Scarce virtue

Hey, friend.

What’s new with you?

It’s rare to see someone go out on top.

The “best” usually can’t seem to hang it up. I won’t name names, but you know the ones. They fight one more time. They play one more season. They keep touring long after their lore begins to fade.

But not Barry Sanders.

At the peak of his football career, he decided to retire, leaving fans and the sports world bewildered.

Why would someone do something like that?

The new Bye Bye Barry documentary aimed to uncover the reason behind Barry Sanders’ sudden retirement. I can imagine the producers hoping there was a scandalous reason behind a generational talent’s abrupt departure. In the most “Barry Sanders way,” the why behind his faxed-in retirement announcement was anti-climactic. He was simply done.

For most of us, this isn’t a satisfactory reason. He was the best. Barring injury, he was only a few games away from becoming professional football’s all-time rushing leader.

But for Barry Sanders, it was time to close that chapter of his life.

What struck me most is and was his humility. Humility like this, the Philippians 2:3 kind, is a scarce virtue today.

In our public scoreboard culture, it’s hard to fathom someone, especially a celebrity, who doesn’t want to see their name in the record books. So when a person shows humility, it’s noteworthy—confounding even.

It’s not the false kind or the doubtful kind. It’s the quiet, confident kind. The type of humility that assets its truth without ego.

This kind of humility can only be produced from a fallible and subordinate heart.

I wonder what type of world we’d have if more people at the top of the game led with humility like that.

Seen, heard, or read anything interesting? Is there anything you’re digging right now?

• This story of four friends and 5000 rounds is another example of why I love golf.
• I love a good short story. Here’s a library of them.

Been great catching up.

Talk soon,
David