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My disappointment was intense as I watched my shot disappear into the bunker on the last hole, and with it, my chances of winning the 1994 Masters. But that was only the beginning of my disappointments. For the next two years I failed to win the U.S. Open, finishing in second place each time. I was struggling with self-doubt, and I dreaded to hear what I knew my critics would say: that I could never win the big one.
These feelings of self-doubt were not new to me. When I was 15-years-old, our football team won the state championship. I was third-string quarterback, so I just sat on the bench the whole time watching the other guys play. I didn't play a down all year.
When we got back to town, we had a big parade then went back to the school gym to have a pep rally. Everyone was so excited. They had a big band playing and everybody was hugging and 'high-fiving.' But I remember just sitting there and feeling completely isolated, because I didn't really help the team win the championship. I felt like I was a failure. I just wasn't good enough. You get that a lot in sports. That sense of 'You're only as good as your last performance.'
As I sat there in the gym, the feeling of 'I don't matter' was so overwhelming that I could hardly stand it. I had tried my hardest. I had tried to be good for my parents, good for my team, good for my friends, good for God. With each failure I'd just feel worse and worse. That led to some introspection on my part, which wasn't at all normal for me at the time. I thought, 'What is it that gives life meaning? Why am I here? Why am I so miserable?'
As luck would have it, my coach was a Christian, and he invited me out to a meeting of some Christian athletes. For the first time I heard people talking about God and the unconditional love He has for us; the unconditional acceptance He has for us. I thought that was exactly what I was looking for. I wanted to feel that I was loved, that I was valued despite my failures. With God, I suddenly realized that I did matter. I mattered enough to God that he died for me. That was an incredible thought. It choked me up, and it made me realize that I was important.
Right then I asked God to come into my life. And I've never had a feeling like that since. The feeling of guilt on my shoulders just disappeared. Tears of joy flowed out of my eyes. I felt peace and contentment like I had never known.
Shortly after I lost the two U.S. Opens, I won the British Open and the PGA Tour Championship. I was even ranked the best player in the world. But after all the celebrations, I was the same person with the same problems. You think victory will change your life, that life's going to be better because you won a golf tournament. But when things are all over, you still get mad at your wife, still resent your parents and you even have new problems from all the sudden notoriety.
The Bible says that all men are like grass and their glory like the flowers of the field. The grass withers and the flowers fade. I found this to be true in my life. Victory is great, but it is ultimately empty. Even the thrill of winning the British Open fades.
So what does last? My relationship with God and with others. They are what gives life meaning. Regardless of what anyone says about me or how I feel about myself, my wife and kids think I'm great. They love me. But more importantly, God loves me. And, ultimately, He's the only one who matters.
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