We probably all wrestle to some degree with the existential questions Scottie Scheffler was going round in circles with in his press conference today. I get some of it – although there’s a good chance I don’t because I’m not entirely sure even he knew what he was trying to say – but perhaps it’s simply that there are more important things in life than just being good at a sport. Given that that statement is hard to argue with, it can be problematic to want something that doesn’t really matter as badly as he presumably wants to win the Open Championship. Why does winning a golf tournament mean so much when we all move on so quickly? Why does it matter, when the feeling is over after a few minutes? Well, why does any of it matter to any of us? If you think too deeply about why anyone’s desires and existence matters, you’ll bury yourself. To some degree, there is no point.
When I used to write more often, my process went something like this: random golf thought lurks in the shadows of my brain for a few days. Then something seemingly unconnected in the golf world shines into those shadows; asking me questions until they are all wrapped around one another, indistinguishable in their differences, yet often unexplainable in their congruence. And so, I would write until some of it made sense to me.
I find myself there again, although perhaps more explicitly than ever before. Scheffler’s press conference lit up the shadows in my brain because I know undoubtedly – for the first time in probably 18 months – that I am satisfied by golf again. Not because I feel like I have all the answers or I’m never going to play badly ever again – far from it. After 5 and a half holes of the Women’s Open pre qualifier yesterday my girlfriend asked me if I needed to be sedated, because of the violence of my swearing as another good shot bounced over the green on an extraordinarily firm Delamere Forest. But golf wouldn’t be satisfying without the dissatisfaction innate in it. The difference for me now is that it’s a dissatisfaction that I understand again. It’s a dissatisfaction that I recognise; and if I recognise it, I can do something about it. That’s what’s satisfying.
I can impose my skills and my character onto this sport in a way that gives me a chance to roll with it. Not to beat it, or to master it… but a chance to stand alongside it; to stand tall within it. That to me is satisfying. For too long I haven’t been able to recognise myself within it at all. I spent nearly 25 years being satisfied with the dissatisfaction, being addicted to it. Of wanting to spend my life pursuing success in this sport because it gives me problems to solve every single day. And it’s hurt me many times before – it’s burned me in ways that made me wonder if I was good enough more times than I care to count. But I always recognised it, so I always got up and carried on; got up and tried to solve the problems. It was all part of the sick, satisfying dissatisfaction – what can I do next to be better? Being hurt was always an opportunity, and I think that’s part of why so many of us stay in this sport for such a long time. (Maybe that’s why Scheffler isn’t satisfied, he’s too good at it).
But then I spent two years being absolutely broken by it. It became unrecognisable, and that hurt me more than anything. Every day of playing or practising or competing is like being given two pictures that look the same and being asked to work out what’s different about them. You might work for months and months to find one tiny detail, but however exhausting that is – or random – it’s satisfying. For two years it felt like someone was standing a little away from me, holding the two pictures out in front of me, but I could never catch them. Every time I thought I’d got close, it would turn out the pictures were just blank pages. It’s a pretty empty place to be.
So now, I feel satisfaction. I feel satisfaction because I recognise this sport again, and I recognise myself within it. I believe that my character is connected to what this sport is all about. That’s part of why I’ve been addicted to it since I first started to understand myself.
For what it’s worth, yesterday after 5 and a half holes I didn’t need to be sedated. I calmed myself down, proceeded to miss a four footer, continued to stay (sort of) calm, looked at where my ball had finished in a bunker on the next, continued to stay (sort of) calm, took a few minutes testing the strength of my quads to manoeuvre myself into a ridiculous position, carried on about my business, and made four birdies on the back 9 to get myself to final qualifying in a couple of weeks time. And you know what? I enjoyed the hell out of it.
That, to me, is the point.
What a great reflection on your golfing experience. Nice to hear that your ’game face’ was ’sort of’ calm and that you accepted what the game gave you with each shot. It seems as if you have understood the fact that we can never master this game and we just have to be grateful for what it gives us. CONGRATULATIONS on qualifying for the Women’s Open this year 👏👏👏 ENJOY!
Well said. Well done. Never quit.
Today after 12 holes I had two pars.
Them made 5 pars and a birdie.
That’s the point
Keep playing
Keep writing
Glad to have you back.
Well done on qualifying. Delamere is lovely but can be a pig when it’s dry 👍
Glad to hear that old, positive inner voice, Meghan. And even gladder you made the next stage. I especially liked “golf wouldn’t be satisfying without the dissatisfaction innate in it.” That is going into my Evernote file of golf quotes where I do have a good few MacLaren quotes. Here’s an old one of yours: “That indescribable emotion that connects anger and insecurity and misery with determination and satisfaction and joy. Because that’s the game. That’s everything.” Please keep playing and please keep writing about your playing.
That’s more like it 👏 golf wasn’t supposed to be easy and I agree with Scottie you win it’s history you move on. But it’s beat breaking 80 week on week with same old deficiencies. Good luck at FQ.
Great article Megan. Glad you’re in a better place now.
While reading it, I was thinking about the irony that golf is a sport where that has a “never good enough” component to it. If you hit 12 fairway off the tee, you could have hit 14. If you have 30 putts in a round you could have had 28. If you shoot a 68, you could have shot a 67 or even a 66.
It’s like chasing that brass ring that you can never reach. It’s maddening.
I’m so glad you mentioned this — I’ve only recently started taking golf seriously, and even as a complete amateur, I’ve grappled with that same “never good enough” mindset.
For years, I told myself I’d only play the main course when I was “good enough” — like it was some kind of reward for having the perfect swing or hitting a 200-yard drive. But I never defined what “good enough” actually meant… and that vague goalpost kept me stuck in a loop for 7 years! 🤦🏻♀️
I’m finally trying to break out of it — and I’m filming the whole journey in She’s Off Course (on YouTube and IG).
Reading Meghan’s blog has honestly helped. Seeing that it’s not just amateurs who wrestle with the mental game, but even the pros — it doesn’t make them seem less impressive. If anything, it makes them even more badass. 😅
Well done Meg 😃 loved that ❤️❤️
Seen your results and quality of golf over the last month…looking forward to the trend continuing and seeing you at the Women’s Open.
So glad you have found the good feeling about golf again. Also so glad you are on to the next round of Open qualifying. I will be pulling for you regardless of the outcome!