1986. Okay, maybe I'm not responsible for him winning, but I'm responsible for him not losing. That at least is our family's story...Back in 1986 there were very few houses in our neighborhood. At the top of our street was a stop sign--or so I'm told--I actually never really stopped there. Thursday morning as I was heading somewhere (who knows it was Masters of
my senior year), I approached the top of the street and, well, I didn't stop.BEEEEEEEP--swerve; brakes screeching. I slammed on brakes and my heart felt like it stopped. There was an official Masters car. The back door opened and out stepped non other than my favorite golfer Jack Nicklaus. "Darling," he said, "That right there is a stop sign." Tears started down my now very red face (see I cried all the time even back then), he patted my arm and said, "No harm done; just be careful. Now I've got to get going." Pure class--pure grace and at that moment he became and will always remain my all time favorite golfer. (So maybe I didn't really help him win, but had I hit the car, well who knows? That's my story and I'm sticking to it.)
From that day forward I became a devoted, loyal possibly slightly obsessed Jack Nicklaus fan. For those who didn't get to grow up in Augusta, it's not uncommon for teens to have their favorite golfers and to follow them year after year. Friendships develop--I can never hear Fred Couples name or see his picture without thinking of my high school friend Lee Shields who died way too soon in a way too tragic way, and whose magnetic smile was always brighter as she followed him year after year--and they became friends. I love remembering Lee especially every spring... Anyway, fast forward to 1997...
Chris and I were driving to the beach--I remember exactly where we were in Orangeburg SC--we were listening to our favorite radio station--ESPN (Isn't my husband a lucky man?). Tiger Woods was being interviewed and the interviewer asked him what it was like being paired up with the great Jack Nicklaus and would he ask him for any tips. I don't remember his exact words but it was something to the effect of "I play my own game."
"Are you kidding me?!?!?!" I shrieked to Chris (keep in mind I was also 7 months pregnant so hormones didn't help). "What about respect for those that came before you? What about humility? What about tradition? What about this is JACK NICKLAUS!!!" And I instantly became as my family would jokingly call me, "The Tiger Hater."
Oh I was so pompous when Tiger fell into his personal unpleasantness (that's southern talk for things we don't want to talk about). I strutted around like a peacock in a parade, "I told y'all. No humility--total arrogance. I knew it from the beginning." (I chose to ignore the fact that my strutting might be arrogant....)
This past Sunday we were watching the final round of this years Tournament. I started texting my daddy and my sister (we tend to do that during sporting events). I had just heard that when an interviewer asked Jordan Spieth how he remained so humble, he responded, "Me speaking about humility is very difficult because that wouldn't be humility." I fell in love (no he won't replace Jack Nicklaus in my heart, but I have a new golfer to follow--and I think it is awesome that Jack is nicknamed "The Golden Bear" and Jordan "The Golden Child.") I fell in love even more when I read an article about him writing thank you notes!
So I'm texting and Daddy is responding egging me on as my family likes to do whenever Tiger Woods comes up. Every time Tiger was on TV or won a tournament someone in my family would mention it to me to get a reaction. My children learned it was a great way to get a reaction (one of them put a Sports Illustrated on my bed when he was on the cover--no one has confessed). It became a joke--it was something we all laughed about. Suddenly it hit me--while this may be "funny" in our family, it's not funny--not even a little bit. My behavior shows no humility; my behavior has taught my children it's okay to make jokes at someone else's expense--someone we don't even know. I liked that I was "right." Right as compared to? I am so right that my behavior flies in the face of grace and redemption and God loves everyone no exceptions and we are all created in the image of God--things I preach every Sunday. But do I have to admit it, I mean publicly admit it? It really was meant in jest...(sort of)
My behavior, my words, show no compassion, no mercy, no forgiveness. My words only perpetuate judgement--everything I profess to detest. I had a conversation last night with my dear, wise, mother of the toddler friend. We were talking about racism and racist jokes. She said, "Even when I hear them and I know the person telling them doesn't really believe it, it's offensive. It's just wrong." Well slap my head and call me silly--or worse--call me a hypocrite.
It's not funny--it's not funny to cheer for someone else's pain--it's not right to judge--that's not our job. I don't have to like Tiger Woods; I suspect I won't begin to be a Tiger fan, but I can say I'll do my best to keep my mouth shut and to try to live into what I preach. To try to live into the grace Jack Nicklaus showed me, the humility Jordan Spieth practices, and the truths that Emily Crouch lives. And you know the really humbling thing? I know people will grant me grace, forgiveness, and redemption as I change this behavior. Now if I can just learn to do the same.....
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