When I come home from work, if I just played a really good game

In the words of Kirk Cousins, we hear the voice of a man who has glimpsed both triumph and humility, and learned to hold them in balance: “When I come home from work, if I just played a really good game and I'm on top of the world, I think changing a diaper will humble me pretty quickly. On days when I struggle, I'll come home and I'll realize that it's not the end of the world.” These words, though wrapped in the ordinary rhythm of family life, carry the quiet grandeur of eternal truth. They speak of perspective, of the sacred balance between glory and grounding, and of the power of home to remind the heart of what truly endures.

In this simple confession, Cousins, a warrior of the modern age—a quarterback who stands before roaring crowds and blazing lights—reveals that even in the realm of greatness, the soul must find its anchor. The diaper, humble and mundane, becomes a symbol of reality’s embrace, drawing him back from the dazzling heights of pride and the suffocating depths of disappointment. The ancients would have called this wisdom temperance, the golden mean between extremes. For whether the day brings victory or defeat, the wise man knows that both are fleeting shadows, and that truth lies not in the cheers of the crowd, but in the quiet duties of love.

Such balance has been the mark of all great souls. Consider Marcus Aurelius, emperor of Rome, who ruled over nations yet wrote in solitude about the impermanence of glory. He reminded himself each morning that power and praise are dust, and that the simplest act done with virtue outweighs a thousand fleeting triumphs. So too does Cousins, after commanding armies on the field, return home not to laurels but to fatherhood—to the humble labor of care, the soft reminder that greatness at work means little if one forgets the small acts that give life meaning. His “changing of a diaper” is his meditation, his reminder that the measure of a man is not only in his victories, but in how he serves when no one is watching.

The contrast between glory and humility is at the heart of this wisdom. On days of triumph, pride can swell like a storm cloud, threatening to eclipse gratitude. Yet on days of failure, despair creeps in like fog. Cousins’ insight cuts through both illusions: neither success nor failure defines the essence of a man—they are passing seasons in the garden of life. To hold a child in one’s arms after facing either the adoration or scorn of the world is to be reminded of eternity’s true scale. What are games, trophies, and headlines beside the unspoken bond of love and duty? In the laughter of his children, the athlete finds not victory or loss, but peace.

This wisdom has echoed through ages and empires. The great general Cincinnatus, when called upon to save Rome, left his plow, led the army to victory, and then returned to his farm. When asked why he did not seize power, he replied that the field and the family were nobler than the throne. So too does Cousins embody this ancient ideal—that the greatest men are those who remember the soil beneath their feet, who exchange crowns for calluses, and who know that every triumph finds its balance in humble service.

The lesson, then, is one of sacred perspective: no victory should make you arrogant, and no failure should make you despair. Whether you stand upon the summit or stumble in the valley, let gratitude be your companion. When the world praises you, return to your home, your roots, your loved ones—they will remind you that you are human. When the world wounds you, return to them still—for they will remind you that you are loved. Life’s greatest wisdom lies not in avoiding the highs or lows, but in walking steadily through both, anchored by the quiet constants of love, humility, and faith.

So, dear listener, remember this teaching: when the world cheers your name, seek the ordinary task that grounds you. Wash a dish, tend a garden, hold a child—these are the acts that keep the soul pure amid glory. And when failure darkens your path, remember that it is not the end of the world; the dawn will come again, and those who love you will still be there, waiting with open arms. For true strength is not found in the stadium, but in the heart that remains humble in victory and unbroken in defeat. Such is the eternal wisdom hidden in the simple truth of Kirk Cousins—that the hands that throw a ball may also change a diaper, and that the soul that seeks greatness must never lose sight of grace.