Once in a while, a story needs to be plucked from the sports section of the newspaper and put in the general news section.
Jordan Spieth has become quite well known over the last couple of years as a precocious professional golfer, perhaps the next Tiger Woods. But since last Sunday, the final day of the Masters golf tournament, he has become even better known for one of the greatest collapses in the history of the game. Leading by five strokes with only nine holes to play, he dropped six strokes in three holes and within an hour was several strokes behind the eventual winner.
Spieth’s coming apart at the seams transcends his sport and has made him a striking instance of human frailty in general.
That even the world’s best at something can so utterly fall apart touches us all.
As has been said many times since, it was a hard thing to watch.
“What happened?”, the TV commentators wondered, we wonder. Why could he suddenly not do what he had been doing so well, the possible, the predictable, suddenly become impossible?
And, in the back of our minds: Can it happen to us? Anyone who’s ever had a panic attack or other such breakdown knows the answer.
Chuck Knoblauch, a veteran baseball player who became famous when he suddenly, inexplicably became unable to throw to first base, knows.
Golfers call it the yips, some mental factor that interferes with the body’s ability to do what it does all the time. Tempting to call it evil (Satan jostling one’s elbow at a crucial moment). Chaos, undermining order.
But why? That it is inexplicable is what makes it so disconcerting. It is, simply, failure. Breakdown. Imp of the perverse.
I consider it a flaw in action sports like basketball and football that too often all the action– running, shooting throwing, tackling, blocking–stop while one poor guy takes the world on his shoulders and has to make a free throw or field goal. I hate that so many games end with that setup for the yips, something getting into his head making him unable to do what he can do. Seems inconsistent with the rest of the game.
But golf is consistent: it’s all like that. It’s been called it the cruellest game.
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