“The way is not in the sky; the way is in the heart.”
– Buddha
I can still feel the Detroit spring air as if it were yesterday: senior year, Cass Tech versus our crosstown rival Detroit Renaissance on their field. Rivalry tension hung so thick you could taste it.
I opened the game on the bench, eyeing every pitch our young starting catcher received. He was talented, but the strike zone kept drifting, dirt balls skipped away, and you could see the pressure tightening around him—around all of us. Momentum was leaking out of green-and-white uniforms.
Then Coach locked eyes with me and gave the slightest nod. No words, just I need you.
I snapped on the gear, but it felt like I was putting on responsibility itself—leadership, legacy, the weight of an entire season. A knee injury from football had ended my gridiron career and limited my catching reps, so I’d been splitting time at first base and right. Yet for a burst, I could still own the dish.
Behind the plate I calmed the pitcher, re-earned the umpire’s trust, and turned every block, frame, and throw into a statement: We’re not folding. Renaissance started pressing, gambling on the bases. Twice I called for pitch-outs, twice I sprang up and fired lasers to second—cutting down their speed demon and silencing their dugout.
Two attempts. Two outs. Momentum reclaimed.
Energy surged through our bench. And when I stepped into the batter’s box, the fire kept burning—I went 3-for-3, driving in five runs. Each swing, each throw, each shout of belief said to my brothers, I’ve got you.
We still lost the game. Yet when the final out settled and I hobbled back toward the dugout, Coach pointed at me, nodded once more, and said, “Yes, sir.” In that moment I won something deeper than a scoreboard: respect, trust, brotherhood.
Greatness isn’t always tallied in victories. Sometimes it’s measured in how fiercely you fight for something bigger than yourself, how ready you are when your number is called—even if you didn’t start. It’s measured in heart that no injury can steal and spirit no setback can contain.
That day became my legacy, and I carry it into every arena of life: Step up. Stabilize the team. Leave everything on the field—for love, for brotherhood, for the call.
© 2025 Myles W. Miller and Lion Heart Enterprises
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Myles W. Miller is an accomplished author of countless articles and short stories on business success, motivation, empowerment, and writing. He conducts dynamic seminars and workshops and is available for speaking engagements and telephone coaching sessions. He can be contacted via e-mail at bookmylesmiller@gmail.com
Officially Myles!!! 