When I thought I was retired, I wanted to travel around the

Hear the lighthearted yet profound words of Drew Carey, who said: “When I thought I was retired, I wanted to travel around the world and watch soccer games.” At first glance, this saying may appear simple, almost playful. Yet within it lies the essence of human longing: the yearning for freedom, for joy, for the gathering of experiences rather than possessions. For Carey speaks not of wealth, nor of power, nor of monuments to himself, but of a life lived through journeys and the shared passion of sport.

The heart of this quote is that retirement is not the end but a doorway. Many view the close of labor as a descent into stillness, but Carey envisions it as a chance to begin anew, to set sail upon the oceans of the world with eyes wide open. His dream was not bound by the walls of comfort but stretched across continents, from stadium to stadium, where the voices of thousands rise in a common chorus. This is the vision of a man who understood that the measure of life is not counted only in work accomplished, but in joy pursued.

Consider the role of soccer—the world’s game, the universal language. A child in Brazil, a shepherd in Africa, a student in Europe, a laborer in Asia—all know the rhythm of the ball. To travel the world watching soccer is not merely to watch sport, but to sit among the nations, to hear their chants, to feel their unity, to drink of their culture. In truth, Carey’s wish was a wish to see humanity gathered in its most joyful ritual, to witness not division but communion. Thus his dream was not idle, but deeply human.

History offers us the story of Johan Huizinga, the Dutch historian who wrote of “homo ludens,” man the player. He taught that play is at the heart of all culture, that in games we find not mere amusement but the roots of ritual, art, and community. To watch soccer around the world, then, is to witness the heartbeats of civilizations. Just as the ancients gathered in amphitheaters for contests of strength and spirit, so too do modern peoples gather in stadiums. Carey’s dream reflects this timeless truth: in play, humanity reveals itself.

Yet his words also carry the echo of humility. Traveling the world to watch games is not conquest, nor the pursuit of great glory. It is a quiet, joyous way of living—choosing not the burdens of ambition but the pleasures of connection. This is wisdom: to know that the good life need not always be marked by grand achievements, but by the savoring of simple, universal joys. In this, Carey aligns with the sages who counseled that happiness lies not in riches, but in companionship, in laughter, and in the shared rhythms of humanity.

There is also a lesson in timing. He speaks of when he “thought he was retired,” suggesting that life often unfolds differently than we plan. Dreams of leisure may be delayed, altered, or transformed. Yet the desire remains, and the heart clings to its visions. This too is wisdom: to dream of joys, but to be ready to adapt, to bend like a sailor’s mast in the storm, yet to hold fast to the vision of what brings life meaning.

The lesson, then, is clear: do not wait until retirement to pursue joy. Life is fleeting, and the ball is always in play. Seek now to travel, to watch, to learn, to rejoice in the gathering of people and the rituals that bind us. Do not hoard your days for later, for later is never promised. Let each season of life hold its own form of play, its own journeys, its own celebrations.

And in practice: make space in your life for the things you love most, whether it is soccer, art, music, or the quiet beauty of nature. Let travel, whether across oceans or across streets, open your eyes to the diversity of human joy. For as Carey teaches, the truest wealth of retirement—or of any stage of life—is not gold or fame, but the freedom to follow the heart, to travel the world, and to sit in the stands of humanity’s greatest game, cheering with the nations as one.