The Break: Defining Scottie Scheffler's greatness

Hi everyone! I’d like to look at Scottie Scheffler’s Open triumph through two different lenses — one almost purely golf, and the other much bigger picture.

The Best Is Getting Better

Scottie Scheffler is the 153rd Open champion, winning at Royal Portrush on Sunday by four shots to capture a second major this year and a fourth in his career. He’s won those four majors in 1,197 days, which is the exact same period of time it took Tiger Woods to go from his first major win (1997 Masters) to his fourth (2000 Open Championship).

Scheffler’s lead ballooned at one point on Sunday to seven strokes. He uncharacteristically didn’t execute the safe play on the 8th hole, leading to a double-bogey 6. Characteristically, though, he birdied the 9th hole and never stopped galloping to the claret jug.

The world No. 1 is uniquely brilliant in the game today. He hits it long, finds plenty of good landing places off the tee (if not the fairway), has a genius-level understanding of his swing and optimal strategy, and, oh yeah, now putts to a world-class standard. Good luck beating this guy.

Scheffler doesn’t make many mistakes. The fat of the green is his friend. The only flags that might scare him are ones in the dead middle of the green because then there might be too many safe choices. He’s otherwordly in his ability to silo every hole, every shot, unto itself and then move on to the next without fear or favor of what happened immediately prior.

As Scheffler illuminates more of his thinking about his game, his place in golf and his place in the universe, it’s becoming more clear that perhaps his greatest gift is that he doesn’t define himself by his results. If you’re the best player in the world, and you’re comfortable knowing that, then you’ll stand by your approach no matter the situation. It doesn’t hurt Scheffler to be fully aware that he’s statistically the greatest player in the world today by a considerable margin. So many great athletes — many of Scheffler’s peers — are driven to squeeze more juice out of that proverbial orange. Scheffler is fine finding another and starting all over again.

Of course, we’re prone to hyperbole and fast forwarding a little too quickly. Scheffler’s best is somewhere just short of the statistical anamoly that was Tiger Woods’ best, but that we’re saying these guys’ names in the same sentence leads to more digging and questioning.

Is Scottie on Tiger’s level? No. Scottie correctly shot down those comparisons on Sunday night, saying he’s a quarter of the way now to Woods’ major tally (4 vs. 15) and PGA Tour wins haul (20 vs. 82). Woods won those four majors much earlier in his life than Scheffler, who, at 29, is seemingly about to hit his stride.

It’s a long game with a long way for Scheffler to go. At the end of 2014, Rory McIlroy had just won the Open and the PGA (albeit back-to-back) to get to four majors and one shy of the career Grand Slam. Eleven years later, McIlroy won his fifth major. Nothing is assured.

However, Scheffler has entered the conversation of the 12-15 best golfers of all-time. That’s an incredible achivement in four years, going from being the guy that so many wondered why he hadn’t won to being the guy that everyone wonders how he could lose.

The Links

Since Scheffler was up 7 strokes at one point, I went and did some research back into the biggest margins of victory in the four men’s majors.

Our Korn Ferry Tour series, The Road to French Lick, continues with a look at Neal Shipley’s second win of the year in Colorado.

The 3M Open Monday qualifier is the next-to-last of the FedEx Cup season, and the field is pretty fun.

Define Greatness

I realize I’m taking a risk here in wading into my faith (and no judgment of your beliefs at all here) in trying to talk about golf, but hopefully you’ll follow me to the end on this one.

“The Mass has ended. Go, proclaiming the gospel with your life.”

I hear that line most every week when I go to Mass. I’m Roman Catholic. I went to Catholic school from K to 12. I wrestle on the reg with what my faith means to me, how I experience it compared to Catholic dogma and in what ways I can translate that faith into action.

But this phrase, this last line that a specific deacon (not a priest, but a layperson that can be married and be a priest helper of sorts) really has stuck with me since the first time I heard it a few years ago. It’s a lot of things I believe rolled up into one. Faith is nothing without works. There are far too many performative believers of every faith tradition, who want to tell you how much they adhere to their religious dogma (frequently perverted to fit their other world views) but can’t pony up when it’s time to make the world better. And, lastly, but most importantly to me, the world is a better place when we give the best of ourselves to the most people — and defining how much is enough is extremely difficult.

Scottie Scheffler is quite explicit that his faith and his family are the two biggest priorities in his life. I admire that conviction. What I appreciate more is that he’s openly questioning how he can live out his dreams while he still feels like he’s devoted enough to his family and his God. Those things are in open conflict, at least with Scheffler.

There are plenty of athletes who love to praise Jesus when things go great and the microphone and trophy are in their face. I’ve always found that kind of hollow. I’m not of the mind that God — or whatever intentional organizing force of the universe there is — wants us to gloat about the gifts and talents and resources we have and ascribe that to the Almighty as a form of worship. Rather, we’re called to do more than flaunt how fortunate we are. We’re supposed to make other people more fortunate, too.

I believe that’s the prism through which Scheffler was openly questioning the point of his job and his professional life. He doesn’t understand why he wants to win so darn bad. He seems to reject that he should be lauded so effusively because he’s generationally great at a game. None of those things satisfy what he called the deepest desires of his heart. It sounded to me like a guy who is trying to figure out how to do more with his life than his dreams.

It’s a scary moment if you find out that what you thought you wanted your whole life isn’t going to fully fill the hole in your heart. For some, fulfillment doesn’t come from a single thing. A lot of things have to be right — not perfect — to feel that sense of wholeness. That means wearing a lot of hats. That view can compel having a service mentality toward the world while still managing to keep your selifsh goals in front of you.

Scheffler also knows he’s in an incredibly fortunate position to get to even ask the questions he’s asking. He’s made some $100 million the last two years, and he’ll never want materially for the rest of his life. For the vast majority of the people, they’ll never approach that luxury. Yes, many people find some form of fulfillment with what they have. So many more, though, are just struggling to survive.

I don’t think Scheffler is going to cut his career short to become a missionary, but I do think he’s trying to figure out how to serve himself and his world. And I’m looking forward to the next time he has that conversation out loud because I often feel like I’m looking for answers, too.