A curious association of ideas triggered by the more than suspicious slowness of Poppy’s putt ball on the last hole of Augusta’s par threes (20 eternal seconds of countdown) reminded me of Carl Honoré and his book ‘Slow down’.
Although for most of you she needs no introduction, Poppy is the four-year-old daughter of my beloved Rory, who finally wears the green jacket and consolidates his presence in the history books as the most enduring achiever of a victory in all the tournaments that make up the Grand Slam, and certainly the one who took the longest to achieve it. Fourteen years compared to Mr. Sarazen’s thirteen. The seemingly impossible just takes a little longer.
According to the Canadian author, the culture of haste robs us of the pleasure of living, and slowness is not an obstacle but a way to do things better. Surely, some players like Kevin Na or Pat Can’t play fast would like to twist the argument to use it in their defence. More so in the case of Cantlay, as we all know he is capable of justifying, in the context of a Ryder Cup, a whole gesture of salary claim in the size of his head compared to the controversial cap.
However, today my chronicle is not about slowness, nor the more mercantile side of the players, but precisely about that much more human, kind, and moving side we discovered about Rory on the most iconic day of professional golf families, which he later confirmed after his epic and cyclothymic triumph at the Masters.
The Augusta Par Three Contest has always been the most spontaneous, relaxed, and even tender moment of the Masters and where, on the other hand, the value of family is claimed and exalted. Surely, something promoted and much applauded by that select and discreet group of seemingly conservative Augusta members who never asked how to become one because, if they had, they would never have worn the famous Pantone 342 green jacket.
For a day, Augusta is filled with little crazies, many of whom do not understand the magnitude of the event, dressed in uniforms unlike any typical school attire, in a nuclear white worthy of any detergent ad, and they launch onto the best-kept grass in the world simply ready to continue playing (and here it would be unnecessary to add “golf”).
As Trevor Immelman, another who had the coveted green jacket in his wardrobe in 2008, has reminded us, that is precisely the feeling that the prestigious and too little mentioned psychologist Bob Rotella has sought for Rory to help him exorcise his demons: to play by pure instinct, for fun, recovering the spontaneity and joy of a child and without the paralysis by analysis of every movement or stroke.
We all already recite his mantras almost unconsciously: golf is not the sport of perfection, it is of confidence. That said, now go to hole 13 of Augusta, execute one of the worst shots of your golfing career and find resilience to recompose yourself and play again with the three famous “Cs”: Head, Heart, and Cojxxx (the Xs are from the famous magazine La Codorniz). Or rather, not in plain Spanish but according to the Rotella school: confidence, character, and courage.
Those of us who have not had the privilege of witnessing Poppy’s putt moment live and, on the contrary, have been caught up later on social media, already had the surprising outcome discounted. Only a happy ending justifies the tense wait reinforced by a studied rear shot of Poppy, Rory, and Lawry as the third in pure harmony.
Certainly, I dare say that Poppy’s lack of technique, by the way a mini clone of her father, is what corresponds to a four-year-old girl when even laterality or motor coordination are not perfectly defined. A putt as effective as the 25-second reel that kept us attentive to the confirmation of the expected and which also hides another reality that golf can teach us: the more human and family side of its superstar protagonists.
Within his slow movement, Mr. Honoré also wrote a highly recommended book focused on how modern, competitive, fast-paced, and success-obsessed culture affects our children and, above all, the way we educate them. And speaking of educating, dear Rory, Augusta has given you two exceptional opportunities to impart to Poppy invaluable life lessons that you have taken advantage of better than your excellent shot on Sunday at hole 15, which did not yield that eagle that would have allowed us to stop squeezing the sofa cushion for a while.
I will make any kind of abstraction about whether these types of situations can be excessively overwhelming for children, if they subject them to excessive and early media exposure, if there is or isn’t posturing in the staging, and if the saying truly holds: “Like father, like son,” since many of those belonging to that second generation still do not even know if they have been inoculated with the golf bug. No young promises have been identified, no matter how free dreaming may be.
I prefer to focus on the first lesson. As expected, Rory’s gesture shows that he is there as a father above any hint of pride—certainly nothing objective—that he might have felt for Poppy’s achievement. The merit of little Poppy’s great putt is minimal, and no one questions the friendly stroke of luck behind that 7.5-meter journey. The probability that his (and my) dear Rory would have holed that same putt would be between 10 and 15%. That’s why in Poppy’s case, practically the same blessed and magical hand that would carry the ivory to your number on a European roulette comes into play.
Despite the audience’s ovation, and I think precisely because of that excess of massive attention, Poppy is paralyzed, ignores her father’s natural gesture to high-five, the logical overreaction of good Lowry, and the joyful spontaneity of his daughter Iris who tries to pick her up, to finally run to seek refuge and comfort on Rory’s shoulder.
When Rory chose to embrace and comfort Poppy above the result, he provided the necessary emotional support, conveyed security, that she is loved unconditionally and that, in a viral moment, she is the most valuable and foremost above any result. It is not necessary to succeed and celebrate to be loved. With that gesture, Poppy has gained the certainty of having a safe place to go when circumstances overwhelm her. Bravo for Rory…
And after donning the green jacket, a Rory absolutely overwhelmed by the emotions contained for 14 years and which splashed even the viewers like those champagne bottles that soaked the European victory at Marco Simone, set educational jurisprudence in the purest Will Smith style in the film The Pursuit of Happyness.
Poppy has a few years left to understand what Sunday’s events on April 13, 2025, have meant for her father. However, sometimes it is not necessary to understand history to be part of it, and certainly, Rory seized the moment to once again prioritize his role as a father and leave her another great emotional and educational legacy. I bet my left hand, and I am left-handed, that even the emotionally neutral Harry Diamond had to swallow twice in a supreme effort of emotional restraint when he heard him say to Poppy: “Never, never give up on your dreams. Keep trying, keep working hard, and if you set your mind to it, you can achieve anything. I love you.”
Dear Poppy: when you come to your senses, you will realize, thanks to your father, that defeat is an orphan. Moreover, you have 19.5 million witnesses of what it is to be a father above a champion, and if you ever doubt it, you can always remember those invaluable life lessons by listening to him sing a duet with Uncle Lowry (perhaps premonitory) the song ‘Don’t Stop Believin’ with which they celebrated their victory at the Zurich Classic in 2024. An anthem for those who keep going without guarantees. Only with faith and desire. (And, of course, the three ‘Cs’).
