We are what we consume on social media, and the stubborn reality takes care of valuing and labelling us based on our cultural habits more than we might like. Leaving aside the debate on how much someone with public influence has responsibility for what they advocate, sadly, today, more media visibility and attention are given to the questionable theories of Marcos Llorente than to those of Robert Waldinger, a psychiatrist from Harvard known for conducting the longest study on happiness and health in the world, like Mike Austin‘s drive at the US National Senior Open in 1974 (and with this fact, edagolfism dies once again).
This peculiar zen master of science has demonstrated that human relationships are the most important factor for long-term well-being. Extrapolated to professional golf, it is also an axiom that quality bonds with family, friends, coaches, caddies, and team have been more than decisive in the performance and professional longevity of the best golfers in history.
Curiously, and without forcing it, Tiger Woods is also the best example of all this, although, and not just because of a more than human selective attention, the inverse effect is more identifiable in him. Tiger’s game began to “disorder” when, progressively, the vertices of the triangle formed by his father, his coach, and his caddie, Steve Williams, who supported him during his prime era of absolute dominance between 1996 and 2006, became destabilized.
Since the late nineties, cancer was taking its toll on the health of his father and emotional anchor, Earl Denninson Woods, who passed away in May 2006. In June of that same year, a Tiger who rarely showed his emotions in public broke down in tears in a very visible, deep, and spontaneous way when he holed the final putt on the 18th at Royal Liverpool to win the Open.
At that time, Buch Harmon, the putative father of that natural and perfect swing for a young and powerful body like his, – whom he subjected to Navy Seal training in search of more extreme challenges -, had ceased to fit the profile of that silent, loyal, and low-key coach that Tiger valued, and it was already Hank Haney who was trying to simplify his swing to make it more repeatable and reduce his “big miss” to the right.
His tumultuous marriage to the Swedish Elin Nordegren, in his own words, “the closest thing to normality” he had in his life until then, barely lasted six years (2004 to 2010). It was Tiger’s parallel life, the other quantum reality of his personal life, in which he succumbed to the tyranny of his destructive sex addiction, which surely also took its toll on the field. The scandal of a divorce, with a settlement of 150 million euros, ended his emotional stability and plunged him into guilt, anxiety, and isolation. Prolonged loneliness is toxic, Waldinger maintains, but moreover, this stage coincided with injuries and the end of his cycle with Haney. It was the beginning of what some mistakenly predicted as the end, and in which Tiger, according to his biographers, Jeff Benedict & Armen Keteyian, was immersed in one of the darkest moments of his life.
With Steve Williams, his loyal squire and bodyguard since 1999 and with whom he achieved 13 majors and more than 60 professional victories, he maintained a steel alliance for 12 years. Steve was famous for his strong and intimidating personality and, at one point, became someone Tiger could not control. Two forces of nature with unresolved tension.
The wound became more evident when Steve, during a break due to Tiger’s injuries in 2011, asked for permission to temporarily carry the bag of Adam Scott, the sexiest yet consistent swing on the circuit, which has allowed him to play all the majors for a whopping 24 years. Tiger reluctantly agreed, and after the Australian’s victory at the WGC-Bridgestone Invitational, Steve declared to the press that it “had been the greatest professional victory of his career.”
This unfortunate phrase was interpreted as disrespect that even reached humiliation, and Tiger experienced it as a true disloyalty that was the trigger that ended their relationship. The chemistry between player and caddie had broken, and when he fired him, Steve expressed feeling as if he had been thrown under the bus. Ask Cat Stevens with that “The First Cut is the Deepest,” few breakups hurt more than the first.
However, as any old Hollywood casting director would say: “next, please…” and the counterpoint, calm, discreet, patient, and zero-drama character of Joe LaCava (at least for 35 years and until the Ryder Cup in Rome 2023 where that intensely protective and loyal character played a bad trick and a confrontation with my beloved Rory), could not say no to Tiger when he made advances while temporarily carrying the bag of Dustin Johnson, who at that time was ranked 15th in the world and was considered one of the greatest emerging talents of his generation.
All photo usage must carry mandatory copyright credit (© Golffile | Fran Caffrey)
Without LaCava’s emotional shield, Tiger would not have won the redemption Masters in 2019. Although Tiger was inactive between 2014 and 2018 and did not play much, LaCava stated that he preferred to wait for him for three years than carry the bag of any other player for three days. That was the great injection of confidence and loyalty Tiger needed to rebuild himself. On the epic day of his victory on Sunday, it was LaCava who sensibly reminded him to play his game and not others’. Besides being key in the strategy of not taking risks, he reminded him that he was playing well, to make solid swings, and that everything else would follow. Unknowingly, a very AFIRM-style constructive feedback as taught by prestigious business schools. One of Tiger’s intrinsic motivations to win was, precisely, Joe himself.
In 2019, Tiger drove down Magnolia Lane freed from the entourage and noise of the world that had consumed him for so long. He did it with a minimal environment, a sacred protective circle, where, after having rebuilt his life almost from scratch, besides Joe, only people who provided loyalty, privacy, and a serene mind remained.
The greatest emotional driver, his two powerful reasons, were his children, Sam and Charlie. There are unforgettable images that summarize a life, like the great hug between Tiger and Charlie after the victory, without armour, without myth, and that of his mother, Kultida, – who, even always with a low profile, was his constant emotional support, even without justifying his behaviour -, waiting her turn to merge into another with a gesture that represented the return of the prodigal son to the family home from which he should never have left.
Tiger has not been known for maintaining deep friendships, but, nevertheless, throughout all these years, the common thread and emotional reference, the discreet witness of his career has been Notah Begay III, his roommate and teammate at Stanford and currently a golf analyst and commentator. This social activist in Native American communities, of Navajo origin, is his confidant and the person with whom he relaxes outside of golf. He has been the one who helped him maintain balance amid the media hurricane and openly defended him during the worst years. He was also one of the first to visit him after his serious car accident in 2021, when his legendary future became a question mark, and who knows him beyond the icon he represents. He is the kind of presence that illuminates an entire life. He is, as Marian Rojas Estapé would say, a true vitamin person.
In the end, it is not the algorithm, nor the results, nor the number of digits in the bank account that define what we are, sustain us, or propel us, but the bonds we decide to protect, those who decide to stay when everything else falls apart, and those who do not seek your perfect version but the true one because, even knowing your cracks, they decide to stay.
And this is where Waldinger’s words make sense, after following the lives of hundreds of people for almost 80 years. He called it the key to well-being and said that the quality of our relationships is the best predictor of a fulfilling life. Tiger is experiencing it from 2019 onwards, and although his golf may no longer be the same or never be competitive again, he can always also help us corroborate that happiness is not about going further, but about not doing it alone.
Therefore, dear reader, when during these holidays you sit at that special table – surely surrounded by people you appreciate – I recommend that you have the courage to look around and recognize that this is your true Champions Dinners (even if you never dream of wearing the coveted green jacket) because, as George Bailey, the second-class angel from the film that gives this story its title, would say, “no man is a failure who has friends,” and we all have a (or even several) Notah Begay in our lives.
Erin Sand
(Written in gratitude to all those elective affinities who have patiently and unconditionally read Erin throughout this year, have drowned in her data, have been there, even when life did not make headlines and even without understanding, as Herbert Wind would say, – who so often sponsors my words -, that golf is the most human of games because it reveals the state of your mind as clearly as it reveals the state of your swing. You know better than Bobby Jones, the most lucid voice in golf and who has been the protagonist of many of my lines, that you are the INDISPENSABLES.)
