For countless golf fans worldwide, this past Sunday served as a riveting, climactic capstone to one of the most well-documented sports careers. For eleven years, Rory McIlroy has tried and failed to complete the career Grand Slam, a feat only previously achieved by five individuals in history. Ever since his historic collapse at the Masters in 2011, when he lost a four-shot lead while shooting 80 in the final round, the Green Jacket has alluded him during more than a decade of close calls and heart-wrenching defeats in other majors.
But finally, even after multiple shots that left his faithful aghast, Rory holed a 4-foot putt on the first playoff hole to put all the naysayers (including the one inside) at rest. It made for the quintessential dramatic finish, especially after it looked that Rory may have once again lost the tournament (more than once) during regular play.
As part of the Sunday drama, there was a unique element that made the experience all that more exciting, especially for those who were on the course that day to witness history. Due to Augusta National’s policy that all electronic devices (for patrons) are banned from the course during tournament play, the manual scoreboards through the course served as the only way that fans knew what was going on. Well, kind of. Regularly throughout the course, the scores were updated on different holes, leading to a collective reaction each time a new set of scores were posted. Whether it was a massive applause, or a collective groan, each year at Augusta National, the drama doesn’t just unfold on each hole, but also on the scoreboards that leave patrons collectively wondering “What just happened?” It is just one of many features that provides for the mystique that makes the Masters what it is.
Shortly after the tournament was over, a wrap-up article was posted on the PGA website, which included commentary about how this countercultural policy doesn’t just provide for an unforgettable experience for fans (and even those watching the reactions at home) but also a reflection of what it teaches us about everyday life. As part of this article, the author noted as follows:
A lot of people, McIlroy included, say they love Augusta National’s cell-phone ban because it means the fans are more engaged, paying closer attention to the action. But I came to appreciate it for a different reason this week. The lack of cell phones means you have to embrace uncertainty while on the grounds at Augusta National.
You can’t immediately know every player’s score or how they made birdie three holes earlier. When you want to meet up with someone at the Masters, you have to set the time and place in advance. If they don’t show up at the prescribed time, you can’t fire off a quick text to learn their location. And, maybe most importantly, being at the Masters forces you to ask another person for the answer to your query instead of consulting a search engine.
That feeling of uncertainty is one we don’t encounter often because we have all of the world’s information at the fingertips. While constant certainty – the ability to immediately know the answer to any question – may seem like a good thing, I realized this week that it also causes us to lack something, though.
Living in uncertainty encourages curiosity. It forces us to embrace our finitude. And, paradoxically, there is comfort in embracing our own limitations instead of falling for the lie of our own self-sufficiency, which our cell phones encourage.
As someone who hasn’t had a cell phone since college, I live in this land of uncertainty, although undoubtedly much of my day I have access to online resources that others do. And while I often tell people that about 2% of the time I wish I had a cell phone (due to the inconvenience), about 98% of the time I love the freedom it provides.
While I recognize few would likely ever choose this route, the joy of cultivating a curious mind and relationships with others in this manner, in this interdependent, fascinating world, can’t be overstated. As we increasingly have turned sacred aspects into our lives, such as communication, into a commodity by which we seek to exchange what we desire, and then go forward with as we please, we have lost out on much of the simple pleasures, such as meeting someone at the 4th hole at 3 PM, whom we may not have seen or heard from that day.
Lost in the desire for constant communication and reassurance are those sometimes uncomfortable, but critical moments in which we might have to rely on others and our own ingenuity to figure things out. As what serves as a great irony in writing this article, me and three of my oldest boys had tickets to the Monday practice round for this particular Masters. As we headed through Atlanta on Sunday, with an inauspicious weather forecast for the following day’s round, suddenly dashboard lights on our car began flashing and we found ourselves at a Texaco station not far from the zoo. As we do carry a cell phone when we travel, we were fortunate to get ahold of our friends, the Provosts, who live in Atlanta, and also make contact with a tow operator who eventually was able to take our car to a local mechanic (with many other details in between). However, the following day, after the course was closed for much of the round due to inclement weather which forced us to make the difficult decision to not find a way to Augusta, all fans were informed from Augusta National that we would be refunded our tickets and have the opportunity to buy Monday practice rounds for next year.
In the midst of what was an exhausting, disappointing couple of days, so much good emerged from our unexpected detour. We spent a couple of hours at the gas station catching up with Shane, and eventually spent a day with their family, including our godchildren, who were starting Spring Break. We took a couple of walks, watched a movie or two, even took the opportunity to see a nearby historical marker detailing a Civil War battle. We spent time together, even if not as intended.
I would be lying if I said that dealing with the uncertainty, including the time spent waiting at the mechanic unexpectedly as they tried to figure an aspect of the repair, was what we wanted. It wasn’t. Truth be told, I had been dreaming about walking the immaculate grounds of Augusta National with my boys for months, away from the stress and freneticism of life, just reveling in being in a beautiful, peaceful place with the people I loved. And the dream crashed, well, broke down before we ever got there.
But in the process of all the uncertainty and disappointment, I was reminded of one, or two, simple things. This was a first world problem. This is life. Either take the uncertainty for what it is, and find the goodness in it, or be miserable because my desire to have things just as I would like was no longer available. The choice was mine, and no device in the world was going to make it for me.
In the end, there are times to make absolutely certain (as much as possible) that things are as they need to be, even when it comes to our devices. But for much of our life, we would all do much better if we took the lead of Augusta National, and left our phones at home, or at least in the car, and embraced the uncertain life we live. What we might find is that suddenly, without every answer or communication at our fingertips, our curiosity about the simplest, and grandest, things might spring forth in ways that only a quiet stroll will satisfy. Along the way, meeting an old friend we haven’t talked to for a while, we might once again say hello, and embrace, as if never before.
If anyone recognizes the value of this, it was star of this particular Sunday. As Rory said afterwards, all the uncertainty that came with more than a decade of major futility, made this particular Sunday the best day ever in his golfing life.
