ALMOST everyone in golf can tell you the joke about God asking his caddie for a seven-iron when faced with a 220m approach shot.

A bystander asks the caddie: “Who does he think he is, God?”

The caddie replied: “That’s who he is, but when he’s on the golf course he thinks he’s Tiger Woods.”

It’s old but it might just help us to understand the fallibility of people who specialise in modern-day sport.

Be they golfers, rugby league, soccer, cricket, basketball, Australian rules players, netballers or softball enthusiasts – they all have an Achilles heel.

It’s in their DNA. Try as they might they can’t escape it.

It is when many think they have risen above their earthly status that the falls are generally the hardest.

The sexual abuse and domestic violence allegations being levelled against sporting stars may well have come from that feeling of self-perceived God-like status.

The history of sport is, as is life, literally littered with the carcasses of the mighty that have fallen.

Cyclists whose feet pull out of pedals, runners who break twice, pole-vaulters who suddenly can’t and countless others have had their dreams shattered and are given a taste of their fallibility.

Ron Clarke set more middle- and long-distance world athletics records than most, 17 in fact, but stumbled over his fallibility when he went to the starting line in the Olympics. He couldn’t win there even though he held world records. He handled it with style as did swimmer Ian Thorpe who fell into the pool during qualification in the 2004 Olympic trials.

In our own sport the rug can be quickly pulled.

The women’s game has had to fight its way clear of many hurdles and appears to have succeeded.

At The Open, won by Cameron Smith, Rory McIlroy, who looked the likely winner, took the loss on the chin and simply said: “I let that one slip through my fingers.”

And Smith didn’t blame his caddie or anyone else when he hit his ball in the water on the short par-3 12th hole at Augusta last year while in pursuit of eventual Masters winner Scottie Scheffler.

“Over the years I’ve figured out that if you’re going to win big tournaments you have to be really aggressive and sometimes you have to take your chances,” said Smith, who shrugged his shoulders and went fishing.

At this year’s Masters Brooks Koepka looked a winner until the weather intervened. Asked by Sky Sports how he felt after being unable to maintain his lead, Koepka said: “Kind of ho-hum. I didn’t play that great. I hit some good shots and just ended up in some terrible spots – it’s tough.”

Didn’t blame the weather. 

In 2021, American Matthew Wolff made the mistake of signing an incorrect scorecard at the Masters and was disqualified. He didn’t complain or blame someone else – just showed he too is imperfect.

Adam Scott lost the chance to win the 2012 Open Championship at Royal Lytham and St Annes when he led by four strokes with four holes to play before bogeying all of them to lose the title by a stroke to Ernie Els.

He handled it with good grace. “I’m very disappointed but I played so beautifully. I know I’ve let a really great chance slip through my fingers, but I’ll look back and take the positives from it.”

Greg Norman, who could and should have won more majors, never complained when edged out by freak shots in playoffs or by a better player on the day. The Shark handled the losses with dignity.

At the 2014 Ladies Masters Karrie Webb didn’t moan after being disqualified when she made a scorecard error. In fact, it was Webb who brought the discrepancy to the attention of officials.

Tennis great Roger Federer said after losing a final: “I played well but he played better on the day.” Brilliant, no excuses. 

Someone once said the game is the thing.

Sports people need to be more aware of the shallowness of back-slappers and the ever-present smell of corruption of self, which can all too readily be identified in the company of payments of large amounts of money.

Sports women and men are often correctly revered for their skill and the entertainment they provide.

It is only when they lose touch with the grassroots, which got them where they want to be that they fall foul of their own inflated egos.

No-one, including club boards and minders, can protect us all from that.

The great Ben Hogan, surveying a bad lie in among trees, was approached by a spectator who said: “Gosh, Mr Hogan, I bet you’re mad on the world over this?”

To which the legend replied: “Why would I be mad at the world, son. It was me who put the golf ball in here.”

Before sportsmen and women look to take out their grievances on the world at large they should ask who caused them the original anguish. 

We should all be aware of adage that often crops up: “Do not take life too seriously because you’ll never get out of it alive.”

Get in touch – If you have an opinion on this or any other topic in the magazine, send your letter to the editor to david@insidegolf.com.au and you’ll be in the running to win a gripping prize. 

About David Newbery

Chief writer David Newbery has been living, breathing and writing and editing golf for more than 30 years. His extensive knowledge of the game comes from covering golf around the world. Hired by Inside Golf in 2009, David previously worked as the editor of The Golfer for 25 years and before that worked for numerous daily newspapers in Australia and overseas. The Brisbane-based journalist describes his golf game as “a work in progress”, but has had the privilege of playing golf with some of the game’s best players including nine-time major winner Gary Player. David enjoys travelling, reading, music, photography and spending time with family and friends – on and off the golf course.

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