"I didn't say I was that smart, I said I went to class and I enjoyed what I was doing"

Willie Mays draws a clean line between innate intellect and the daily habits that build excellence. He downplays the mystique of being “that smart” and elevates two quieter forces: showing up to learn and loving the work. “Went to class” signals more than school; it’s a posture toward life, structured practice, attention to fundamentals, and a willingness to be coached. It’s the humility to be a student, even when you’re already good. Enjoying what you’re doing supplies the energy to keep returning, to absorb lessons, and to endure the tedious parts that mastery requires.

There’s a gentle defiance in this perspective. Society loves prodigies and miracle narratives, but Mays suggests that greatness often grows out of steadiness and delight. Intelligence becomes less a fixed trait and more a tool sharpened by discipline. Enthusiasm isn’t fluff; it’s fuel. When you enjoy the work, repetition becomes less of a grind and more of a rhythm, and learning compounds. The emphasis shifts from proving you’re gifted to improving your craft.

There’s also respect for accountability embedded here. “I went to class” implies commitment to a schedule and to a community of teachers and peers. It acknowledges that growth happens within structures that challenge and support us. Passion without structure drifts; structure without passion stalls. Together they create momentum.

Mays’s stance invites a democratic view of achievement. You don’t need to self-identify as brilliant to pursue something deeply and do it well. You need to show up, pay attention, practice, and find the joy that keeps you curious. The result is a quieter, more sustainable form of confidence, earned rather than asserted. It reminds us that the path to excellence isn’t gated by labels about intelligence; it’s paved by presence and pleasure in the craft.