holyfield, dared to step beyond the roles the world assigned them. Consider Leonardo da Vinci, the painter who was also a scientist, an engineer, and a dreamer. In an age when men were expected to master one craft, he mastered many — because he refused to let fear limit his curiosity. Or think of George Washington Carver, born into slavery, who defied all expectation to become a scholar and an artist of nature. Each of these souls shared Holyfield’s truth: that life’s richest rewards belong to those who follow their desire to grow, no matter how strange or unfamiliar the path may seem. Their courage was not loud; it was the courage to explore.

There is also a deeper humility in Holyfield’s words. “I had never done this type of dance before,” he admits, without shame or pretense. He knew that mastery begins in ignorance, that one must first stumble before one can glide. Too often, pride prevents us from trying new things; we fear the laughter of others, or the discomfort of failure. Yet Holyfield’s example teaches that humility and courage are brothers — that the brave are not those who already know how to succeed, but those who dare to begin imperfectly. The fighter who once trained to perfection in boxing now embraced the awkward rhythm of a dance he did not yet understand, finding joy not in triumph, but in the act of trying.

This spirit — the willingness to begin again — is the essence of human growth. Whether in art, work, love, or faith, life constantly asks us to dance in new ways. The steps may be strange, the rhythm unfamiliar, but the music of life rewards those who move anyway. Holyfield’s courage on the dance floor mirrors the courage required in every transformation — the courage to change careers, to learn a new skill, to open one’s heart after loss. It is the courage to live fully. For as the ancients taught, “He who ceases to learn, ceases to live.”

So, dear listener, take this lesson to heart: Do not fear the unfamiliar. When the opportunity arises to try something new — to dance, to speak, to create — remember Holyfield’s example. The greatest battles are often fought not against others, but against the limits we place on ourselves. Step into the unknown with joy; let curiosity lead you; give your best shot, not because success is certain, but because courage is its own reward. In this way, life itself becomes a dance — one guided not by fear of failure, but by the steady rhythm of faith, humility, and courage.

For as Evander Holyfield teaches, every act of daring, no matter how small, is a victory of the spirit. The champion of the ring became a student of rhythm, and in doing so, showed the world that greatness lies not only in strength, but in openness. The dance floor, like life, belongs to those who dare to step forward — to those who find joy in the challenge, and grace in the attempt.