In the shoes of Tiger Woods
Posted on Jan 12, 2010 by Paul Schempp
Last week, I walked into the Professional Golf Association (PGA) Learning Center in Port St. Lucie, FL for a meeting. Walking down the main hallway of the Center, I noticed the beautiful displays featuring the accomplishments of the annual PGA championship winners. Enclosed in each hand-crafted walnut display are several pictures of the champion, a description of their exploits in winning the championship, and then a champion’s artifact from the tournament. The displays begin with an ancient hickory shafted club Jim Barnes used to capture the first PGA championship in 1916 and end with the shirt Padraig Harrington wore while winning the 2008 Championship. Payne Stewart’s hat, Jack Niclaus’ putter, Phil Mickelson’s wedge, and Hubert Green’s score cards are just a few of the items on display. As I walked toward the meeting room, I spied a pair of black Nike shoes protruding from the wall about midway down the hall. I had seen those shoes before, so I stopped from a moment to look and reflect. They were the shoes Tiger Woods wore during the 2000 PGA Championship.
As I stood examining those shoes, I couldn’t help but ponder how much has changed to be in the shoes of Tiger Woods. His recent fall from grace has been as rapid as it was dramatic.
The first time I saw Tiger Woods was as a skinny kid walking to the practice tee of the Masters in 1995. Over the years, I’ve observed him at many tournaments around the world, including his famous round of 81 in the driving rain of Muirfield at the British Open. And who can forget the incredible courage and competitive drive he exhibited when capturing the 2007 U.S. Open on a broken knee. The last time I saw Tiger Woods was this past summer at the AT&T National in Washington, D.C. where he was the lone player laboring late into the evening on the practice range.
The remarkable accomplishments of Tiger Woods on a golf course were not handed to him. They were earned in his extraordinary effort in practice, rigorous fitness regiment, and a competitive fire and determination that is rivaled by few.
Yet, as I stood looking at the shoes once filled by Tiger Woods as he fought his way to the 2000 PGA Championship, I was struck by the enthusiasm of the tabloids in documenting his off the course activities, the number of jokes being made at his and his family’s expense, and the insatiable appetite of the masses for the latest tidbit of Tiger trash. Perhaps most perplexing are the number of people who only a short time ago extolled the man for not only his achievements, but his work ethic, competitive spirit, and remarkable skill, but were now laughing in delight over the fresh gossip of his personal life.
Only one man knows what it is like to be in the shoes of Tiger Woods, and it isn’t me. We are not friends, and never will be. What I admired and continue to admire about Tiger Woods has little or nothing to do with his private life. I don’t know him on a personal level. For the pain and suffering his actions have cause him and his family, I am sorry. But I am equally sorry that his achievements, and more importantly, what he did to reach them, will be forgotten in the swirl of his personal problems. For those who chose to condemn him for his off-the-course actions, that is their right. But in so doing, the lessons he gave us in courage, dedication, drive, and sacrifice on the athletic field should not be dismissed or forgotten.
As I reached the end of the hall, and just before I ducked into the meeting room, I glanced back once more down the hall to Tiger’s shoes on the wall in the Hall of PGA Champions. What he did while wearing those shoes earned him the right to be there, and always will.
Tagged: champions, determination, work ethic, tiger woods, champions, hard work, competitiveness, purpose, goal setting, developing expertise, becoming expert, experience, leadership skills, process improvement, performance management, leadership development
Comments
I don't know a single person that doesn't have their own cross to bear. Each and every one of us are human and have made mistakes. They may not be as hurtful to another human being as his were, but the severity of the sin is in the eye of the beholder. He has achieved greatness, and he is not perfect. My only wish is that he would have admitted earlier on in his career, and after that fateful accident, that he is not perfect. His avoidance and secrecy led to the strength of the storm around him. I think people want to believe that the beautiful people are perfect, and that is an unfair standard to hold them to.