Rickochet
I was struggling with my game leading up to my club championship, from the normal tees I play. About 10 days prior to the qualifier, I decided to go out by myself and play from the tips, which are 500 yards longer than I'm accustomed to playing and where the upcoming tournaments would be played from. I struggled, hit only 4 greens that day and shot my worst round of the season.
Ten minutes after that round, completely deflated and no confidence whatsoever, I went into the pro shop to withdraw from the qualifier, which by default also meant I wouldn't be participating in the club championship. I mean - what's the point? I'm not gonna play well, I'm only going to embarrass myself. Why bother?
As I waited to talk with the head pro about removing myself from the tournament, the assistant pro was just making small talk with me. He asked if I was ready for the upcoming qualifier, and I told him my game was so bad at the moment that I wasn't going to play. He says to me, "Hey, let's go outside for a second where we can talk in private." I thought maybe something was going on in his personal life, maybe he needed some advice or a help with a problem.
It was interesting to realize that the discussion he wanted to have with me had nothing to do with him and his life, but rather me.
"I want you to hear me out. I became the assistant here the same month you joined two years ago, in fact you were the very first member that I played with. You remember what you shot that day," he asked. "I've no idea, can't remember what I had for dinner last night, let alone something that happened 2 years ago," I replied. "You shot 74 that day," he said. "I remember you being incredibly frustrated with your game, but I also remember that I played about as well as I could possibly play and you still ended up nipping me by a couple shots. You don't remember that?" I just chuckled and said no. "Not only that round, but the other countless times over the past couple of seasons we've played together, be it the pro-ams at other courses or just friendly matches here at home - I've watched you play some great rounds of golf, where everything was clicking. But those rounds don't stand out to me. You know which rounds stand out." he asked. "No idea," I replied. "The rounds where you clearly didn't have your best but still somehow managed to turn 81's into 74's, just like that first round I ever played with you," he said. "That's the reason why you're the first guy on my list when I get a few opportunities to play in pro-ams each year, because I know that regardless of how well or how poorly you're hitting it - you're not a quitter. You keep grinding, you never quit, you never let your frustration dictate what your score will be."
"Just understand - if you withdraw from the qualifier next week - you'll have done something that I've never seen you do in the two years I've had the privilege of knowing and playing with you. I've never known you to be the type who cashes in his chips when the cards aren't falling the way they should. You're better than that. Don't rush your decision, think about what I said. In a few days, if you still feel that you don't wanna play, then call and I'll remove your name from the tournament roster. But I just thought you needed to hear this before doing something you might regret later on. Give it some time."
Turned out that I finished 2nd in the qualifier, got a #2 seed in the club championship matchplay. Beat a young college player 4&3 in the first round, was 5-up up on my opponent when he conceded the match on the 11th hole in the second round, bested my opponent in the semifinals 5&4, and took my opponent to 38 holes in the finals, before he hit a miraculous bunker shot on the 2nd playoff hole to put me away.
And to think that just three weeks earlier, I was a split-second away from not being able to enjoy what ended up being such a rewarding and memorable tournament experience.
I relate this story not because of a selfish need to pat myself on the back or to convince anyone that I'm this invincible player at my club. Trust me - I am not. I relate this story because someone close to me took the time to remind me that I can still play the game at a reasonably good level, someone who'd seen enough of that firsthand playing alongside me to qualify his perspective on the matter.
I know Tiger's situation couldn't be any more different from mine... he's been the best in the world longer than anyone I've ever followed, he's made hundreds of millions playing the game and he's accomplished all that he has under the most excruciating, suffocating pressure that tournament golf offers at the highest level.
But you mean to tell me that Tiger Woods doesn't have someone in his life encouraging him, reminding him of all the enormous successes he's experienced, all of the major championships he's won, all of the asses he's kicked throughout a majority of his career? You mean to tell me that Tiger doesn't have a similar friend who he can take a moment to listen to, to reason with, to help him overcome this sudden fear of the unknown?
The fact that Tiger has absolutely no one like that in his life, someone he respects, someone he trusts, helping him navigate the frustrations (both physically and mentally) and providing essential encouragements and different perspectives - that's the real disappointment if you ask me. Either through his own flawed reasoning or his ego, or whatever... a 40-yr-old man has no one in his life that he can turn to for advice and encouragement. Because if he did have someone like that in his life - he wouldn't be running from his fears, but running headlong into them. That's the Tiger I remember.. the guy who was missing fairways by 30 yards but still winning tournaments, not this guy who is suddenly paralyzed by fear.
The only other possibility is that Tiger himself believes his career is all but officially over, yet doesn't know how to walk away.