I come from a sports-oriented family. My dad played basketball, football, and ran track during his early years of childhood and high school, my brother plays basketball for Cal State Chico, and I played four years of varsity tennis in high school (my mother was never really an “athlete” per say, but she was a ballet dancer for a lengthy period growing up so I count that as well.) It’s a line that runs through our blood, so of course we try and keep up with the happenings of the sports world as much as possible. The ESPN logo is a familiar sight on the living room TV, and conversation occasionally strays to who may usurp Roger Federer’s place as the tennis GOAT. That’s “Greatest of All Time” for those unfamiliar with the terminology.

Now the regular season is over and the NBA finals have come once again. The line has been drawn in the sand. Do you side with Steph Curry and the Warriors, backing those who represent your home state? Or do you side with LeBron James and the Cavaliers on their quest to bring home the first NBA championship in decades? We’ve all picked our side and readied ourselves for the ups and downs that frequent competition of this level.

What makes any high-level competitive sports fun to watch is to see the passion and fury in the athletes’ eyes, ready to push themselves to the brink for that ever-elusive title. This is by no means limited to basketball or tennis players; you can see it from everyone who bowls a perfect game and jabs their fist into the air to sprinters who barely have enough energy to stand. Why? It’s simple really; Winning that game, earning the rank or even just being recognized as having put forth your best effort, is the reward. It’s the culmination of how much (or how little) effort you put toward something you saw and knew you wanted. The motives for why vary from person to person or team to team, but it’s there for the taking.

But in the end, it’s not really the shiny trophy or fancy medal you can wear to the party in your honor that matters. Ultimately it’s just a symbol representing what you have truly won: character. It’s a funny paradox, really. It’s not something concrete that you can hold in your hand and feel its texture, but it is something abstract that you can see. You just have to look hard enough. It walks the line between being humble and being arrogant, treading on the definition of confident. Character will throw an opponent to the ground in victory, but then stoop down and offer them a hand up. Character compels a person to hit that one extra serve for perfect form in the one hundred and 10-degree weather, or push for one extra lap in water much too cold for the average human to bear.

There’s a reason why the ancient Greeks treasured sport so much. When they weren’t sitting around nourishing their minds with philosophy and logic (both useful topics in and of themselves), they were forging character through action worthy of the gods. They wished to become like the heroes they sang of, worthy of taking their place on Mount Olympus. Those old gods don’t frequent these parts anymore, so I guess we’ll have to settle for the Olympics.