When I can talk about my teammates who help make me a better

The words of Gerard Piqué resound with the wisdom of one who has stood among giants, fought on fields of glory, and learned that no triumph belongs to a single man: “When I can talk about my teammates who help make me a better player, or even the coach who gave me the self-confidence to continue being who I am, these are fundamental people who have had an influence throughout my life and my professional career, and I’m very thankful to them, and they know it.” In this confession of gratitude lies a timeless truth: greatness is not forged in solitude, but in fellowship; not born only from one’s own strength, but nurtured by those who walk beside us and believe in us.

To speak of teammates is to honor the fellowship of equals—men who sweat together, who strive together, who endure defeat and rejoice in victory as one. Piqué, a defender whose career was crowned with victories at both Barcelona and the Spanish national team, knows that his strength was magnified by those who fought alongside him. Each pass, each tackle, each victory was not his alone, but the sum of a thousand unseen sacrifices. He teaches us that the bonds of the team are sacred, for in them the individual becomes more than himself; he becomes part of a living whole.

He also speaks of the coach who gave him self-confidence. Here lies another eternal truth: that the words of a mentor can breathe life into a weary spirit and awaken potential that lies dormant. Piqué remembers not only the tactics and the drills, but the gift of belief bestowed by a leader’s encouragement. The ancients too revered this power of mentorship. Consider Aristotle and Alexander, where the philosopher’s teachings gave shape to the ambitions of a young king. Or Philopoemen of Greece, whose generals taught him discipline and patience before he became known as the “last of the great Greeks.” Without mentors who instill confidence, even the most gifted falter. With them, men rise to their true stature.

Piqué calls such figures “fundamental people.” The word itself reveals that they are not ornamental, not temporary, but foundational. Like the roots of a mighty tree, they are hidden beneath the soil, but without them the trunk cannot rise, the branches cannot spread, and the fruit cannot grow. His gratitude is not a passing courtesy; it is recognition of the deep and eternal debt we owe to those who shape us quietly but profoundly.

There is humility in his declaration: “I’m very thankful to them, and they know it.” Too often men rise in glory and forget those who carried them upward. But Piqué’s words remind us that true greatness remembers, honors, and speaks gratitude aloud. It is not enough to feel thankful; one must tell those who shaped us that we remember, that we recognize their influence, and that their sacrifices were not in vain. In this, Piqué shows himself not only a champion on the field, but a noble soul who values human bonds above trophies.

The lesson here is eternal: do not walk through life believing your victories are yours alone. Cherish the teammates who strengthen you, the coaches and mentors who guide you, and the unseen companions whose belief in you allows you to believe in yourself. Speak your gratitude aloud, for silence diminishes the gift, but acknowledgment magnifies it. And in turn, become that teammate, that coach, that mentor for others—be the one who inspires confidence, who lifts others to their best.

Therefore, let us act with this wisdom. Reflect on your own life and name the “fundamental people” who shaped you—parents, teachers, friends, colleagues. Tell them you are thankful, as Piqué has done. And when your own strength or wisdom may influence another, offer it freely, for you may be the root that allows their tree to grow tall. For the wisdom of Gerard Piqué is clear: the measure of a person is not only in what they achieve, but in how deeply they honor those who made that achievement possible. In this spirit, gratitude itself becomes a form of greatness.