Along with all of the responsibilities of everyday life, the struggle is real.
Hello friends. Masters week has come and gone. Now, it’s time for another newsletter.
I’ve been thinking about what to write for 3 days now. We’ll, maybe 5. I had some brief thoughts after finishing last weeks.
I’ve had a few good thoughts, stuff that I thought would be really intriguing, but since I didn’t write them down those thoughts have come and gone as well.
One thing that keeps jumping to the front of my mind though, is the way Rory McIlroy plays on Sunday at The Masters.
For the past few years, all of the hype has centered around whether Rory would win The Masters and complete the career grand slam. It is the only of the four majors that Rory hasn’t stamped his name on the trophy.
With all of the attention on him, the pressure to perform swirling around in his head must be immense. You can see the toll it takes on his golf game.
In every Masters since 2019, Rory has finished the first round with a score above par. Most have said that if he could finish that first day in a great place, he’d have won the tournament a few times over by now.
But the desire to win prevents him from putting himself in a good position on day one. You can almost see it written on his face. He’s been dreaming of winning this tournament since he was a little lad, and the repugnance that he hasn’t, makes it all the more difficult.
The similarities between the once top golfer in the world and the writer of this newsletter are almost indistinguishable. Maybe not in pure golf talent, but definitely in the ability to put aside the pressure and get a win.
It takes me days to decide what to write here. Knowing that I want to create something moving and appealing for my readers, and knowing that it needs to be published in a certain amount of time imbues a tremendous amount of pressure to perform.
Along with all of the responsibilities of everyday life, let’s suffice to say, the struggle is real.
The magic happens when all of the overwhelming fear of failure dissipates and the pen hits the paper. When I push my habit of procrastination as far as it can possibly go, and give myself no other option but to finish this little chunk of majestic writing, out come the words, for all the world to read.
The same happens for McIlroy. Once he gets that terrible first round out of the way, Augusta melts beneath his feet and he comes roaring back to the front of the pack. Maybe someday he’ll finish there.
As for me, maybe someday this newsletter will become a column in a syndicated news production somewhere. Who could say.
My mother told me once, “Desire is like a cat. The more you chase it, the more it runs. But sit still, and it will crawl into your lap.”